Remembering Sam Anson

By Budd Bailey

Sometimes a local media member can come into Buffalo, be a very public figure for many years, retire and move away, and more or less be forgotten. I’ve seen it happen a few times here over the years.

I’m not going to let that happen to Sam Anson, one of the great “bosses” in my life and one of the top broadcasters in Western New York for almost 40 years. Word came from the Charleston, South Carolina, area – where he had retired some years ago – that Sam died last week. The reaction of the network of people that worked with him was almost universally along the lines of “Awww … what a nice man.” Because he was.

Anson grew up in the Cleveland area, establishing a lifelong connection with the Indians/Guardians. I don’t know much about those years, although he did stay in Northern Ohio when he was done with school. He once told me a story about working at a job one fall day, in which he didn’t have much to do. It turned out that the CBS Golf Classic was taking place at Firestone Country Club in Akron, which was a four-ball match play event taped then to give snowed-in golfers something to watch in the winter.

Sam headed to the course to kill some time, and watched a match. The problem was that not many people would turn out to fill a gallery to see good but not great golfers on a Monday afternoon. In other words, the cameras focused on just about anyone on the course. Months later, the particular episode aired and Sam was shown in the gallery – probably more than once. Fast forward a few months, and his boss tuned in the CBS Golf Classic – and saw one of his workers at the course instead of on the job. After a scolding, maybe Sam figured he should try to find a job that paid him to watch sporting events.

In 1976, the local public broadcasting company decided to try an experiment in radio. It bought WEBR, 970 on your dial, and planned to turn it into an all-news station. Naturally, it needed a staff as well as time to organize the group. For whatever reason, the first two employees to arrive in Buffalo were the two full-time sports staff members: Sam and Pete Weber, who went on to a fine career that continues to this day with the Nashville Predators.

They had to be paid while waiting for jobs associated with the all-news format to start, so they were assigned to be disk jockeys. Sam and Pete spun middle-of-the-road tunes that offended no one but attracted no listeners. They were both feeling a bit embarrassed by it all, so they soon decided that they wouldn’t use their names on the air. One would end his air shift by saying something like “That Other Fellow is coming up next. This has been Yours Truly.”

Another time, Sam and Pete were told to go into the community and develop sources for information. A meeting was set up that summer with Lou Saban, the legendary coach of the Buffalo Bills. They explained that they were new workers at WEBR. Lou responded by saying, “You’re not going to change the bleeping format, are you?” The ever-quick Weber responded by saying, “No, Lou. We’re just going to get rid of all of the music.”

Eventually the new format reached the air, and Sam and Pete did a lot of broadcasting of events that didn’t exactly attract a wide audience. For example, they worked some home games of Buffalo State basketball. Such assignments clearly needed some spice. I believe that one time Sam said something like, “Say, Pete, isn’t that Shelby Lubeski, the noted basketball expert in the crowd? We should have him on at halftime.” (Shelby Whitfield and Dave Lubeski were anchors for Associated Press Radio Sports, which aired on WEBR.) I forget who played Shelby, but the interview subject changed his voice a bit to say more or less, “This might be the worst basketball game I’ve ever seen.” No one noticed.

Sam and Pete also could be straight-forward when they wanted to be. Their commentaries were so good in that initial year at WEBR that National Public Radio was interested in using them. However, local management decided that it would keep any outside broadcasting income done by its full-time employees, and not share the cash with the people who were doing the extra work. As you may have guessed, the idea died right there.

Sam deserved a bigger audience, but I don’t think he was ambitious enough to work hard enough to make that happen. Or ... maybe Sam simply wasn't as fanatical about sports as many of the others in the business. Perhaps he cared more about his family than he did about the Bills' backup long snapper. There's something to be said about a life in balance.  

After a year or so at WEBR, WGR called Sam and offered him a job in its sports department. It was doing the Sabres’ broadcasts, and could afford to pay more than a public station. With that, Sam headed down the street. He replaced Don Dussias, who was let go to make room for him. A few years later, Dussias returned as news director at WGR. It didn’t take him long to let Sam go in a fairly symmetrical turn of events. Once Bill Rosinki left as WEBR’s sports director, Sam came back to work at 23 North Street. He never left the company until his retirement.

I was on the scene at WEBR for his return, doing odd jobs and trying to learn the media business. Once in a great while, I was forced into duty as the morning sportscaster. I would get in at 5 a.m. and start preparing for the first sportscast of the day at 6:15. The problem for me was that Sam could show up at 6:05, grab some wire service material and take a quick glance at the newspaper, and go the air at 6:15. What’s more, he sounded much better than I ever could. It was a good thing Sam was always so nice, because it would have been easy to hate a guy that could be so effortless and effective on the air.

Every so often, Sam would come up with an idea worth remembering. One time he took the transcript of a Presidential news conference, and edited audio clips of President Reagan’s answers to that they would match up with sports-related questions. It worked perfectly. Even better, one of the questioners was Sam Donaldson of ABC. Every answer was edited to start with Reagan saying “Sam …” Come to think of it, I still remember another commentary called “The Secret Diaries of Jim Ringo.”

He also did some play-by-play of events that couldn’t attract a commercial station. It was a pleasure to work him on Bisons’ broadcasts, as he had actual conversations with me instead of hogging the airwaves. (Others weren’t so kind.) Sam was the Voice of the Buffalo Stallions indoor soccer team in what might have been its last season. That meant he took some odd road trips following the team, which bought the time on the station’s airwaves for the publicity value. Sam spent part of one plane trip trying to figure out how the shortest distance between Buffalo and Tacoma was through Atlanta. He decided the team saved $3 per ticket that way.

Off the air, Sam was beloved by everyone who worked with him. He was a mainstay of the WEBR “Revolving Doors” softball team (so named because of frequent changes in personnel at the station). Speaking of softball, Sam once played in a celebrity game involving hockey players in Niagara Falls, Ont. He called me at home to announce with pride that he had struck out “Bobby Bleeping Hull.” I believe there were adult beverages connected to both the strikeout and the phone call.

Then there was “The Well Open,” a golf event he organized at Bob-O-Links in Orchard Park for some years. Sam’s favorite expression was “Well …” He once told me that it could be useful in all circumstances – from expressing wonder and delight if said one way, to coming off as exasperated when said another. Therefore, a good shot or a bad shot always could draw a hearty “well…” from the participants. The golf was mediocre at best; the post-round party was terrific.

I moved on from WEBR – like so many others did over the years. The costs of running an all-news station eventually became too much for Public Broadcasting, and the noble “experiment” ended in 1993. But Sam stayed on for many more years, working as a newsman for a couple of decades or so and making the move downtown when the station became WNED-AM. Sam even interviewed me there for 30 minutes when I had appeared on “Jeopardy."

Then he retired early in 2015 or so and moved to South Carolina full-time. That’s where he and wife Bernice (a pretty good first baseman, by the way) had a retirement home. I never heard of him returning this area for a visit after that, although we did get him to take part in a Zoom call or two of WEBR alumni during the pandemic. He was a finalist once for the Buffalo Broadcasting Hall of Fame, but when I told him about it he simply said, “I’m no Hall of Famer.” I think he was wrong about that.

Sam was a solid professional and a fine person. He deserves to be remembered.

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