Did 'Cub-Fan, Bud-Man' Harry Caray really drink all those beers?

Josh Peter | USA TODAY Sports

CHICAGO — Sitting at a corner table inside Harry Caray's Italian Steakhouse, Dutchie Caray, widow of the legendary Chicago Cubs broadcaster, held one of what are known as "Harry Caray's drinking diaries."

The collection of books was kept by Caray, who supposedly recorded, for tax purposes, his bar stops in the early 1970s. We're talking Hall of Fame numbers here — if not Cooperstown, then for Alcoholics Anonymous.

Handwritten notes list 1,362 bar stops in 1971 and 1,242 in 1972, after which Caray stopped keeping detailed notes because he decided against using his off-hours drinking as a tax write-off, Dutchie Caray said. Picking over a plate of whitefish, she disclosed something not found in the diaries — and something that might give Cubs fans needed hope.

During the year before Caray died in 1998 at 83, the self-described "Cub Fan, Bud Man" was drinking non-alcoholic beer. It was doctor's orders after Caray developed heart trouble, according to his widow.

"People assumed that Harry was still drinking, because what he would do was he'd put a real Budweiser bottle in front and then we'd put non-alcoholic O'Doul's into his glass," Dutchie Caray told USA TODAY Sports. "He didn't want people to know that he wasn't still drinking Bud, because that didn't fit his image."

As the Cubs face a 2-0 deficit in the National League Championship Series, it might be exactly what the long-suffering fan base needs to hear. After all, is rallying against the New York Mets to win the NLCS and then win their first World Series title since 1908 any less improbable than Harry Caray giving up alcohol?

"He asked the doctor, 'When can I have another drink?' " Dutchie Caray said. "The doctor said, 'When the Cubs win the World Series.' "

Here's something that figures to last even longer than the Cubs' World Series championship drought: Harry Caray's popularity. In Chicago, where he was play-by-play man for the White Sox from 1971 to 1981 and the Cubs from 1982 to 1997, he remains literally larger than life.

His animated, and occasionally inebriated, commentary burnished the reputation of Chicago's most popular tavern, also known as Wrigley Field. He also was famous for leading fans in an off-key rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game, which has spawned a new tradition of guest singers paying homage to Caray, with more than 1,000 versions over the last 17 years.

A towering statue of Caray that usually stands outside Wrigley Field has been moved into storage because of construction, depriving Cubs fans a chance to scale it and leave a can of Budweiser in its left hand (the right hand is holding a microphone). But last week a sold-out crowd at Wrigley Field erupted with joy when an image of Caray appeared on the Jumbotron.

The Cubs cued up old video, and suddenly there was Caray again leading Cubs fans during the seventh-inning stretch.

Two innings later, the Cubs beat the St. Louis Cardinals to win a playoff series at home for the first time in their 139-year history, and more than a few fans toasted Caray — especially those packed around the 60-foot, 6-inch-long bar at Harry Caray's Italian Steakhouse, now in its 28th year of operation.

"Harry might be bigger in death than in life," said Grant DePorter, president and managing partner of Harry Caray's Restaurant Group.

Since Caray's death, DePorter has added to the roster that now includes: Harry Caray's Tavern; Harry Caray's 7th Inning Stretch; Holy Mackerel! (a seafood restaurant); Harry Caray's Catering & Events; Harry's To Go, and a section of the Chicago Sports Museum devoted to Caray.

Revenue is up sixfold, according to DePorter.

In the immortal words of Harry Caray, "Holy cow!"

"We've stood the test of time," DePorter said.

Talking about Caray's enduring popularity, DePorter and Dutchie Caray sat side-by-side during a recent lunch at the original Harry Caray's restaurant. When Caray was alive, Dutchie Caray said, she was happily anonymous. But since her husband's death, she has taken on a more visible role, at the behest of others.

Illinois governors have referred to her as "The First Lady of Baseball," and, formalizing the tribute, the state issued her license plates that read: LDYBB1.

Recently, the city of Chicago named a street in Dutchie Caray's honor, and she joked about whether she would now be asked to sweep it clean. She was used to handling all the domestic chores when Caray was alive, she told USA TODAY Sports.

"Ask him for a screwdriver, you got orange juice and vodka," she said. "If anything went wrong, it was, 'Dutchie! Dutchie!' He couldn't pour coffee. Honestly."

DePorter grinned, even more so when Dutchie Caray told the story about how Caray was so domestically challenged he couldn't figure out how to open a trash bag. This is what DePorter had in mind when he persuaded Dutchie to become more involved with Harry Caray's Restaurant Group.

Although it's easy to find audiotape of Caray online, it's Dutchie Caray and others who help cultivate Caray's legacy that's gone global.

DePorter has organized an annual Worldwide Toast to Harry. Drawing on the broadcaster's enduring popularity, DePorter has enlisted the help of Will Ferrell, Bill Murray and Bill and Hillary Clinton while growing the event from one that aimed to involve 73,000 people — in honor of the number of Budweisers that Caray estimated he drank during his life, DePorter said — to the 5 million fans from 120 countries DePorter said were involved in this year's toast.

DePorter keeps a stack of laminated photos showing fans, some wearing Harry Caray masks, toasting the late Cubs broadcaster around the world.

"Grant has worked really, really diligently to keep Harry's spirit alive and well," said Jim Rittenberg, one of Caray's former drinking buddies. "The legend would have lived on, but (DePorter) has kept that image alive."

Turns out, Caray protected that beloved and marketable image, and his pretending to drink Budweiser when he was drinking non-alcoholic beer is only part of the evidence. DePorter noted that Caray's trademark eyeglasses got bigger and bigger over the years even though the prescription stopped changing.

"He just liked the larger-than-life look," said DePorter, who sells oversized Harry Caray novelty eyeglasses for $3.95 apiece.

But DePorter noted that Caray never charged fans for his autograph or refused an autograph request. In fact, Dutchie Caray said, Caray kept his phone number publicly listed until his death. They told the stories about Caray from a part of the restaurant with which he was least familiar.

Caray preferred to be seated at the bar seat closest to entrance of his restaurant, said Dutchie Caray, who recalled something her husband relished — perhaps even more than he would have relished a World Series title for the Cubs.

"He loved to be loved by the fans," Dutchie Caray said.

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