CHICK HEARN DIES AT 85 BUT HE'S AN ... ETERNAL VOICE.

Byline: Howard Beck Staff Writer

Chick Hearn, whose distinctive voice and incomparable style provided the melodic soundtrack to four decades of Lakers basketball, died early Monday evening, three days after suffering a severe head injury in a fall at his Encino home.

The Hall-of-Fame broadcaster, one of Los Angeles' most beloved personalities, was 85.

Hearn's passing, at about 6:30 p.m., ended a 72-hour watch by family, friends and fans, who had hoped and prayed for his recovery. But Hearn, who needed two surgeries to relieve hemorrhaging, had sustained what doctors termed an ``irreversible injury'' to his brain stem and never regained consciousness.

``If you're a Laker fan, a basketball fan, an NBA fan or a sports fan in general, or you happened to bump into Chick on the street or after the game at Staples Center or the Forum, and after talking to him and listening to him, you know today that this is not a good day for Laker fans,'' Lakers general manager Mitch Kupchak said at a press briefing at Northridge Hospital Medical Center, about 40 minutes after Hearn died.

``Chick, we'll miss you dearly,'' Kupchak said, choking up. ``Quite simply, you're the best.''

The announcement was emotional for everyone, though not unexpected. Hearn had been in critical condition since arriving at the hospital Friday, and though he was stable after surgery, doctors offered little optimism.

By early Monday morning, his condition had deteriorated, and Dr. Asher Taban described Hearn's status as ``beyond critical.'' Late Monday afternoon, a do-not-resuscitate order was given.

``There's never going to be another Chick Hearn,'' said Lakers legend Magic Johnson. ``He's a man who will be remembered long after.''

Hearn's wife, Marge, and granddaughter, Shannon, were at his side until the end. Kupchak, Lakers executive vice president Jeanie Buss, team spokesman Bob Steiner and Clippers general manager Elgin Baylor were at the hospital to offer support.

Owner Jerry Buss is on vacation in England, but delivered a statement through Steiner.

``It is impossible to express the depths of our sorrow,'' Buss said. ``What Chick meant to the Lakers and the popularity of NBA basketball in Los Angeles can never be underestimated. His 'words-eye view' is as responsible for this success as any of the great players who have worn the Laker uniform. We will be forever grateful to him.''

Funeral and memorial services are in the planning stages.

More than a play-by-play announcer - and he's widely regarded as the greatest in basketball history - Hearn was the team's conscience, and in many respects the soul of the organization, the only person who bridged every Lakers generation, from 1961 to the present.

His Lakers career began when the franchise relocated to Los Angeles from Minneapolis, and Hearn's words became the lyrics to every significant event thereafter.

The heartbreaks against the Boston Celtics in the 1960s.

Wilt Chamberlain's arrival in 1968.

The first L.A.-era championship in 1972.

The arrival of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in 1975, Magic Johnson in 1979 and the five championships that followed in the 1980s.

Hearn brought the ``Showtime'' era to life, gritted his teeth through the Lakers' decline in the early 1990s, comforted Johnson when he contracted HIV in 1991. And he ebulliently described every second of the Lakers' resurgence as Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant led the Lakers to the past three NBA championships.

``I'll never forget all those times when I needed a hug, when I needed a high five, he told me, 'It's going to be all right,''' said Johnson.

``The city of Los Angeles has lost an incredible icon,'' said former Lakers great Jerry West, now president of the Memphis Grizzlies. ``He was a real joy to be around as a person. He certainly helped me appear to be bigger than life. More importantly, he was a true, great friend. I will miss him.''

As the day wore on, and the city anxiously awaited updates on Hearn's condition, fans began a vigil outside the hospital. They came in waves, bringing flowers and cards and hope.

By early evening, about 50 fans had gathered. Nearby was a cardboard box, fashioned into a makeshift sign with a simple sentiment scrawled across it: ``Chick, we love you. Hang in there.''

``I was born and raised here. It's just haunting to think I'm not going to be able to hear his voice anymore,'' said Michael Bernacki of Granada Hills. ``We look at these guys as immortal, and that they're going to be here forever. This makes you step back and appreciate what you had.''

Emotions were strong, too, as dozens of fans called local sports talk radio shows to express their sorrow. More so, however, they called to express their appreciation for a man who brought a special flair and unbridled passion to his job.

``He certainly set a standard for this organization, and we will continue on in that tradition,'' Jeanie Buss said later, by phone. ``I'm a long way from a realization of what it will be like without him. ... Chick is part of our family, and so it was a personal thing today.''

Hearn is credited for inventing most of the basketball lingo now taken for granted: ``slam dunk,'' ``no harm, no foul,'' ``finger roll'' and ``air ball,'' among them. His extensive volume of catch-phrases composed what Hearn called his ``words-eye view'' of the game.

Although an L.A. icon equal in stature to many of the players whose games he called, Hearn was forever humble. Fans happily recounted tales Monday of the time he winked at them during a game, or shook their hand as they passed his broadcast perch at the Forum. He was always available for an autograph, a photo, a smile.

Just last week, Hearn drove himself and Marge to Las Vegas to lend his services to a fantasy basketball camp. Hearn did play-by-play for the games, and every camper got a tape to bring home - ``the highlight of the camp for many of them,'' according to Lakers assistant coach Kurt Rambis, who worked the event.

The year had been a difficult one for Hearn. He needed open-heart surgery to replace a faulty valve in December, ending his unparalleled streak of 3,338 consecutive games called. While recovering from the heart surgery, Hearn fell and broke his hip. Unbowed, the NBA's broadcasting iron man returned by the end of the season and called every game of their run to the 2002 championship.

``To me, that was the ultimate,'' said Lakers scouting director Bill Bertka, who has been with the organization since the 1960s. ``For Chick, it was like Ted Williams or whatever great performance. He stepped up to the plate last year in true Chick fashion and finished out.''

Bertka and Hearn are close in age, and spent countless hours over the past 40 years socializing on planes, buses and in hotel bars.

``He's one of the most fun human beings in the world,'' said Bertka. ``Also, one of the great soup experts. Every town we went to, he used to rate the soup, where could you get the best soup. That was one of our bonds in life.''

Hearn was famously generous and kind with everyone he encountered, and loyal to those he knew best. When he returned from Las Vegas last week, he was stunned to learn that Lakers publicist John Black was still in the hospital, recovering from his own heart-valve surgery.

``He was concerned about me and calling to check and see how I was,'' Black said. ``He sounded happy, sounded great.''

Stubbornly independent, Hearn thought nothing of driving himself to Vegas. Or moving a planter in his back yard - the action that caused him to fall and hit his head Friday.

``You and I might think, What is he doing? But Chick wouldn't think that way,'' Black said. ``He thinks nothing of grabbing the keys off the table, jumping in the car and going. His age meant nothing to him. He didn't feel he was diminished in any way, either from his age or his previous two surgeries.''

In an era where many broadcasters are little more than boosters with microphones, Hearn was unfailingly and unapologetically honest. He was the Lakers' greatest fan when their play was worthy of his praise. But when their effort ebbed, Hearn was their harshest, and most creative, critic.

No player, regardless of stature, escaped his sharp tongue. Over the years, he called out O'Neal for missing free throws and Johnson for failing to make plays.

On the day of his 3,000th consecutive broadcast in 1998, the team feted Hearn at halftime. But the Lakers had just played a lousy first half, and Hearn, handed a microphone at center court, jumped on them with zeal.

``Let's go, Lakers! You're playing like dogs,'' he bellowed, cheered on by 17,505 fans at the Great Western Forum. ``If you play in the third quarter like you did in the first half, I'm going to bring you some Alpo.''

That ``Let's go, Lakers!'' exhortation was also a Hearn trademark, a phrase he would impatiently bark as he ambled through the Lakers' locker room after a road game. Ever punctual, Hearn was usually the first one on the team bus and the team plane, eager to get rolling toward the next city, the next arena, the next game.

Staff Writers Ryan Oliver and James Nash contributed to this story.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo:

(1 -- color) Lakers broadcaster Chick Hearn acknowledges the fans during a standing ovation after returning to the booth April 9 to call a Lakers game after a nearly four-month absence.

Kevork Djansezian/Associated Press

(2) Former Lakers great Elgin Baylor wipes away tears outside Northridge Hospital Medical Center at the announcement of Chick Hearn's death Monday.

Gene Blevins/Special to the Daily News