Snapshots of a legend: both on the lanes and off them, Earl Anthony lived the life of a champion - Obituary

THE TRAGIC, HARD-TO-BELIEVE news came the morning of August 14. Earl Anthony, the man with the perfect footwork, had fallen down a flight of steps and died. The accident occurred in Milwaukee, where Anthony was visiting a close friend, Ed Baur. They had planned to play golf that day.

Anthony may have been the greatest bowler who ever lived. Heated discussions about that will probably go on forever, and the guess here is that Anthony, as calm in the hereafter as he was on earth, will just sit and smile--if he bothers to tune in at all.

Anthony may be embarrassed a bit at the way he checked out. An autopsy indicated that the immediate cause of death was a head injury when he landed on the marble floor. Anthony was 63 and had some heart problems--enough to require surgery at the peak of his career--and some suspect that perhaps a momentary blackout caused the fall. Whatever, Earl Anthony will always stand tall among the men who knocked down tenpins for a living.

"He had it all," says Dick Weber, another contender for "the greatest" title. "Earl could score from every angle--first arrow, second, third, fourth, whatever it took. He was a dedicated person, willing to practice for hours at a time if he felt it was necessary."

Weber, who attended one of the three West Coast memorial services for Anthony, praises the big lefthander for his activities away from the lanes as well.

"After he retired from the PBA tour, Earl devoted a lot of time to helping the elderly in Dublin, Calif., where one of his two bowling centers is located," Weber says. "He drove a Red Cross truck that took people wherever they needed to go for medical treatment. And all through his career, he donated his time to appearing in promotional films for the American Bowling Congress."

But Anthony's accomplishments on the lanes are what most impress Weber and millions of others. Throughout the 1970s and into the early '80s. it seemed like Anthony was one of the five finalists on ABC-TV's Saturday afternoon show every week.

Anthony won 41 PBA championships and added to the richness of his accomplishments by finishing second 42 times. He won six PBA National titles and two PBA Tournament of Champions crowns. He won the ABC Masters twice, and after reaching age 50, Anthony picked up seven PBA Senior titles.

And he was always learning. Often his teachers--whether they knew it or not--were righthanders. One time we found him draped across a couple of bleacher seats watching some of the pros practicing, and none were southpaws.

"Busy, Earl?" we asked.

"No, just watching some of the guys."

"Thought you'd be studying some of the lefties."

Anthony grinned. "No, I usually learn more from the righthanders. They know more about changing angles and speeds and ways of releasing the ball because they wear out their side of the lanes fasten We lefties have to move around, too, sometimes ..."

Anthony, of course, had touched on a topic that bothers some tenpin fans when they discuss his position among the all-time greats. He and a relative handful of lefthanders on the tour sometimes dominated a particular tournament (i.e., in 1971 four of the five bowlers who qualified for the Tournament of Champions TV finals were lefties, with southpaw Johnny Petraglia winning the $25,000 top prize).

But if Anthony was somehow declared "Best Left-Handed Bowler in History," one wonders if his detractors would like to have one of their choices referred to as "Best Right-Handed Bowler in History." Not likely.

Anthony sometimes was the only lefty in contention for the title in the late rounds. We once asked him why.

"I guess it's because I can play a deeper angle when it is necessary than some other lefthanders," Earl replied. "The usual angle for a lefty is from somewhere near the left-hand corner of the approach. But for one reason or another, sometimes you have to move your position more toward the center and loop the ball out a little toward the gutter. Some lefthanders are uncomfortable doing that. I definitely practice with that kind of situation in mind, and that's where watching the righthanders comes in handy. They know all about switching angles."

That conversation took place in the mid-'70s, and we asked Anthony if he minded naming which bowlers he copied. "No, it's no secret," he said. "Barry Asher, Nelson Burton Jr., Dick Weber, Dave Soutar. [For example] I watch Soutar a lot because he's tall, about 6'3", and his arm-swing is longer. It's easier to spot a change when he makes it. Just little things, like adjusting the swing so you'll have more or less leverage, for instance. On some alleys you don't want to drive the pins so hard, so you have to find a way to ease up without hurting your timing."

Anthony, like many sports superstars, was always gracious in public, but sometimes he longed for a little peace and quiet. In 1976, when he was still living in Tacoma, Wash., with Marylou, his first wife and the mother of his two daughters and one son, he talked about the problem.

"I usually compete in a maximum of three consecutive tournaments, then take off a week to go home and try to get my head back in shape. But the phone rings off the hook, even though we have an unlisted number. People call me for every imaginable reason--to invite me to a banquet or give an exhibition, or just for advice about their own bowling!

"I've had guys call from New York to ask me what's wrong with their game. I try to explain that I can't help them without seeing them bowl. Most people don't know what their problem really is, so it's a waste of time to talk about it on the phone."

Stealing out to a restaurant was equally hazardous for the Anthonys. "We go out to dinner once in a while," Anthony said. "But I have trouble eating peacefully. I'm recognized more easily in Tacoma. People come over and want to talk about bowling."

It was baseball, not bowling, that first got Anthony fired up.

"I was in the Air Force for three years when I was first married," he recalled. "When I pitched a seven-inning no-hitter and a one-hitter on successive days, l caught the attention of some scouts from the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Baltimore Orioles. I hadn't thought about professional baseball until then and I was wishing I hadn't enlisted, because I still had two years to go.

"When I got out, Baltimore was still interested and they invited me to a minor league tryout camp. Afterward they wanted to sign me to a Triple-A contract with a $500 bonus, but I was 21 by then and we already had one child. It wasn't enough money to get me to start riding those buses, so I said no.

"When I got back to Tacoma, I got a job with a wholesale grocer, working the 10:30 p.m.-to-7 a.m. shift. I took up bowling because some of the employees were organizing a 9 a.m. league."

The majority of the star bowlers in that era had similarly humble beginnings. They set pins ill the days before automatics or did cleanup work at a bowling center, partly so they could bowl when the place wasn't busy.

Within three years, Anthony was averaging 200 and bowling in pot games from Friday evening until Saturday noon. "I shot 40 to 50 games in a row sometimes," he said. "Once in a while, we'd even come back Sunday night and bowl some more. I had a callus on my thumb that looked like an egg, because I really turned the ball then."

In 1963, Anthony joined the PBA. It was too soon. He competed in three tournaments in the Northwest, didn't earn a dollar, and dropped out. He never lost his desire to give the pro tour another try, however, and in 1969 he rejoined the PBA. Marylou persuaded him to get a sponsor before he hit the road. The backer agreed to pay Earl's expenses and provide a weekly sum for Marylou and their three children. In return, Anthony would share his prize money with his sponsor.

Success came incredibly quick this time. In Wichita, which was to host the first of 1970's nationally televised meets, Anthony led the qualifying. He hurried to phone Marylou to tell her he would be on TV the next afternoon and that he was assured of finishing no worse than second.

"You know what my wife's first words were?" Anthony asked. "She said. `Are you mad at me?' I couldn't figure out what she meant. But she was thinking about how she had talked me into getting a sponsor, and that now we'd have to share my prize with him. Of course I wasn't mad."

Anthony lost to fellow lefthander Skee Foremsky in the final, 217-209, but still won $3,500. Anthony was second in one other televised tournament that winter and was third on two occasions. In the first of the summer meets, in Seattle. Anthony won his first PBA championship.

"A week later, in Portland, Ore., I was second." Anthony said. "And that was it."

What he meant was that the magic left him after Portland and he didn't win much of anything the rest of the year. During that drought, he acknowledged, his wife's insistence on a sponsor didn't look like such a bad deal after all.

In 1971, though, the lefty with the crew cut was first in New York. The following year he won in Portland. Ore., Redwood City, Calif., St. Louis, and Seattle, and the Anthony legend began to take form. Already, however, Anthony, who was 35. was planning for the time when the pins would not be falling for him so easily.

"After I won two titles in the summer, I skipped the next seven tournaments to help get a real estate business started." he said. "From mid-July until September I didn't go into a bowling alley, except to bowl in a league."

In November, however, Anthony had regained enough sharpness to shoot a 300 in the semifinal game in St. Louis and outscore Don McCune in the final, 238-217. winning $6,000.

Anthony and the rest of the top pros used to come to my home base in St. Louis regularly, so we picked up some good stories from the man from Tacoma. In '81. for instance, when the $110,000 Rolaids Open was held at Dick Weber's lanes. Earl suffered a muscle injury in his semifinal TV match with Paul Moser.

"I pulled something in my left side in the second frame." Earl said later. "The ball was a strike and it gave me a double. but I was scared. I'll admit."

Anthony got a spare in the third frame, but then left the 7-10 split. PBA tournament director Harry Golden. sensing that something was wrong, asked Anthony if he would have to withdraw.

"They'll have to carry me out of here in a basket before I'll withdraw!" Anthony whispered. He then poured in eight strikes for a 254-191 win.

Then came an unexpected move by Anthony. Instead of resting his back between games, he moved to a lane adjoining the TV pair and continued to bowl while his next foe. Mark Roth, warned up.

"My back wasn't hurting much by then," Earl explained, "but I was afraid it would stiffen if I sat still very long. Nobody wants to bowl Mark Roth with a stiff back!" Anthony defeated Roth, 227-182.

Again, Earl kept rolling balls on the adjoining lane during the break while righthander Tom Baker loosened up. In the title duel, Anthony scored a 218-202 victory for his 33rd PBA crown.

After accepting his trophy. Anthony said that he had cancelled his plans for semi-retirement. He had bowled in just 18 tournaments in 1980 and predicted that this would be his pattern in future years.

"The bowling center in Dublin needed my attention for a while." he explained. "But I have a good staff now and they don't need me around. I'll enter about 30 tournaments each year for a while."

But in 1983 Anthony had one more surprise announcement, startling the bowling world.

"I am leaving the PBA tour." Anthony announced. "I'm tired of the tournament grind and the travel. I'm not tapering off. I'm quitting. I'll bowl in the ABC Masters next spring so I can become eligible for the ABC Hall of Fame, but that's it."

The shock of the announcement by the 45-year-old superstar reached beyond the world of tenpins because Anthony was one of those names known to virtually anyone in athletics. When he revealed his plans from his home in Dublin, Calif., some 40 miles east of San Francisco, he was far ahead in the year's money race, earning $135,000 in 20 tournaments. He had captured the PBA National for the sixth time and picked up a regular tour title. Sports people could not recall an athlete quitting while more at the top of his earning power.

Anthony and wife Marylou had divorced several years earlier and Earl had remarried. Later on, in a discussion of his decision to quit, Anthony described what he called a weekend that was too nearly typical.

"I had lost out in the final televised match to Dave Husted because I blew a 7-pin and Dave came back with three strikes." Anthony said. "I didn't have time to sulk because my wife Susie and I had to be in St. Louis, 800 miles away, by the next afternoon, and we were driving."

Anthony and Susie headed their mobile home toward Missouri less than an hour after the trophy presentation in Houston.

"The meet in St. Louis wasn't going to start until Tuesday, but I had to be in Toledo on Monday for a special appearance," Anthony continued. "We drove all night, but that wasn't too bad because Susie shared the driving. We arrived at the bowling lanes in St. Louis about 2 o'clock Sunday afternoon, but we spent the rest of the day looking for a place to hook up. Several people offered us hook-ups, but finding a level spot was the tough part. If it isn't level, the refrigerator won't work right."

Anthony flew to Toledo on Monday, but snowstorms fouled up the airline schedule and he didn't get back to St. Louis until noon Tuesday. Gracious as ever, he competed in the pro-am that night and moved into tournament play on Wednesday.

Anthony was the first bowler to earn a million dollars in tournament prize money, but he wasn't overly impressed by that achievement.

"Someday," he said. "I'll be sitting by the TV watching some kid going for his 35th million and nobody will remember who was the first to win one million."

Maybe Earl had visions of such a big-money era approaching when he decided in late 1986 to emerge from his self-imposed rest and try the tour again. The retirement breaker? The Seagram's Cooler United States Open in January 1987. It was an offer that even Earl Anthony couldn't refuse.

The years of inactivity had taken their toll, however, and at 48, Anthony couldn't score like the old days. Del Ballard Jr. won the $100,000 first prize and Anthony was not among the 60 bowlers who cashed. In 11 meets in 1987, Earl won just $8,850.

"In every tournament I could hit the pocket," Anthony explained, "but I couldn't carry the corner pins. I no longer could make the small adjustments that would bring the ball into the pocket at the right angle. The layoff caused me to lose some of my sharpness--and I couldn't make myself practice as I did before."

He denied that he had ever planned to return to the PBA tour full time. "But once I started, there were pressures to appear in more," he said. "Old friends who were promoting tournaments urged me to enter in order to boost sales, and I couldn't turn them down."

For a while after that, Anthony devoted most of his time to making appearances for two companies he'd been with for a long time, Ebonite and U.S. Polychem, with sizable amounts of time set aside for golf. Anthony, who was a righty golfer, trimmed his handicap from 12 to nearly zero after leaving the tour.

He tried the PBA Senior tour for a while, and won seven tournaments. But the infrequency of the seniors' meets annoyed Anthony, and he lost interest.

Earl and Susie completed their "dream house" in Cornelius, Ore., in 1988--"Five acres, surrounded by fir trees, with a fence to keep the deer from eating my garden"--and living there, with occasional journeys into the outside world for business or pleasure, appeared to be their plan.

Now Earl is gone. The memories of the gentleman sharpshooter will live on, though, in small anecdotes like this one from the 1974 Firestone, when Anthony was bowling Roy Buckley in a semifinal match.

During a TV commercial break, Anthony went to the cooler for a cup of water, then noticed that the fiancee of a friend, oblivious of the tense situation, was signaling that she too was thirsty. Earl smiled, filled another cup, passed it back to her, and then completed his disposal of Buckley.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Century Publishing
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group