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But Zminda’s review of Caray’s life and career isn’t robotic. He fleshes out the events that helped shape Caray’s public image as well as the man behind the mic.

Here are several anecdotes and excerpts from the book that might not be familiar to Caray’s fans.

1. When was Caray born in ºüÀêÊÓƵ?

Classic of Caray, it’s difficult to pinpoint his age with absolute certainty — he often would change his birth date, depending on the audience.

When Caray died Feb. 18, 1998, the Tribune wrote, “According to Who's Who in America, Caray was born in 1919, making him 78, but the Cubs media guide lists his birth date as 1920. Even with those dates, there was always speculation that he was a few years older.�

And Zminda noted in his book that New York Times and USA Today pegged his birth year as 1919, while the ºüÀêÊÓƵ, Chicago Sun-Times and Sports Illustrated reported it as 1914.

Zminda wrote: “Two decades after Caray’s death, it is fairly certain that Caray’s birthday was March 1, 1914; that is the date that is listed in ºüÀêÊÓƵ health records, and that is also the date listed on his Social Security death record (available online at and other genealogy websites).”

Caray would get others’ names, ages and other facts wrong — or simply took artistic license — so why not his own?

2. Caray had his duels with Cubs broadcaster Milo Hamilton.

Caray had “Holy Cow!�

Off-and-on broadcast partner Hamilton used to say “Holy Toledo!�

But the two had what arguably could be called a holy war. Hamilton openly suspected Caray was behind at least one of his firings, if not three. Former Tribune columnist Bob Verdi, the ghost writer for Caray’s autobiography, said Caray flat out refused to put Hamilton in his book.

Two days after Caray’s funeral, Hamilton was quoted as saying, “Harry felt that he was bigger than the game� — prompting Caray’s son Skip to call Hamilton “a very sick man.�

Hamilton, as noted in Zminda’s book, tried to approach Skip to explain that the quote was taken from an old article, but Skip waved him away, prompting Hamilton to say Skip treats people like “(bleep)� as his father did.

Zminda illustrated how contentious the relationship was, referencing Hamilton’s book, “Making Airwaves: 60 years at Milo’s Microphone.�

Hamilton, who had leukemia, was hospitalized during the 1982 Cubs season. Zminda noted that “he was watching a Cubs broadcast from his hospital room when he heard Harry say on the air, ‘You know, I never missed any games. I don’t understand how a guy can take time off during the season.’ �

Hamilton died in 2015.

3. “Disco Demolition� and Howard Cosell’s deconstruction.

There was plenty to blame to go around for the White Sox’s infamous “Disco Demolition� promotion on July 12, 1979, which turned into a riot on the field and ended with the forfeiting the second game of a doubleheader against the Tigers at Comiskey Park.

Cosell, like several of Caray’s peers, was not fond of Caray’s style and assigned at least some of the blame to Caray, the Sox’s TV play-by-play man at the time.

As Zminda reminds readers, Cosell said on ABC radio: “There’s just too much of the carnival atmosphere, from the very on-air presentation of the White Sox games to the front office itself.�

Caray tried to calm the masses on the field with a rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game� — without success.

“Harry was a pro,� Sox owner Bill Veeck later said. “He was the dance band on the Titanic, playing through the disaster.�

4. Caray didn’t invent “Holy Cow!�

Sure, knowledgeable baseball fans already were aware of this, but it bears further exploration.

Stew Thornley wrote in an article for the Society for American Baseball Research, “Holler ‘Holy Cow!’ in the eastern United States, and people might think of Phil Rizzuto, the New York Yankees shortstop-turned-broadcaster, while a cry of ‘Holy Cow!’ in (ºüÀêÊÓƵ) and Chicago brings Harry Caray to mind. In the Upper Midwest, though, ‘Holy Cow!’ remains synonymous with Halsey Hall, who, if not the first to use the expression on a baseball broadcast, was at least using it before Rizzuto or Caray.â€�

Zminda delves deeper into the phrase’s origin, crediting USA Today reporter Lisa Winston’s research that found “Jack Holiday, who broadcast games for the New Orleans Pelicans of the minor-league Southern Association, also was using ‘Holy Cow!’ as early as the 1930s.�

Zminda adds that Caray “almost certainly was the first to popularize the term for audiences listening to Major League Baseball.�

5. Caray had a penchant for embellishment.

What’s better than fun at the old ballpark? More fun.

Bob Costas, who was interviewed for the book, told the Tribune last month that when he worked at Caray’s former station KMOX-AM in ºüÀêÊÓƵ in the 1970s, Cardinals fans would regale him with stories of Caray’s vivid calls.

But for the listener who made his or her first visit to Sportsman’s Park, “the game disappointed them to some extent because it wasn’t as good as listening to Harry on the radio,� Costas told the Tribune.

That probably wasn’t an accident. Caray came from an era in radio when broadcasters would re-create road games, but some peers and other journalists were uncomfortable with Caray’s sometimes loose relationship with the truth when calling games.

Post-Dispatch writer Rick Hummel’s emailed Zminda: “When I went to my first game, there weren’t as many exciting plays as he suggested on the radio, but he made the game fun.�

Former Tribune reporter Ed Sherman summed up in an article published the day after the broadcaster’s death: “Caray made baseball's most exciting moments more fun. He made baseball's mundane moments — and Lord knows there are many — fun.�

6. There were two sides to Caray’s fandom.

Ironic for someone who came to be known as a “homer,� and once was called former Cubs general manager Dallas Green’s “house man,� Caray sometimes was feared by players and reviled by managers, team executives and sponsors because of his bluntness.

Hummel wrote to Zminda that former Cardinals third baseman Ken Boyer “paid a heavy price for turning down an interview with Caray one time. Caray did not hesitate to get all over Boyer if he failed in a particular key at-bat and made sure he always played second fiddle to Stan Musial.�

According to the Tribune’s Paul Sullivan in a 2014 article, Sox booth partner Jimmy Piersall said “Caray once told Sox Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf: ‘We don’t second-guess. We first-guess.’ �

7. What is Caray’s legacy?

A running theme in Zminda’s book, of course, props up Caray as the consummate salesman. Critics say he sold himself. Admirers say he sold the game itself — attendance and ratings rose wherever he chose to roost.

Forbes valued the Cubs this year at $3.1 billion.

Zminda conducted many interviews for the book, but he sought distinguished former Sun-Times columnist Ron Rapoport’s counsel with properly characterizing Caray’s imprint.

Rapoport says in the book, “Harry’s impact on the Cubs franchise was immeasurable. He was the face of the franchise in a way that no player could have been, because the players didn’t stay that long; they came and went, especially in that era. But Harry was there forever.�