Bob Elson owned Chicago; For many years he called White Sox Baseball; Loved Gambling too!

To celebrate the 2025 season, we continue Curt Smith’s series, Voices of Summer, on baseball’s all-time announcers to appear regularly through the year. Today, the only man whom a U.S. President asked to broadcast a World Series, “The Old Commander,” Bob Elson.

By CURT SMITH

“You have to know when to hold ’em,” Kenny Rogers sang, “know when to fold ‘em.” Bob Elson, a gin rummy whiz, had pigeons in every town. Chicago Tribune columnist Jerome Holtzman asked about lessons. “That is like asking Jascha Heifetz to teach you how to play the fiddle,” Bob snapped, confident of his cards.

Airing baseball from 1929 to 1971, Elson patented “He’s out!”, shilled like an artist, and hatched the on-field interview. In 1943, “The Old Commander” (TOC) —U.S. Great Lakes Naval Training Center, 1942-45—was given leave to air the Fall Classic. “Franklin Roosevelt asked that he announce,” Bob’s broadcast protégé, Jack Brickhouse, said. “Only time that a president pulled rank to get a uniformed baseball guy home.”

Brickhouse deemed him “the most imitated, creative announcer who ever lived—a god.” Instead, finally old enough as a 1960s teen to hear him, I thought Bob ungodly dull. Elson was no longer Elson. He should have folded before the dealer closed.

In 1914, Bob, nine, sang in Chicago’s Paulist Chorister Choir. He then entered Loyola, transferring to Northwestern. In 1928, visiting pool whiz Willie Hoppe, TOC stayed at St. Louis’s Chase Hotel, its top floor housing station KWK. Touring it, Bob found forty men in line. “You’re the last today [for a radio audition],” a woman said, thinking him an applicant. What the heck, Elson figured, his career taking a carom shot.

Bob read a script, became a finalist, and was picked by listeners. Next day Chicago’s WGN brass learned of his coup. Debuting, he soon tired of organ music, covered the Cubs and White Sox and became baseball’s pre-war network headliner. “I was close to [Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain] Landis when he was making assignments. He’d bellow, ‘Don’t mention any movie stars attending the World Series even if they slide into second base.’”

In 1932, Elson called the Series where Babe Ruth did (or did not) predict a homer at the Cubs’ Wrigley Field. Said Bob: “Babe really did point [to the bleachers].” 1937: In another Classic, “And there’s a long one! It’s going toward the stands! . . . Joe DiMaggio has hit a home run over the roof!” 1939: Ending multiple coverage, sponsor Gillette gave exclusivity to Red Barber and TOC. “Bob was like Graham McNamee in the 1920s,” said announcer Milo Hamilton. “Bob on an event [calling the 1930-41 and 1943 Series and 1935-42 All-Star Game] meant it mattered.”

In 1941, Ted Williams homered in the ninth inning to give the American League a 7-5 All-Star triumph, The Kid’s mother telling Elson she did a backward somersault on hearing Bob call the blast. Two years later baseball released its first official Series film, The Commander narrating them through 1948. In 1940-41, Elson was named The Sporting News “Announcer of the Year,” a precursor to his Hall of Fame 1979 Ford C. Frick Award for broadcast excellence.

“You’re like  sh__,” Ralph Houk once told Howard Cosell. “You’re everywhere.” He could have meant Elson reading ads, hyping bands, and interviewing actors, singers, and politicos from the Ambassador East Hotel’s Pump Room and the “Twentieth Century Limited.” Bob’s worst guest: DiMaggio, “the world’s greatest introvert, who married the world’s greatest extrovert [another guest, Marilyn Monroe].” In 1931, Elson quizzed manager Connie Mack in baseball’s first on-field interview. “Players were antsy, but before long they got the swing.” Everywhere.

In 1946, Bob returned from World War II to find one former team, the Cubs, aired by WIND Radio’s Bert Wilson. Elson moved to WJJD and the White Sox. Don Wells grew up in rural Illinois listening to Bob. In 1953, he joined Bob at the Pale Hose’s Comiskey Park. One day Wells, Brickhouse, and 18 others paid a stripper $40 to crash Elson’s 15-minute show,” Bob said. “I’m reading sports, and she takes everything off except her shoes.”

In 1959, the Sox won their first pennant in forty years. Early Wynn went 22-10. Nellie Fox became American League Most Valuable Player. Luis Aparicio presaged today’s slew of great Latin players. Chicago clinched the pennant on September 22. On the final out, Mayor Richard Daley ordered city air sirens to sound. “Prophetic,” Elson later mused. Their wail preceded his.

From 1947  to 1965, Gillette, the Commissioner, and NBC TV chose Series television announcers. “They’d pick one guy from each team,” said Sox owner Bill Veeck. “Both called half of each game.” The Yankees’ Mel Allen had aired his first Classic in 1938. “With the Sox in the ’59 World Series, it couldn’t be him,” noted NBC’s Lindsey Nelson. “The problem was that [the network’s sports head] Tom Gallery didn’t think Elson was in Allen’s league.”

Improbably, Elson and Gallery had grown up on the same block, loathing each other. “That bastard will not do our Series,” Tom ordered. Lindsey suggested a solution: Have NBC pick Sox TV Voice Jack Brickhouse, who reached an NBC audience of 120 million. Shunted to local radio WCFL, Elson “reached maybe 10 people,” he said, still bitter in 1975. “Not doing it was the biggest hurt of my career.”

Elson and the Sox then began a slow list leeward. Hamilton was his 1961-65 colleague. “Bob lacked glitz,” Milo said, noting how many now called him square. Off-air, he returned to the gin rummy table, Univac even trying to match him against a machine. Daily he phoned his broker. Shilling was as frequent. “Ball two,” Bob said, “and we had a ball last night at Mama’s restaurant.” Nelson laughed, “ “Elson had to be on the take. His plugs weren’t even for sponsors.”

In 1969, President Nixon hailed baseball’s centennial at the White House. “Oh, I know Bob,” he said, halting an aide’s introduction. “I even knew him back when the White Sox were good.” Axed in 1970, TOC visited troops in Viet Nam. Less rewarding was 1971, spent with the Oakland A’s. Recalled owner Charlie Finley: “People said he talked too much about old-timers like Landis and Mack.”

Returning to Chicago, Elson began an unfinished memoir.  In 1976, “a failing heart,” wrote David Condon, “forced him to lighten his load.” Bob died at 76 in 1981. Said Irv Kupcinet: “No one doubts that he has already found a gin rummy pigeon among the angels.” Hold ’em, fold ’em. For the first time, the ultimate deal maker owned all The Old Commander’s cards.

Next: Baseball’s P.T. Barnum, Washington’s Arch McDonald