Red

He could have been "Uncle Walter" long before Cronkite.

But nobody knew him as Walter.

Oh no. Walter Lanier Barber was always "The Ol' Redhead."

Red Barber.

He's also still considered -- at worst -- a top 10 in baseball broadcasting all time.

It says here he's in the top 3, tied for second with his contemporary Mel Allen. Only Red's protégée -- a kid named Scully -- is better.

Much like Bill Dickey taught Yogi Berra, Vin Scully (who is finally joining social media) learned from Barber.

After a combustible edition of "Doubleheader" this week, it occurred to me that many don't know their history. And they should, especially to be in this business.

Thus here we are. School is in session.

A gentleman of the south, Red was born in Mississippi in 1908 but moved to Florida when he was 10. He enrolled at the University of Florida and, while working as a janitor at the local radio station, was asked to fill in as an announcer on WRUF. As was often the case in those days, fate intervened and Barber was a star.

In fact, his WRUF microphone is on display at the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

By 1934, Barber was calling the Cincinnati Reds, at the age of 26. The Cubs beat the Reds 6-0 and, while it wasn't just his first professional major league broadcast it was the first professional game he'd ever been to.

The next year, in a time in which the World Series was on both NBC and CBS, Mutual joined the party. Barber joined the broadcast team at the age of just 27, working with Bob Elson and Quin Ryan.

Barber slid over to NBC for 1936 and 1937 before "The Peacock" put different crews on two different NBC networks. Red stayed on NBC Red, naturally.

Mutual received the exclusive contract in 1939. By then, Reds president Larry MacPhail had moved to Brooklyn to run the Dodgers. MacPhail broke the blackout of home broadcasts in New York between the three teams and he brought Barber with him.

Red Barber -- now 32 -- would begin an iconic run in Brooklyn, sitting in his beloved "catbird seat." He served as the first baseball television play-by-play announcer that Aug 26, calling the Reds/Dodgers game (ironically) on experimental station W2XBS (later, WNBC).

Indeed, when the Brooklyn Cyclones came along, their broadcast booth became known as -- what else? -- "The Catbird Seat" and I had the opportunity to call a few games from there.

Barber -- along with Allen -- ruled much of the next three decades in sports broadcasting. While the early days' big names started with Graham McNamee, followed by Bill Stern and Ted Husing, it was the ying and yang of Allen and Barber who dominated.

Both called football and baseball, with Red hosting a college football recap among his many other duties. Red was the head of CBS Sports.

Barber was the consummate taskmaster. Broadcasters weren't supposed to give opinions (not many, anyway) as they were reporters.

Journalists.

Red's booth ran his way. So whether it was Al Helfer or Connie Desmond or anyone else, you played by Red's rules.

Barber missed part of 1948 due to a bleeding ulcer so Branch Rickey traded -- yes, traded -- catcher Cliff Dapper to the Atlanta Crackers (yes, really) of the Southern Association for Ernie Harwell, who would then go to the Giants and Orioles before moving to Detroit in 1960. He became an institution there, and is also a top-5 all-time baseball voice.

Barber would eventually leave the Dodgers after 1953 to go -- GASP -- to the Yankees, after a dispute with World Series sponsor Gillette and Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley over (what else?) money. Barber worked with Allen from 1954-1964 when Mel's contract wasn't renewed. Phil Rizzuto, Jim Woods, Jerry Coleman, and Joe Garagiola rounded out Red's Bronx colleagues.

His Yankees years highlighted his stylistic difference. Red reported but kept most of his emotions within. Mel was more likely to exclude "How About That!?" while Red's explosive moments, such as his famous "Oh Doctor!" in the 1947 World Series were more rare. While Russ Hodges screamed, "The Giants Win the Pennant!," Red simply exclaimed Bobby Thomson's home run was,"In there and the New York Giants win the National League Pennant and the Polo Grounds go wild!" Red, in fact, was critical of the Hodges call.

Red also believed that stories were to be told about the players but not about the broadcaster. Obviously, some things have changed since then, and I'm the first to acknowledge that.

By the time of Thomson's home run (Oct 3, 1951), the Dodgers booth had new blood in it. Harwell had moved to the Giants where he had the duty of calling the clout on NBC-TV. Red needed a new voice and picked a man (19 years younger) who had impressed him in a college football gig in Nov. 1949.

Kid from Fordham. Also with red hair. Willing to learn at the hands of a pioneer.

Kid named Vin Scully.

From left: Red Barber, Connie Desmond, Vin Scully

Red worked him hard. Told him not to get close to the players, and overall, Vin didn't, except for Ralph Branca, who threw the fateful pitch to Bobby Thomson. Red told him to always bring himself into the booth because it was the one thing he has that nobody else does.

I've told literally every student of mine -- the ones who also want to learn -- that same advice.

Red -- remember, Red was the boss and Vin worked for him -- pushed Vin to not go for such hyperbole like "the greatest of all time," especially early in his career.

You know. Not every game is the greatest, largest, or gargantuan.

In this Associated Press piece on Vin selling off his memorabilia, Scully (of course, number one all-time) told a story of Barber, whom he considered "a second father."

In his second year, Scully proclaimed Willie Mays as the best player he'd ever seen. Off the air, Barber told him, "Young man, you have not been around long enough to talk about the best player you've ever seen." Scully recalled, "He was going to make me a good announcer or be darned."

Opinions like that just weren't going to be allowed in Red's booth, and he was the boss. That's exactly why young broadcasters need molding and mentoring and someone to critique them. Barber -- beyond a doubt -- made Scully better.

Red left the Yankees after 1966 when he insisted that WPIX cameras show the paltry crowd of 413 fans in a September game.

"I don't know what the paid attendance is today" he said, "but whatever it is, it is the smallest crowd in the history of Yankee Stadium, and this crowd is the story, not the game."

His contract was not renewed.

His professional play-by-play career was over. That career included the Army-Navy Game, New York (football) Giants, the NFL Championship Game, the Orange Bowl, thirteen World Series and more.

He wrote numerous books. I own two of them: Rhubarb in the Catbird Seat and The Broadcasters, which I clutch tightly as one of the most important books I've ever read.

Learning about Barber -- and Scully, of course -- helped mold the type of play-by-play announcer I wanted to be (and others have influenced me as well).

Red began a weekly Friday visit with Bob Edwards in 1981 on Edwards' NPR radio show Morning Edition. I spent many a Friday morning with Red for a few minutes.

Barber also taped interviews with Ken Burns for the Baseball documentary than ran in 1994. Sadly, they ran posthumously, as Red died on Oct 22, 1992.

Crestfallen, I put Game 5 of the World Series between the Atlanta Braves and Toronto Blue Jays on my radio that night. Then, in the silence of my car, I was able to listen to the closest thing he had to a son -- Vin Scully -- briefly eulogize his mentor. His words were calm and eloquent. Red would have it no other way.

(Red has no survivors, as his wife Lylah died in 1997 and their daughter Sara died in 2005.)

Red, Vin said, had "a profound influence on my life and a major reason for any success that I might have had in this business," according a quote that ran in Barber's obituary in the New York Times.

A few final Barber thoughts: he was at first uncomfortable when he heard about Jackie Robinson joining the Dodgers in 1947. Red considered quitting before Lylah told him to not do anything rash. After meeting Robinson and watching him play, he decided to stay, and furthermore, became a fervent supporter of Black ballplayers. He was disgusted seeing the treatment that Robinson endured.

He was somewhat misrepresented in the movie 42, starring the just-passed Chadwick Boseman. While John C. McGinley's performance as Barber was outstanding, Red was seen as cheering for Robinson after Jackie hit a home run in Pittsburgh. There's not a chance on Marconi's life that Barber would have cheered. Ever.

He never cheered for anything. That was in his foundation as a an impartial reporter. Not -- ahem -- a homer.

David Halberstam has more in this great write up on Bleacher Report.

Lastly, when the Ford Frick Award for baseball broadcasting greatness was created, who do you think the first two honorees were?

You bet.

Red Barber and Mel Allen.

People in my world know who Red Barber is. Even Susan -- she of the "Yay Random Sports Team" t-shirt -- could tell you that Red Barber was Vin Scully's mentor.

Now you know.

Here endeth the lesson from the pea patch.