Longtime voice of the Giants entertained with wit, wisdom
Hank Greenwald is best known for his work with the Giants, but he began his Bay Area career covering Warriors games in the 1960s. HANK GREENWALD 1935-2018
Hank Greenwald, among the most beloved of all San Francisco Giants broadcasters, died at California Pacific Medical Center on Monday afternoon. He was 83.
Greenwald had been suffering from heart issues and kidney failure in recent months, and after an onset of bronchitis, he was taken to the hospital Saturday.
“He’d just been feeling rotten for a long time,” said his wife, Carla. “He died after valiant efforts by a fabulous medical staff.”
Greenwald is survived by Carla and their two children, Doug, 44, and Kellie, 40. Carla said Greenwald “was never interested in having any kind of memorial service. We’ll
have some sort of celebrationof-life gathering later on this year.”
Known for his extensive knowledge and dry wit, Greenwald was the Giants’ lead radio announcer from 1979-86, returning in 1989 — after two season with the Yankees — through the 1996 season. He came out of retirement to do a portion of the A’s television broadcasts in 2004-05.
“Hank was a broadcasting legend throughout the Bay Area and was a huge part of the Giants throughout his 16 seasons as our play-by-play announcer,” Giants President and CEO Larry Baer said in a statement released by the team. “He was the key link to our fans listening at home and brought our game to life through the radio.
“Hank and his family continued to stay connected with the Giants following his retirement and he often could be found talking baseball or taking in a game on the broadcast level of AT&T Park. He will be deeply missed.”
Greenwald was born in Detroit, where he grew up listening to Tigers broadcasts and became so enamored with future baseball hall of famer Hank Greenberg, who shared his Jewish faith, that he changed his name from Howard to Hank. After World War II, Greenwald’s family moved to Rochester, N.Y., where he discovered a distinct brand of baseball heaven.
“Russ Hodges did the Giants’ games on radio, Red Barber did the Dodgers and Mel Allen did the Yankees,” he said. “I could also pick up the Cardinals, the White Sox and the Pirates. That began my fascination with the voices of baseball. I’d sit in my room at night and see how many games I could find on the air. It was magic. I loved the game, and read everything I could about its history.”
Greenwald graduated from Syracuse University, known for producing many greats of the broadcasting business, in 1957. Over the years, he announced games for Syracuse football and the Syracuse Nationals of the NBA. In 1964, he moved to the Bay Area to work with Bill King broadcasting for the then-San Francisco Warriors. After calling minor-league baseball for several years, Greenwald joined the Giants in 1979 to work with Lindsey Nelson, one of his broadcast idols.
By the end of his Giants tenure, in 1996, Greenwald had broadcast 2,798 consecutive major-league games.
Early in 1999, Greenwald released a book of his memoirs, “This Copyrighted Broadcast,” that included critical comments about Baer and the unpleasant behavior of Barry Bonds. After ordering some 500 books to be sold at their Dugout Stores in the Bay Area, the Giants shipped them back to the publisher, to which Greenwald responded, “Did they have a book-burning?” The relationship thawed over the years, but Greenwald never expressed regret about anything he’d written.
Broadcasting the Yankees’ games fulfilled a lifetime dream for Greenwald, who eventually grew weary of owner George Steinbrenner’s tyrannical ways. “New York baseball fans never really got a chance to know him, and that is our loss,” wrote New York Daily News media critic Bob Raissman. “The only failing broadcasting grade anyone could give Greenwald is an ‘F’ in ego . ... His road should end in Cooperstown and a place in the broadcasters’ wing of the Hall of Fame.”
That honor has evaded Greenwald, although his many fans have hope for a future honor from baseball’s Hall of Fame. “If anyone belongs there, it’s Hank,” said current Giants broadcaster Mike Krukow, a pitcher on the team during Greenwald’s heyday. “I loved Hank because we had some horrendous teams back then, and he was always able to steer clear of the obvious, with his humor and knowledge, always upbeat and entertaining. He’d say, ‘You can have a bad game, but there’s no excuse for a bad broadcast.’ He always told me I should seriously think about going into broadcasting, and when I did, he taught me about preparation, the rhythm and flow of a game, respect for your craft. He was my mentor. My professor.”
Upon returning to the Giants in 1989, Greenwald was on a spring-training field with Willie Mays when The Chronicle snapped a photograph with a caption reading, “Two old Giants reunited in spring training. Willie Mays (left) and Hank Greenwald.” Noted Hank, “I said to myself if they have to identify which one Mays is, I really have made it in this business.”
Greenwald began his A’s stint in the television booth, but he did several radio broadcasts with Ken Korach, who savored the experience. “Hank was such an influential guy in the business, and he was like a father figure to me in many ways,” Korach recalled. “He had done what I aspired to do, in such a classy and dignified way. There were things he said on the air that were so exactly right, they’d stay in my mind.”
As for the Greenwald humor, “Nobody could entertain better if it was a lousy game,” Korach said. “One time Hank was filling in for Bill King on the radio, and we had a sponsor, the Valero gas company. So Hank reads the tagline — ‘Valero, Gas with Vrroom! And by the way, nobody knows gas better than Bill King.’ ”
Giants broadcaster Jon Miller was a teenager in Hayward when Greenwald joined the Warriors’ broadcasting crew, working with King.
“You’re talking about maybe the greatest two-man booth in NBA history,” Miller said. “Hank was the color man, but Bill always let him do the third quarter. He was always the total professional, right on point, but always looking for a laugh, which I loved. One night somebody took a long jumper that hit the back of the rim and went right over the backboard. Hank goes, ‘That’s up and up and ... gone. Home run.’ I’d never heard anyone do something like that, and I never forgot it.”