Jim O'Donnell: Pat Hughes always the good guy in Cubs broadcast world

WHEN PAT HUGHES ACCEPTS the Ford C. Frick Award at Cooperstown next summer, in intent it will be for "broadcast excellence."

Full truth, for those who have tracked the man's 27-year run as Cubs radio play-by-play announcer, it should also be for " ... and surviving Harry Caray."

That's because when Hughes was hired in November 1995, the No. 1 toxin in the Cubs broadcast machine was the diminished, downright mean-spirited Caray.

To much of the Cubs-consuming public, Caray remained the rascally avuncular "Bud Man."

Deeper in the broadcast crevices of Wrigley Field, he had devolved into a spiteful senior citizen.

AT AGE UNKNOWN - and estimated to be at least 80 - Caray was still reeling from the after effects of his first known stroke.

Like a diminished man obsessing with only the shiny-key tasks at hand, Caray's agenda was simple:

• Retain his untouchable alpha status in the WGN / Cubs broadcast booths - whatever the consequences to his legacy; and,

• Power haul grandson Chip Caray into the dynamic to eventually succeed him as Grand Exalted Lovable.

THE ARRIVAL OF HUGHES was precipitated by the decision of young Thom Brennaman to bolt the jiggling radio / TV tightrope after six seasons.

Hughes had completed his 12th year as No. 2 man to Bob Uecker with the Milwaukee Brewers. He'd become a frequent finalist for bigger MLB gigs.

Brennaman left for higher-profile opportunities with growing FOX Sports. His ill-fated return to the Cincinnati Reds wouldn't happen until 2006.

Caray and Brennaman had rotated between WGN Radio and TV. Brennaman normally called the middle three innings of games on WGN,Channel 9. In 1995, while Caray continued to recover from his stroke, Wayne Larrivee handled many Cubs road games.

AT THE END OF THE 1995 SEASON, Brennaman announced his exit. Key Cubs broadcast decision-makers - including Channel 9 boss Jim Zerwekh and WGN-AM's Dan Fabian and Tisa LaSorte - decided to set up a clear line of demarcation.

Radio would get an exclusive play-by-play man. Caray would be listed as No. 1 TV caller with whatever supplemental talent was needed to keep the Hey-Harry! facade going.

Caray lobbied hard for the hiring of his grandson. His effort was so intense that one morning, no less than the Chicago Tribune bannered that Chip Caray would be so knighted at any moment.

At the time, the fortunate grandson was calling Orlando Magic games near his Florida base. In season, he also made a long commute to Seattle for Mariners TV.

ON A LATE NOVEMBER MORNING, WGN bosses threw the Carays the swerve ball: The relatively unknown Hughes would be their new radio guy. A TV PBP'er would be named later. Chip Caray was still "under consideration" for that role.

Harry seethed. Management wisely threw him a bone by announcing that he would retain a radio presence doing pregame interviews on AM-720. That gesture was one click short of hauling him out of the radio booth in handcuffs.

Cubs and WGN chieftains attempted to maintain a firewall between Caray and any Bad Harry voodoo he might attempt to direct toward Hughes.

HUGHES WAS SAVVY ENOUGH to read the political GPS. He merely came in and did his thing - a crisp, dependable professional with a tremendously resonant major league voice.

The aura of the booth he worked with Ron Santo until Santo's passing in 2010 featured a sense of ease. Hughes was the classicist and the stabilizer. Santo was the absolutely beloved homer who had the latitude to launch into free flight as the Wrigley-wise radio eccentric.

It clicked.

HUGHES HAD GOTTEN a doctoral degree in successfully working in concert with alpha types in Milwaukee. He called Marquette games for years alongside Al McGuire, one of the easiest mega-talents in the history of American sportscasting to be around.

Hughes also coexisted with Bob Uecker, the oddly placed "Mr. Baseball." Uecker was a fellow who had experienced the seductive lights of "Johnny Carson" and Hollywood. He struggled at times to maintain image and patience amid the brats, bingo and brew of the belch-and-barrel fans in Milwaukee.

HARRY CARAY EVENTUALLY got his way but it all but killed him as he tried. His grandson was passed over for the 1996 Cubs TV opening. He would eventually be hired before the 1998 season.

In 1997, a promising young broadcaster named Josh Lewin caught the full wrathful surge of Hurricane Harry. He was brought in to primarily call Cubs road games on Channel 9. Caray made his life hell, so much so that Lewin - all of age 28 - left for less lethal ballparks after one year.

Caray died in February 1998. Appropriate public lament was expressed by almost all of his colleagues. Deeper behind the airwaves at Wrigley Field and Tribune Tower, there were some private sighs of relief.

AS FOR HUGHES, his week has been one long walk-off trot since the Baseball Hall of Fame made the announcement of his impending Frick Award on Wednesday.

Whatever the full realities, he has retained a consistent public "nice" in Chicago for close to three decades. Amid the close-quartered knife play of local sports media, that in itself is a Hall of Fame skill.

TWO YEARS AGO, as the pandemic was draining life force out of America, Hughes - without a hint of fanfare - spoke via Zoom to a modest sports literature class at Palatine High School.

"The biggest difference between television and radio," he told the students, "Is that in radio, the audience is completely blind. You really have to paint a clear picture for the audience to see.

"That makes radio a lot harder than many people may think."

People may also not think about the smooth maneuvering it took for Hughes in his initial years on the North Side to survive Harry Caray.

But he did.

And now, his next major league step up will be to Cooperstown.

• Jim O'Donnell's Sports and Media column appears Sunday and Thursday. Reach him at jimodonnelldh@yahoo.com. All communications may be considered for publication.