Bye Now, Myron

About three years ago, I was assigned to review Myron Cope's book, Double Yoi! "Keep it to 200 words," the editor said.

Double yoi, indeed. Two-hundred words? Hmm-hah. That seemed hardly worth bothering Mr. Cope. So I checked with someone else: Are you interested in a profile of Myron Cope? "Sure." Length? "Whatever you need."

I called Cope, explained that I wanted to interview him for two pieces. Well, he was busy prepping for a Steelers game that weekend, he said, but he could talk when he got back into town. But he warned me that the best he could allow was about a half-hour, because he wasn't feeling well, and he knew he'd be tired. We set a date and a time. "Bye now," he said.

I literally grew up listening to Myron Cope. When I went to college, I tortured my roommate by listening to Cope's talk show as I did homework. (What a dumbkopf I was: That could explain my grades in freshman calc and physics, now that I think of it.) He was from Baltimore: "How can you listen to that guy?" he'd ask. "I can't stand that." Like so many people, he couldn't get past the voice.

But that nasal gargle, which Cope himself often mocks, masked the very civil way that Cope conducted his talk show (even idiotic callers got a fair shake). It also masked his dry wit, his trenchant analysis of the culture and business of sports, and his plain decency.

I've been blessed to interview everyone from Nobel Prize winners to convicted murderers, but for crying out loud, this was Myron Cope.

Needless to say, the day for the interview came, and I was as nervous as I've ever been. I had 30 minutes. I had to make it count. With one eye on the clock, we started.

In the end, Cope gave me an hour. And he thanked me for interviewing him. And when the stories came out, he sent me a thank you note for my interest in him. I keep it in the top drawer of my desk at home and pull it out every so often.

Out of all of the thousands of people who have talked to Cope over the years, and the hundreds of local yokels who've interviewed him, I'm sure I rank somewhere between the nacho guy at Giants Stadium and the gas station attendant who wiped his windows in 1974. But he took the time to write me a thank you note.

Too many people --- like my roommate --- have written Cope off as a clown because of his voice and his often outrageous stunts. (Remember the music videos he used to do for the WTAE-TV news?) But if you ever have some time to kill in the library, check out Cope's books, or look up some of the work he did in the '60s for True and Sports Illustrated and The Saturday Evening Post. (The "Reader's Guide to Periodical Literature" will help you find the stories.) The man could write. In fact, he still can: Double Yoi! is a warm, witty and often bittersweet memoir that's well worth your time, even if you're not interested in sports. Cope's chapters about the death of his wife and his own struggle with depression and drinking are wrenching and funny at the same time.

In my recent move, I rediscovered something that I was afraid I'd lost: It was a reel-to-reel tape I made of Cope's last talk show on the old WTAE radio. I threaded it up and listened to a few minutes, and instantly was reminded why I enjoyed Cope's talk show so much. There was warmth, humor and humanity in every word. (The only other sports talk show I ever liked as much his was Bruce Keidan's, and for the same reason.)

Western Pennsylvania has been fortunate to have had a monopoly on Cope for more than 30 years. Lord willing, I hope he gets a chance to work on the books he says he wants to write --- I'm looking forward to them --- and I hope retirement treats him well. He's a good man, a unique talent, and one of the few Pittsburgh personalities truly deserving of the title "legend."

...

Myron Cope Links:

An appreciation by Bob Labriola of Steelers.com

Joe Starkey of the Tribune-Review on Cope's writing

Bob Dvorchak of the Post-Gazette on Cope's retirement

"Everything is Cope-Aesthetic," Mark Collins, Pitt Magazine, Sept. 1996

...

In other business, it's the 25th anniversary of "The Blues Brothers," and the Chicago Sun-Times is running a weeklong look back at the places in Chicago that were featured in the film. The church where James Brown was preaching has fallen on hard times, and the street where John Lee Hooker was singing in an open market was demolished to make way for the expansion of the University of Chicago.

And don't tell The Penguin, but the orphanage has been torn down anyway. (Of course, it was only a false-front movie set, built in an alley.)

It's good stuff, even if you're not on a mission from God.