Ernie Harwell passed away yesterday. It was not unexpected. He was 92, and less then a year ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer. Ernie may be unknown to you, unless you were a baseball fan. For me and thousands of other baseball fans, and more specifically, Detroit Tigers' fans, we lost a friend yesterday.
Ernie was the voice of the Tigers for 42 seasons. He was there for the highs and lows. He was there in 1968 when a city torn by rioting came together to celebrate a World Series victory. He was there in 1984 when a city depressed by a horrid economy celebrated the "Bless You Boys" to another world championship. He was there every spring, and every summer, a guest in all of our homes covering every pitch and swing of the bat.
And now he is gone.
Perhaps the best way to remember Ernie is to remember what he wasn't. He wasn't bombastic. He wasn't overly dramatic. A home run was simply "long gone!" A called third strike meant that the batter "stood there like the house by the side of the road and watched it go by." Each game he broadcast meant you felt that you were there with him, enjoying the game, whether it was at Tiger Stadium, Fenway Park, or elsewhere. As best put by John Lowe of the Detroit Free Press:
Unlike some announcers in recent decades, Harwell didn't litter his broadcasts with shouting, excessive talking or all-knowing pronouncements about players and managers. Listening to him was as pleasant as being at Tiger Stadium in the summertime. As he fell silent between pitches, listeners got to hear the sounds of the ballpark — the crowd's buzz, the vendor's cry — and absorb the rhythm of the game. Harwell thus became an ideal companion for a listener anywhere: the couch, the yard, the car or the boat.
In this day and age, it is hard to imagine people gathering around their radios to hear the broadcast of a ball game. But that's what we did, every summer, whether at the beach, or in our cars. Ernie was there to keep us up to date. And with 24/7 cable, internet, and the like, that is a lost age.
Ernie was known as a truly gentleman. When WJR Radio inexplicably fired Ernie in 1990, he took it in stride. His fans revolted, with 97% of them saying they wanted him back. Needless to say, it didn't take long to restore Ernie to where he belonged: the broadcast booth.
For many, the coming of spring is marked by the birds chirping or the flowers blooming. For Tigers' fans, we knew spring was upon us when Ernie gave his first spring training broadcast every year by quoting the Song of Solomon:
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
So long, Ernie. The singing of the birds has come for you, but for us, you voice will live on throughout the land forever. Rest in peace.