Addresses Change, the Voice Remains

Most kids have the usual idols, such as astronauts and cowboys and center fielders.

Well, meet one (me) who was caught up in the mystique of a public address announcer.

If you grew up in Orange County listening to sports on radio, there was no mistaking the booming baritone of John Ramsey, the sultan of sound. He wasn’t just a PA announcer in town, mind you, he was the PA announcer.

There was a time in his career when he was the voice of the Lakers, Kings, Dodgers, Rams and USC football--all at the same time.

A few times a year he would work what he called the five-day weekend, announcing a Laker game Friday night, a Trojan game on Saturday, the Kings on Saturday night, the Rams on Sunday and the Lakers again that night.

That’s what I call hitting for the circuit. If they had trading cards for PA announcers, I wouldn’t sell you my John Ramsey for a hundred bucks. So as I spent my share of kid time at the batting cages perfecting the swing of ex-Angels such as Rudy Meoli, so did I secretly desire to live the life of Ramsey.

He was the man with the voice we all knew and the face we had never seen.

My friends and I would spend hours studying his vocal inflections in preparation for John Ramsey derbies.

You’d prepare by rolling up a game program and locking yourself in the bathroom, the only place where you could effectively re-create the echoes of a ball park.

You’d then take your voice down a few octaves and imagine you had gravel in you throat.

After careful preparation, you’d place the rolled program to your lips and give it your best Ramsey.

“Remember (remember, remember), ladies and gentlemen (gentlemen, gentlemen), 55 miles per hour is the speed limit (limit, limit). Please drive safely on your way home (home, home.) The Dodgers and Giants thank you.”

Or: “Would you all please rise (rise, rise) and honor America in the singing of our national anthem.”

I wanted to meet Ramsey as much as I did Willie Mays.

In 1981, when Ramsey was working for the Angels, I was eating in the press dining room at Anaheim Stadium. As I stuck my fork into what the cook was calling Salisbury steak, I heard the unmistakable voice from the next table.

“Ross,” the voice said, “would you please pass the salt and pepper?”

I whipped my head around. It had to be him! Who else could ask for salt with an echo?

I was too nervous to approach him. I mean, do you actually go up to him and say, “I really like the way you introduce Steve Garvey.”

It would be two years before I would meet Ramsey. I got goose bumps.

Today he will, as always, be at the microphone for the Rams’ game against Tampa Bay in Anaheim Stadium.

He’s been the Rams’ PA announcer since 1969, but this is a day when he almost didn’t make it.

Ramsey, 59, has spent the last week in the hospital recovering for a diabetic reaction that had caused impaired vision. But he checked out Friday in time to call Saturday night’s USC-Oregon game in the Coliseum.

That’s the stuff of heroes.

Ramsey got started in 1945 when he first announced games on his Navy base in Norfolk, Va.

He was announcer at El Camino College in the 1950s, but really hit it big near the end of the decade. Ramsey was the Dodgers’ PA man from 1958 to 1982, the Lakers’ from 1960 through 1979, the Kings’ from 1967 through 1979. He did the Angels for three years in the 1960s and then again from 1979 to 1984. He’s done USC football since 1971 and L.A. Raiders in 1982, ’83 and ’84.

Ramsey must love his work, for there isn’t much money in PA announcing. You don’t make a living from it. For the past 10 years, he’s worked days at a Cerritos travel agency.

These days, Ramsey does only the Rams and USC football. In recent years, other teams have chosen not to use his talents.

The Angels, in releasing Ramsey in 1984, told him they were looking for a “younger” voice, yet found they could still employ an organist who plays hits from the Roaring ‘20s.

“It gave me a feeling like, ‘Yeah, I’m passe,’ ” Ramsey said. “But nobody ever wrote a card that said they missed me.”

To me, though, Ramsey’s still the best. His style is powerful and simple. And, best of all, he doesn’t root for the home team.

I still dream about the day that Ramsey gets stuck in traffic on his way to a Rams game. While the Rams are scrambling to find a replacement, I roll up a program, gargle some gravel and sneak into the booth.

And no one notices the difference.