Rosey Rowswell

"Do You Remember Rosey?"
By Bill Brant, Radio/TV Broadcaster & Musician

I have been asked that question several times; "Do you remember Rosey?" The strange thing about the query is that you never had to retort with, "Rosey, who?" Because there was only one, and everybody knew that one very well. Albert Kennedy Rowswell. But to everybody, "Rosey." The original "radio voice" of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

1943 was the year I joined WWSW as a twenty-year-old, fledgling announcer. I joined the late Bill Cullen and "Daddy" Dave Tyson, who were also on staff then. One of the pleasant aspects of that job was coming in contact with and sharing the good humor of "Rosey" as he recreated out-of-town Pirate games. When one was in the announcer's booth, where we did most of our broadcasting, you looked through a large plate glass window, through a studio, to another studio beyond. And there sat "Rosey," Jack Craddock, his "sidekick" and his telegrapher, with his ticker tape machine. Rosey recreated the baseball games from this small space and made you feel as if you were there. How did he do that? It wasn't easy. He had to tell a story that was generated by his fertile mind and small three-inch pieces of ticker tape that the telegrapher gave him in proper rotation. They would give minimum information about the action. For example... "Strike one"… "Infield moves to the right."… "Ott swings"… "Ott on first". These cryptic notes were all on the small pieces of paper lined up on the right side of his work area. We used to marvel at his effortless manner, painting the picture he couldn't see and passing it along to his favorite people, anybody who loved the Pittsburgh Pirates. He certainly did. One of my jobs as an announcer was to keep an eye on Rosey. Sometimes, he needed our assistance. For example, when there was a home run, he would signal us, and that would be our cue to run back to his studio and pick up a box of broken glass. As he excitedly told "Aunt Minne" to open up the window, there came the sound of a shattering window pane as we dumped the glass into another container. If there was a later homer, we just reversed the procedure, dumping the glass back into its original container. In 1947, when Bob Prince joined Rosey, it became his responsibility to do the honors.

During the Pirate broadcasts, the sound of the ticker machine was always present in the background, except when he turned the "mike" off. At that time, he would talk to his associates, or on occasion, he had a story to tell them or the announcer on duty. He often interrupted the story to continue his "play-by-play." During those intervals, there was no sound in the air. The dreaded "dead air" that broadcasters avoid. But that was Rosey. Most people were unaware that, in the off-season, he was in great demand as an after-dinner speaker nationwide. He appeared in forty states and traveled about fifty thousand miles a year. His great humor and philosophy were undoubtedly well known. One time, when Bill Cullen was on duty, Rosey motioned for him to return to the studio, whereupon he said… "Bill, I thumb-tacked some important information to the door down the hall. Would you mind bringing it to me?" Bill replied, "I'll be happy to". In a few minutes, Rosey looked around, and there was Cullen in the door, which he had removed from its hinges and carted to the studio with the note firmly attached. Rosey got such a kick out of the caper that he had a tough time returning to the game. Cullen was a genuine "imp".

It was in that same small radio studio that these phrases were born. In addition to "Open the window Aunt Minnie". Everybody knew "the old dipsey doodle," "doozey marooney, FOB meant the bases were full of Bucs," and of course, "how sweet it is". Rosey was responsible for getting the ladies interested in baseball. His "down home, folksy" delivery seemed to appeal to all.

Rosey Rowswell was a wiry, "up" person who weighed 120 pounds. He never drank intoxicating beverages, coffee, or tea. He drank water, even for breakfast. His singular known vice, not considered a vice at that time, was smoking. A pack a day. And he never ate the hundreds of banquets he attended. He always ate before he got there. Despite his busy banquet schedule, he still found time to write two poetry books and conduct another radio program called "Rosey Reflections." One of his poems, "If You Go First", received national acclaim.

Rosey left us on February 6th, 1955, at the age of 71. Over 3000 Pittsburghers and others were there to say farewell. Writer Edwin Beacher wrote:
"Crowds lined both sides of Neville Street for a block outside the Samson Funeral Home, where eight rooms had been filled to overflowing for the services. Outside, older women wearing babushkas mourned side by side with bobby soxers, bewhiskered old timers, and school children toting book bags and lunch boxes. Hundreds of others gathered at Allegheny Cemetery as the late afternoon sun faded into the hillside, there to see him laid to rest on this hillside facing west, which Rosey had selected."

"One of a kind" is an overused and sometimes abused description of a favorite person. However, I must say that in my years, I have met few who could even come close to this philosophical, friendly man with the dry wit and the twinkle in his eye. Small in stature but huge in proportion to love for his fellow man. I still hear him say, "Hey Bill, I've got a good one for you." (Story, that is.)

"Do I remember Rosey?" Oh yes.