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Move back from that screen! You’ll go blind!
Yesterday I began writing what I thought would be this week’s episode. I was about a thousand words in when I realized that the horrors of the nightly news, the recent loss of so many old friends and the aches and pains of a rainy gray day had led me into a pretty dark place. One day I will burden you with that writing…but not this day.
Growing up in the 1950’s and 1960’s was, Mrs. Gump, different. (see Forrest Gump. No really, If you haven’t, see Forrest Gump!) Television was in its infancy. The image that wobbled its way into our home would appear on a roundish 18-inch screen in what was called black and white but was more like 20 shades of gray. Depending on the direction the antenna was pointing, the picture was more or less stable with the occasional line rolling up the screen as the image was refreshed.
On a fairly regular basis the whole picture would do a continuous roll like the paper in a player piano. Those of us who were savvy to technology knew the solution to that problem. There were two control knobs labeled “Horizontal Hold” and Vertical Hold”. By fiddling with these knobs, the picture would eventually stop rolling and settle in place.
1n 1950, the family’s first television set was a table top model costing around $150. A television was a luxury when the annual family income averaged under $3,500. Luckily, most stores had adopted a buy-now pay-forever plan. With the new TV came the fabled “rabbit ear” antennas. Two chrome plated metal telescoping antennae came together in a bakelite base which sat on top of the set and held wires which connected to the TV with screws. These antenna could be set at a variety of angles to best capture the television signal. ( I always wondered why I couldn’t feel that signal beam since it was running right through our house and probably through me.)
When moving the antennas to every conceivable angle didn’t improve reception, a valued accessory could be procured at the local A&P grocery store. Aluminum foil, that pan protecting, turkey wrapping kitchen helper was the secret ingredient for a better picture. A good-sized square of Reynolds Wrap crumpled over the end of each antenna would often save the day.
The TV was Dad’s domain… “He’s the one who brought the damned thing into the house”) Once our Dad was satisfied with the antenna position (my job), a good whomp on the side would usually complete the fine tuning. Only then could we watch a variety of programming from A to B.
In the early 1950’s, there were two VHF stations nearby. UHF was still a few years away. Charlotte had channel 3 and just a little later, channel 9. Until about 8:00 am, the only thing on either channel was the test pattern. This was a bull’s eye pattern often with a graphic of an American Indian in full headdress superimposed. The headdress was, I think, used so that the station could demonstrate how not so fuzzy the picture was.
The local studios produced cooking and news shows along with some children’s programming. Betty Feezor was the housewife laureate of the Charlotte viewing area. At the very mention of “Betty Feezor said…” even the best cooks would perk up to listen.
I wasn’t interested in whether Betty could cook or even sew a hem. I lived for Saturday mornings when network cartoons and kid shows ruled the airways, both airways. Every kid wanted to sit in the Peanut Gallery of the Howdy Doodie Show. Primitive by even yesterday’s standards, Howdy was a marionette and there was no attempt to hide the strings. The same was true of my favorite, Phineas T. Bluster, the old curmudgeon. I was always a little too dark for the goofy squeeky clean Howdy Doody. The show was hosted by Buffalo Bob Smith in a fringed almost western outfit and co-hosted by Clarabell the Clown. I can’t explain why there was a clown on a western themed show but, later, in 1955, Clarabell, (Bob Keeshan) traded in his greasepaint to became Captain Kangaroo.
In those days cowboy good guys like Hopalong Cassady, Roy Rogers and the Lone Ranger corralled even the baddest outlaws with a “Stick-‘em up” or, at worst, by shooting the gun out of their hands with nary a scratch. William Boyd, as Hopalong (a cowboy with a gunshot inflicted limp) always had a lesson to teach at the end of the show and even in the roughest saloon, would order a sarsaparilla, a soft drink like root beer. Red Skelton, another TV star of the time once parodied Hopalong in a skit where he entered a saloon and ordered a sarsaparilla. When the rough-looking cowboys glared, he continued, “and pour it in a dirty glass.” My Dad loved that scene.
Our own cowboy hero from Charlotte’s first station, WBTV, was Fred Kirby who with his sidekick Uncle Jim, would entertain us with “Little Rascals” comedies. We all knew Alfalfa and Spanky and Buckwheat and Darla. My father, who had a quip for everything, always loved to say, “Wake me up when Alfalfa sings!”
Fred was a singing cowboy and had his own gallery of kids to provide back-up to his songs. All of us knew the words to “Big Rock Candy Mountain” and to “Atomic Power” which must have been written by Fred. Later on, in 1957, when Tweetsie Railroad became an attraction, Fred was all-in. Not only did he add the song, “Pretty little Tweetsie, to his repertoire, but to use the cowboy term, Fred was in cahoots with Tweetsie Railroad. On the weekends, a ride on the train promised an attack by desperados who were chased away by Fred Kirby and his blazing six shooters.
When my sister came along I was still young enough to watch Captain Kangaroo with her and wait for the moment, it always came, when the unimaginatively named trickster “Bunny Rabbit” would call down a cascade of ping pong balls on the hapless Captain and Mister Moose. I loved the times the local farmer, Mr. Greenjeans, brought in unusual animals but, (and I have researched this by asking a couple of people) Grandfather Clock was a little on the spooky/creepy side.
Connie, and my wife were great fans of local celebrity Brooks Lindsey in his role as Joey the Clown. I never quite caught on but confess to being amazed when he made a “Joey Tree” by tearing a rolled newspaper and stretching it out made what resembled a palm tree. I tried over and again but only succeeded in making a mess.
Don’t touch that dial, I could go on…and probably will in another episode. There is plenty of entertainment gold to mine in early television. I was a proud member of the first television generation. Our parents pioneered the phrase, “Get away from that screen and go out and play!”
We were also the first to witness world events as they happened. Television dragged us out of our rural isolation. Our age of innocence would end. I am sure that some of my stories seem like fairy tales to my younger readers who think I am spreading more manure than truth and I confess that at my age I see the world through rose-colored eyes. (If bloodshot can be considered rose-colored)
I am presenting the world as I saw it at the time. As an adult, I know there was cruelty and war and discrimination and violence in the midst of the good memories. We live an electronic era where children know too much too soon. There was a time when we could play on the sand and splash our feet in the surf without knowing the fury of our ocean world. With these stories, I try, for a few brief minutes, to revisit that peaceful shore.
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