Max Falkenstien chats with a friend at an autograph signing in 2006. Falkenstien has remained involved with the Athletics Department, and he still appears at men's basketball home games.
KANSAN FILE PHOTO
No matter where the road took Max, he always found his way home to his wife, Isobel. The couple has two children, three grandchildren and one greatgrandchild. Max said life on the road was not taxing on his family matters.
The great-grandfather said he traveled for four or five football games a year and about 15 road basketball games.
He said he always looked forward to going home, but enjoyed sightseeing along the way.
60 YEARS OF LOVE
Max's Midwestern charm has attracted many admirers in his 60-year tenure.
Kansas Athletics Director Lew Perkins said. "Max is just history."
Williams said. "There are few Max Falkenstiens. No one will ever touch 60 again."
Smith said, "All you can do is praise it. He shouldn't retire."
Fans he encounters on gameday let him know how they feel about him.
Perkins said, "He is one of the most beloved people in Kansas history."
So beloved, in fact, the Topeka Zoo once named a gorilla "Max the Gorilla" after the announcer.
Max even went with a zoo crew to
Dallas to pick up the zoo's new baby gorilla, cradling him in his arms like an infant on the flight home to Topeka.
LEGEND OF THE PHOG
Max shies away from the word "legend," which his friends throw at him like passes quarterbacks have thrown to receivers in the games he's called for six decades.
"Legend is a hard word to know what it means," he said. "I don't know if it goes to someone who's been around so damn long, or if they just enjoyed the work they've done."
One longtime listener, Earl Merkel, 73, travels from Russell to Lawrence for each home game. Merkel
has listened to Max since the late 1940s. For away games, Merkel turns down the television and tunes in to his favorite radio broadcaster for sideline analysis. He said he had enjoyed Max every year for six decades.
Everyone in the state knows him by
his first name, Merkel said.
"Legend is a hard word to know what it means."
"Everyone realizes he's a warehouse of athletics knowledge," he said.
Hank Booth, the public address announcer at men's basketball games, said he had known Max since he was a child and also had listened to Max for decades.
"He's a legendary Kansas broadcaster," said Booth, whose family was influential in the development of radio in Lawrence.
MAX FALKENSTIEN Former radio broadcaster
SIGNING OFF
In an arena where fans stand on their toes to watch long, lanky players enter the court — many near 7 feet tall — a 5-foot-8 man with snowy white hair, a blue sweater and
khakis keeps his own trail of admirers.
As Max makes his way to the sideline, students young enough to be his great-grandchildren stand up for Max, like one blue wave, sparked by the broadcaster's splash. He is the only 81-year-old who receives a standing
ovation every time he steps on the court.
Max will make that walk one last time in the fieldhouse on Wednesday. When he leaves, he will take his signature broadcast delivery with him. Radio speakers will no longer carry his balanced analysis and lively, articulate, baritone voice.
He calls his 60th season a "good place to stop."
Where will Max go after the last buzzer sounds? If he had his choice of all the places he has called away games, he'd head for Hawaii.
"Maui's my favorite, hands down," he said.
He appreciated the history of Madison Square Garden and said, laughing, "The Alaska shootout was interesting, but I don't recommend anyone take a trip there for Thanksgiving."
Max will not disappear completely from the Jayhawk nation. He will join the Athletics Department after retiring from broadcasting, working directly for Perkins on special assignments.
But Jayhawk fans need not worry. The man they've known simply as Max for 60 years will not disappear into the phog.
"I'll be around," he said.
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THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN