MURRAY TUCKER
Author
SCREAMER THE FORGOTTEN VOICE OF THE PITTSBURGH STEELERS
|
||
EXCERPTS FROM THE BOOK First Steelers Broadcast The team was riding a wave of success in 1936. Frank Smith was beginning to appreciate my work, but continually cautioned me about leaving my day job. Nearing the end of the season the team looked like a certainty for the championship and what that would mean for fan interest. Then - as has been the case throughout my broadcasting career with the football team, disaster struck. The first broadcast of a Pittsburgh pro football game was suddenly there. I had only a vague idea what was really transpiring on the field. I was recreating the game in my mind’s eye. I would get the play from the Morse code transcriber, set the offense and defense and then give the play. Unlike baseball, football has a near continual flow of excitement. Description of where players position themselves after a huddle, how the defense counters, how the play progresses, how the tackle was made, how many near misses, stiff arms, etc., were not sent. A Western Union print out only gave a number (33), a play OT (off-tackle), plus 8 (8 yard gain), 2-2 (2nd down, 2yards to go) P 35 (Ball on the Pittsburgh 35 yard line). I would relate,
The backroom of McManus’ s bar and grill where I had met Art Rooney less than one month before was a hangout for a Monday-quarterbacks lunch club (later, The Curbstone Coaches). Still having to rely on my day job at Frank and Seders, I attended when I could. Wanting to hear the reaction to my first recreation, I went after week 1. Art was there as were a host of newsmen and cronies. As I came in, Art came over to me laughing and said that my broadcast was better than the game. The newsmen who were in the box where Art had a radio said that they would not squeal on me because they all wanted to see Art succeed. Bill Cullen Of all the colleagues I had in 33 years behind the mike, none matched Bill Cullen for his wit and understanding of the audience’s entertainment needs which became clear when he left Pittsburgh to make his name in New York as a game show host on “The Price Is Right,” as well as a panelist on “I’ve Got A Secret.” But the complete Cullen experience came later that year in New York at The Polo Grounds. It was one of those raw-cold-windy, November days. I went to have a warm up. I kept a flask filled with Canadian Club in my overcoat to thaw out and lubricate my vocal chords. Unbeknownst to me, Cullen had switched flasks, putting one filled with Listerine in its place. It hit my mouth and blasted out as a spray. Fortunately we were broadcasting from the scoreboard at the Polo Grounds in New York, so it only hit the microphone, falling as a rather harmless mist on the paying patrons at least 50 feet below. “Phooey!!” As the sound of my surprise and resulting expletive resounded, Bill coolly shouted, “Take that New York,” and picked up the broadcast saying, “Joe had to cleanse his mouth of all the bad things he wanted to say about today’s officiating.” Bob Prince People have called Bob Prince many things. Loved and hated, feared and respected, awesome friend and humbling foe. Bob started radio as a sports announcer for WJAS in 1939. His show was dominated with controversy; mine was usually, but not always, a straight delivery of news without editorializing. In February 1940, Bob began a crusade against Pittsburgh fight idol, Light Heavyweight Champion, Billy Conn. His objective was to get Conn to fight Harry Bobo. On his nightly show, he would constantly castigate Conn. One night while I was at ringside as Deputy Commissioner of Boxing, Billy, who was sitting next to me as a spectator, was introduced to the crowd with a thunderous ovation. There was one catcall from none other than Prince who called him a coward. The champ was incensed and threw over several folding chairs to get to Prince. I saw what was happening and without thinking of the possible consequences, pursued Conn who was about to throw a punch. I restrained him and warned him that he was jeopardizing his career and risking imprisonment as a fighter's fists were considered lethal weapons. Conn relented. Prince, obviously shaken, did not repeat himself, but sat quietly for the match. Later that week, Prince scooped us all with the announcement that Bobo had lost sight in one eye. In talking with Billy I found out that he was aware of Bobo’s sight problem, but did not disclose his knowledge. Art Rooney In the last booth was a man I had never met. Sitting across from him was Smith. As I stood at the end of the table, Smith said, “I want you to meet the owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates Football Team, Joe, meet Art Rooney.” The Choice Between Television and Radio In 1964 a sponsor conflict and a format change by CBS-TV made it necessary for me to decide whether to remain with television, or return to radio. Art wanted me on the radio. He said my strength was with radio. Ed Kiely, publicist for the Steelers, and Dan Rooney urged me to stay with television. The two wanted a hometown voice on Steelers games as much as possible. Art told me that he had a better chance of keeping me with Steelers broadcasting if I stayed solely with radio. I should have followed Art’s usually sage advice, but the money and prestige was much more for TV. For 1964 CBS-TV decided to use each two-man team that covered the two opponents to telecast one half of the game. Prior to this arrangement, I would do away games and was available for radio of home games. My friend, Ray Scott, who had moved to do the Green Bay Packers’ games, dropped out when CBS decided on this new format. He returned in 1965 when the format changed, again. In April 1965 CBS eliminated the four-man crew. I would telecast only away games, idling me for home games. Jack Fleming, who was doing play-by-play of West Virginia University games, began his long tenure as the radio Voice of the Steelers with Tom Bender. Joe Schmidt Joe Schmidt, defensive stalwart of early 1950’s Pitt teams, wanted to play for the Steelers. Several of us urged Kiesling to pick Schmidt. None of us played pro ball. Kies quipped, “Schmidt really must be second rate if a pack of you ‘never wazes’ support his selection.” John Unitas Then there was Johnny Unitas. Without a doubt he was the best passer in the 1955 training camp. But he ignored Kiesling’s instructions and called his own plays. Kies referred to Unitas as “dumb.” Unitas also had to work with third string receivers. Veteran quarterbacks Finks and Marchibroda got the prime workouts. Finally, Kies saw Vic Eaton for third string because he could also punt and play defense. Art’s sons, particularly Artie, were strongly in favor of Unitas prompting Art to ask Kies to give Unitas a good look. This was about as close as Art had ever come to overstepping the boundary he placed between the front office and the coaching staff. When I went to the training camp to interview players and scout the prospects, Artie asked me to watch Unitas. I clocked his release time, the time that the quarterback takes to pass after the center’s snap. Unitas, was slower than Finks, but faster than Marchibroda. Also, he could scramble, avoiding onrushing tacklers. Neither Jim nor Ted could buy time by moving out of the pocket of the offensive linemen. But Kies saw Johnny as fourth string when only three could be on the roster. Buddy Parker I was at St. Vincent’s college, the Steelers’ training camp, in late August 1957. Buddy Parker could not reach a deal with the Baltimore Colts, and the camp was buzzing. Parker had proven himself by bringing a team with one of the worst records to two championships within two years. Dan and Art Jr. Force Parker's Hand Art’s second son, Artie, became head of player personnel. A younger generation of Rooneys was taking over. Artie told me, "A friend of mine told me that it (the NFL championship) wasn't for us. That we were more like Don Quixote tilting at windmills." Dan and Art, Jr. had seen championship talent slip away: Dudley’s relation with Sutherland, Kiesling’s decision to draft Marchibroda and not Joe Schmidt, and the release of Johnny Unitas, were among many second guesses Art’s sons would have in their memory. Parker was thoroughly miffed with the Steelers’ play in 1964. In 1965 Parker sought to trade stellar defensemen Ben McGee and Chuck Hinton, for the Eagles’ second string quarterback, King Hill. Upon hearing of the impending pact between Parker and Eagles’ coach, Joe Kuharick, Danny put an abrupt end to the deal. Kuharick was furious and Parker again made for the exit. First TV Broadcast The Steelers played the Chicago Cardinals at Comiskey Park in the first game televised to Pittsburgh (October 28, 1951). That first production was chaotic.
|
|
|
|
||