Sandra Tolliver: Voice of the Steelers Gone But Not Forgotten

Fans raise toast in honor of Cope and his colorful persona

By Sandra Tolliver
TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Wednesday, June 22, 2005

He wasn't the voice of the Steelers -- that's play-by-play man Bill Hillgrove -- but he was the voice of the Steelers. Some say his was the voice of Pittsburgh.
Steelers radio color analyst Myron Cope -- he of the nasal intonations and nonsense sayings -- said Tuesday it's time to permanently mute his microphone after 35 years.

At 76, plagued with a variety of health problems the past three years, a hoarse Cope acknowledged he has grown "too old to have a toddy" with the players, as he used to. Nevertheless, fans who heard the news of his retirement in South Side bars at noon began hoisting beers -- perhaps flavored with their own tears -- in Cope's honor.

"It was more entertaining listening to him than anybody else," said Dan Woodske, 24, of Beaver Falls, who recalled watching games with friends when he attended Pitt. They would turn down the sound on the television and listen to Cope on the radio.

"I liked it when he would forget names and babble incoherently, and then Bill Hillgrove would get him back on track," Woodske said.

At a meeting Monday, Cope informed Steelers management and the team's flagship radio stations WDVE-FM 102.5 and WBGG-AM-970 of his decision to call it a career.
Cope "put the color in color analysts" and "brought our fans closer to the team," Steelers president Art Rooney II said. The Steelers' home game Oct. 31 will be "Myron Cope Night" at Heinz Field, to give fans a chance to thank him, Rooney said.

Cope said he is pleased that his objectivity helped him to gain respect from Steelers fans and fans of opposing teams.
"I'm most proud of my credibility," he said. "I've always guarded it. I want people to believe if I say something, I know what I'm talking about."

His one-of-a-kind voice has become weak and raspy since Cope underwent throat surgery last July. He had planned to continue broadcasting this year, believing that therapy would cure his hoarseness. But retired Steelers executive Joe Gordon, a longtime close friend, persuaded Cope it was time to quit.

"I'm not surprised, because I think last year his health was suffering," said Steelers season-ticketholder Cindy Vannoy, 42, also of Beaver Falls, who was eating lunch with Woodske at Shootz Cafe on Carson Street. "You could tell there was something just not right."
Nobody will match Cope's enthusiasm, said Margie Kupper of Center Township who was seated at a nearby table.
"I have three boys, and they go to the Steelers games," she said. "They just love him. We're going to miss him."

"What was nice about it was his projection quality -- very, very strong projection when he was in his prime," said Lon Alan, 33, of West Mifflin, who stopped for a beer at Southside Sports Bar on Carson. "I can appreciate that because I'm a musician, a vocalist."
Bartender Heather Battocchi at Southside Sports Bar was surprised to learn that Cope invented the Terrible Towel.
"I never realized that," said Battocchi, 35, of Bloomfield. "That's pretty cool."

John Poister, creative services director for Pittsburgh-based Renda Broadcasting, was assignments manager at then-Steelers flagship station WTAE-1250 AM (now ESPN radio affiliate WEAE) when Cope, then a talk show host, came up with the idea in 1975. Station management wanted Cope to advertise a gimmick as the Steelers headed into the playoffs.

Cope already was hosting a hilarious locker room fashion show with the '70s Steelers wearing outrageous get-ups. The show debuted with fullback John "Frenchy" Fuqua wearing platform shoes with water-filled acrylic heels in which goldfish were swimming.
"Only Myron could have pulled that off," Poister said. "He had the whole town talking about the Steelers the next day."

The towel was born when Cope suggested that people grab gold towels before heading to Three Rivers Stadium. He introduced the concept on an 11 p.m. Sunday TV newscast by hurling towels at the anchorman and weatherman. By the end of the season, Poister said, "you could actually go to the store and buy a Terrible Towel."

At the playoff game, an estimated 30,000 spectators turned out waving the yellow towels.
"It didn't take long," Poister said. "Myron's power over the fans was enormous. They would do almost anything he said."
Said Cope: "I've always thought when I kick the bucket, there'll be a little story there, and it'll say, 'Creator of the towel dead.' "

Sandra Tolliver can be reached at stolliver@tribweb.com or (412) 320-7840.