Author: elcheato1@aol.com

Weather or Not

Finally there have been some further historic and vitally important releases coming from the Taurus Foemus Institute of Bologna, Italy.  These findings which will be published here, will not be available anywhere else in the known universe of information, or even on the internet.   The topic is, as we say in the world of science, quite topical.  Everyone is always talking about the weather, from global warming to climate change to why are the weathermen wrong so much.  We do not have the answers to any of those questions, but more to the history of weather science and weather forecasting.  

A long time ago, back in the medieval times, weather was still a very inexact science, even more than it is today, if that’s possible.  One of the early pioneers of weather forecasting was a little known researcher from a small town ion Heissehaus in the northwest part of what is now modern Germany.  His name was Johann Sebastian Funk.  He was always looking for a way to earn a few coins to support himself and his family.  One day, while lazing in his bunk prior to performing his morning ablutions, an idea came to him about the weather.  He thought, wouldn’t it be important to the big shots in the area to know what the weather was going to be tomorrow?  There were many armies marching back and forth in the land, as they were in the midst of the 30 years war.  It seemed like somebody was always fighting someone.  If he could let the local prince know the coming weather, maybe it would help them defeat their enemies.

JS, as he was known to his friends, quickly came up with a plan.  He got a cart and filled it with lumber and brought a couple of his sons with him and rode out over a half a days journey to the west.  He found a suitable hillside and began to build a tower.  When it was completed, he left his oldest son Johann Sebastian Funk II, or the Deuce, to stay with this tower.  Then he drove out about another half days journey to the west and erected another tower.  Here he left his trusted assistant Kenny Offenbach, to stay at this tower.  Here was the plan:  When Kenny saw a storm coming, he was to ride his horse as quickly as possible to the first tower and give the details to the Deuce, and then the son would ride swiftly to town to tell JS about the oncoming storm.  The first chance to try the system came in a couple days.  When JS got the report, he quickly rode to the castle of the local prince and requested an audience.  He told the prince that by tomorrow morning it would be pouring rain here in town.  The prince thought that JS was daft and had him put in the stocks overnight.  But, the next morning, when the rains did come down in buckets, the prince was impressed and began to plot with JS to put this information to use.  

The local prince, Prince Schlaumeir by name, was in the midst of an ongoing war with a neighboring duke.  The duke usually had the advantage over the prince because the duke had a large amount of horsemen who were able to defeat the slow moving infantry of the prince.  But if the prince knew that there would be a day of drenching rain, the duke’s horses would not be able to navigate the mud as well as the foot soldiers of the prince, who would be wearing their mud boots.  So, once he got the word of a downpour coming the next day, he set his men on a forced march to the lands of the duke and indicated that he would be attacking the duke.  The duke called out all his horsemen the next morning to parry the charge.  Just as they were about to take the field, the rains came in buckets, the horses floundered and the prince had a resounding victory over his enemy.  With this secret weapon Prince Schlaumeir believed that he would get a roll of conquests and finish off this 30 years war in maybe 15 years.  

Things went well for a few months for the prince and for J S Funk.  One fine day JS told the prince that he could send his troops out on the morrow wearing their light gear, with just their short fighting pants, tennis shoes and their caps with the flaps up, even though it was late November.  Unfortunately for the prince and even more so for JS, a freak winter storm came out of the north and freezing sleet, which turned to snow sent the army of the prince into a slushy and bloody defeat by a better prepared army.  JS had to flee the realm, with a price on his head and the prince soon became very small potatoes.

The next notable weather event came about twenty years later.  Another German, pseudo-scientist by name of Adalbert Sonnenschien.  He was a local farmer of renowned wisdom.  He seemed to have a knack for being able to reasonably predict the weather for the local kleinbauers or farmers.  He developed the first regular weather scale.  Adalbert had a sliding scale that he would announce in the morning as the locals gathered to have their cup of swill before going out to the fields.  The weather forecast would be:  Very hot, hot, warm, not too hot, not too cold, cool, cooler, cold, colder than a  coal miners underwear.   Interspersed with these words, he would add in, possibility of rain, or snow or ice, depending on the situation.  It was just about like the weather forecasts of today, without a number or temperature thrown in there.  This scale was acceptable to the local kleinbauers for a while, but eventually they and others wanted a better gauge of the weather.

So just after this, onto the scene arrived the German scientist Fahrenheit.  He was always trying to find a better way to measure the temperature of things, from water to the weather.  He eventually came up with a system to show the temperatures with 32 degrees being when water would freeze.  Unfortunately, just when he started to make money with his thermometers and Fahrenheit dolls, teddy bears and Fahrenheit souvenir beer mugs, another lug up in Sweden came up with a different gauge of temperatures.  This was Celsius.  His scale showed zero for when water would freeze.  This system quickly took off, due in part to a great advertising campaign by his sponsor a guy by the name of Baron Quasimodo Centigrade.  He had them name the scale after himself., as Celsius had passed away.   So it was Fahrenheit and Centigrade until in mid 20th century,  Celsius’ advocates finally had the scale named for Celsius again.  

The United States and a few other enlightened countries still use the Fahrenheit system in resistance to Celsius and the likely requirement to convert to the metric system for everything else.  There is much more available in the translations of the research, but this is an easy synopsis for our usual readership who can use this for discussion topics with the various tosspots at the local tavern.

copyright 2019

The Big Catch

Due to diminishing demand, we once again will present another chapter in the exciting events and adventures from the late 1950s.  We are expected to receive the newest dispatch of research from the TFI,BI sometime in the next week or so.  Until then, we have this to ruminate on.

Back in the black and white days in southwest Detroit, there were many activities that might command the attention of young kids looking for something to do.  In the warmer months, you might participate in a game of pick up baseball in the schoolyard.  Since this was in an era of many non-politically correct attractions, there could be brewing a game of “guns”.  This could be cowboys versus indians, or cowboys versus cowboys, world war two era military action, or even Korean War.  If there were at least five or six available people, you would split up into teams, the first group would hide, usually down one of the alleys, and the other team would then go in search to find them and wipe them out.  If a team was good, they would be hid in places where they could ambush or attack the searchers, before they would be found.  One of the best ever, was the time one imaginative  kid hid inside a concrete garbage dumpster and ambushed a whole team of surprised cowboys.  Everyone strove to see if they could make the best noise when they fired their guns.  There were rules of course.  If you only had a pistol, you couldn’t shoot it like a machine gun.  Also, usually there was no shooting through bushes or fences.  (As an aside, as far as I know, not one of the young lads that participated in our games, ever was convicted of killing anyone with a gun or weapon, then or later in life.)

The events of this story were not any of the activities above.  I believe this adventure took place on a sunny Saturday in May, in the later 1950s.  We all loved to go fishing whenever we could.  We would ask parents or older siblings who could drive, to take us to a river or lake so we could catch some fish.  It was not a usual city activity.  Most of the parents were too busy with work and other responsibilities to take us, so we leaned on the older brothers.  One of my older cousins did take us one time, but I think it was just a sympathy thing.  Maybe he had been to confession and the priest told them to take the little kids fishing as his penance.  So usually, we were faced with making the trek down to the Boulevard Docks at the Detroit River.  This was about twelve city blocks or more from our area.  West Grand Boulevard came to a dead end at the Detroit River, and at this place, was a small park, and had a long concrete embankment that stretched all along the Detroit River.  There were some factories further down the river and in the other direction was the Ambassador Bridge to Canada.  The place available for fishing was over a hundred yards, sometimes a little more.  There was always a pretty good collection of fishermen making use of this place.  Some of these guys had two or three, really big rods that they used to fling their lines as far out into the water as they could, and then anchor the rod in a holder, or in some other contraptions.  They would have a bell at the tip of the rod, so they could sit back and relax, waiting for the bell to ring and work on reeling in the big one.  When the fish were biting, or the perch were running, it might be hard to get a good spot amongst all these avid fishermen.  Since we were kids, and back then, kids still respected and feared most adults, we were not about to horn in or try to push our way around these guys.  So, we knew that if we wanted to get a good spot, we had to get down there early.

After this lengthy prelude, we can proceed to what happened that day.  As I mentioned above, I am pretty sure that it was a Saturday in May, because if it was in the summer, we could have gone out any weekday to go fishing.  So school was still in session, and part of what stands out about this event, is the fact it was quite early on a Saturday.  On the day before, we made our plans and found out who would be participating on the trip.  Just like in the movie The Magnificent Seven, each person in the group had something to make this a successful trip.  One kid had a radio, another one was able to bring his father’s tackle box, someone else was bringing snacks, another person was responsible for the bait, and maybe someone brought a watch and some pop.  If I remember correctly, the lineup that day was: Stevie, Robert, Eddie, Foster and myself.  The fishing five.  We all agreed to meet up a little after five in the morning so that we could be at the river by six.  This way, we could be assured of getting a good spot on the river and not have to worry about the sleepy head old guys.  We would be the early birds catching the fish.  One other aside on this.  In those ancient days, there were no cell phones or laptops or similar devices.  We rarely ever used the telephones in our house because the telephone was for important stuff, not for kids chatting on the line.  If the phone rang in your house, it was usually for something important.  The way that we normally would gather together on a summer morning to play baseball or just hang around, would work like this.  The first kid would show up either on the porch, of if not safe, on the sidewalk in front of the first kids house and call him: “Edeeeee, Edeeeee, Edeeee,” and then the kid would hear you and come out, or his mother would come to the door and tell you he would not be coming out.  As the group moved on, they would call at each house until you had the required quorum.  One other thing, it was important that the kid you were calling had a regular name.  It was fine to call, Steeeeveee, Billeeeee, Fosssssster , etc, but if the kids name was something hard, like Hector or Beauregard or Phillip, you had to practice it, or see if the kid had a nickname, or let someone else try it, or just move on to another house.  But for this trip, there would be no calling in front of the houses.  We just had to sure to meet up on time.

Saturday dawned, and it looked to be a beautiful day in May, sunny and not too cool at that time of the day.  A perfect day for fishing.  The group eventually gathered on the corner in front of Ed’s candy store, and after assuring that all the requirements were in order, the expedition set out up Mckinstry to Vernor Highway and beyond.  At that time of the morning we had the streets to ourselves and we traveled in a happy pace toward our goal.  When crossing the streets, there was little traffic out to impede us, and we were making pretty good time.  We crossed over and walked through Clark Park, to save a little time and eventually hit Fort Street.  We knew that only after another four or five blocks, we would be turning the corner at the Boulevard and be making our way, across the train tracks and down to the docks.  We talked excitedly about all the fish that we might be catching and how we would be getting the first shot at all those fish.  We knew that there would be few fishermen out that early on a Saturday and this would be our day.  We were probably only about a block from making the turn, when we became aware of a car that turned in front of us onto the side street as we were crossing.  We kept on  walking, but came to a halt when we heard someone call out to us from behind.  “Hey! Where are you kids going?  What are you doing out here so early in the morning?”  When we turned around, we were confronted by……..a couple of cop ladies!  What?  Obviously they were not from the Sherlock Holmes branch of the force, when they asked us where we were going.  Five kids, carrying fishing rods, and a tackle box, and other fishing accoutrements, did not look like some perps out on a caper.  Plus, the oldest of us might have been ten or eleven.  So we just answered, respectfully, that we were going fishing down to the Boulevard Docks.  We were almost there.  But these Bulldog Drumondettes, were not to be deprived of their big catch.  “Don’t you boys know that there is a curfew?  It isn’t even six o’clock yet, and you are out roaming the streets. “  We might not have known the exact time, but we had planned this all to arrive at our destination at six.  We tried to plead our case, but our complaints fell on unhearing ears.  These two fine ladies had moved on from the bloom of youth some time ago, and if they had participated in motherhood, pity those poor children.   They did not look like  they had a trace of humor or sympathy in their bones.  More than likely, they had previously served as jailers down at the Detroit House of Corrections, or as we knew it, DEHOCO.  They were not happy or go lucky.  We began to realize that we would have to turn around and end our dreams of fishing, as we were burning daylight and these ladies were not changing their mind.  So we gathered up our gear and made to set out for home.  But we were not even to be allowed to do this.  There would be further humiliation inflicted on us.   These curfew enforcers were not going to take any chances with unreliable criminals like us.  They pointed to their car and told us to “Get In!”  It was a big, black car.  It looked like it had probably been used by the Big Four (Detroit Cops who traveled with four big guys in the car, loaded with shotguns etc and looking for trouble) previously, and when they were given a new vehicle by the Department, allowed the police ladies to use their leftovers.  It was quite roomy in the back seat, and we were all able to fit in, even with our equipment.  

As we pulled away from the curb, one of them turned her grim visage to us and asked us where we lived.  It was here that we began to feel even a little more unsettled.  They wanted to know all of our names and the exact address of where each of us lived.  Now why would they do that?  They could just as easily dropped us off at the corner of our street and let us go home from there.  No, these Dragnettes, Sergeant Saturdays, were going to make their point.  If they couldn’t book us down at the station, they would be sure to perpetrate something even more effective.  It began to dawn on me what they were up to.  This was a Saturday morning.  In our neighborhood, especially if you were a church going family, Saturday was the ONE day in the week during the school year, where everyone could sleep in.  Most of our fathers did not have to work on Saturday and since no school, our mothers didn’t have to arise at the break of day to fix breakfast and lunches for us.  It was a day of sleeping in, at least a little.  What these ladies planned to do was, well it was criminal.  They were going to take each of us little miscreants up to our door, wake up the house and and berate whomever came to the door.  Since this little fishing trip wasn’t exactly something that was planned out with the parents, it would come as a shock and surprise to them when they answered the door.  In more ways than one.  So we were resigned to our fate.  As I was the first on the block, they went to our house first as the others looked on.  Luckily for me, it was my mother who was a perennial light sleeper, who answered the door, looked at me and the cop lady.  The kind lady,  filled in my mother about the nature of our perfidy and extracted a promise form her never to allow me to leave the house before curfew again, or at least till I was of the age of consent, or something like that.  It was over quickly and I slunk into the house.  I could only imagine what was going to happen as they proceeded down the block.  I know that Eddie had a very excitable father, so I prayed that he would not be the door answerer.  As there might have been another crime perpetrated in front of the cop ladies.  I envisioned gloom and doom for Robert and Stevie as well.  This fine fishing expedition had turned out to be a disaster of unknowable future results.  

We did not speak of this day again amongst ourselves.  It was a failure that we would never forget.  As for the ladies of the Forces, I can imagine the scene back at Fort and Green police station.  As they finished their shift, they could brag about how they broke up a ring of curfew breakers intent on crimes of an unspeakable nature.  Since they had arrived before the actual crime could be witnessed, they had to settle themselves with returning the hoodlums to their families with a warning that next time, it would be much worse.  I hope they got promoted to night work at Jackson Prison.

This was a true event and none of the names were changed in this story, because they were innocent.  

 

copyright 2019

Cecil B. DeMille Comes to 2193 McKinstry

As we are still awaiting the next batch of translations and research from The Taurus Foemus Institute we will instead relate some further adventures from the Golden Days of yesteryear.

This event occurred sometime most likely in the late 1950s.  Situations like this could never be planned in advance and they are things that just happen spontaneously, but then become historic tales of mis-rememberances in nature.  You have to imagine a hot day in the summer, maybe late July or early August.  It took place in the back yard of my cousin’s house on McKinstry.  I don’t know the exact reasons or the problem that had made this all possible, but it set the scene for an epic.   

The backyard of my cousin’s house was all dug up.  I believe that there was a issue  with the water pipe or the sewer or something.  The back yard had a series of piles of dirt and large holes in the ground.  As there was no garage on the property, it provided a large area of excavation.  To a kid, who might have been raised on watching many WWI and WWII movies on television and at the show, it looked sort of like trenches or a battle scene.  It was just calling on any kid that happened to be in the area to use this perfect battlefield to start a game of “guns” or “war”.  So before you knew it, a number of little kids were diving in the holes and jumping around and shooting at each other.  It was just something that happened naturally with bored kids looking for something to do in the dogs days of summer.

This might have gone on for a short while, when a couple of the participants decided to jump back in time and see if they could emulate the knights of the round table or maybe Ivanhoe.   The genius behind this maneuver was my cousin Stevie, as he was always a bit more of an adventurous sort.  In the backyard, there were clothes lines and of course there were clothes poles.  (For those who don’t know what they were,—few families owned dryers, and had to either go to the laundromat to dry their clothes or put them up on the clothes line in the back yard.  Wet clothes are heavy, so you needed these long, thin, wooden poles.  The pole would be stuck under the line and then stuck in the ground to support the clothes line.  Sometimes you might need three or four or more to do the job right.)  So Stevie and some of the rest of us enterprising kids picked up some of the clothes poles, and then got the inspiration to take the lids off the garbage cans in the alley.  Now you had lances and shields and you could begin the jousting tournament.  Before you could say : Lancelot- there were a few ersatz knights whaling away at each other in the back yard.  Too bad there weren’t any movie cameras available, as it would have made for exciting viewing.

Now some of the others that had been jumping in the holes and dirt, watched the jousting and decided that they wanted to get involved in some special way.  So you had some kids jousting, some still playing -War- and a few, led by, if I remember correctly, my cousin Jeannie,  decided to pull out a couple of the water hoses and see what they might do with those.  Before you know it, there were a couple hoses activated and began to squirt some of the jousters.  Since they were equipped already with a shield, they decided to attack the hose bearers, since they could protect themselves somewhat from the water being directed their way.  So now you had the beginnings of a massive water fight amongst the dirt, holes and kids in the yard.  It was a scene that Cecil B. DeMille would have loved to film.  The cast of thousands were indulging in a mass of activity and low level Hollywood type violence.  Some of the actors or extras might have been overdoing it and if Mr. DeMille had been present, he would have tried to stop the scene at this point, but it is doubtful that he would have been successful.

BUT——It was at this point, that someone much higher up the ladder than Cecil, someone who carried more weight and more authority than any Hollywood director.  Unbeknownst to the arrayed struggling kids, the back door to my cousin’s house opened and onto the back porch arrived my Uncle Teets.  He likely was just home from work or from a nap or something, but had been aroused by the sound of combat from the yard and he surveyed the scene in a rising bit of astonishment and a touch of certain irritation.  He just stood there and said one word : “CUT!!!!”  Now this wasn’t like Cecil saying stop the scene and do it over, this one word let everyone know that the all the activity was completely and emphatically at an end.  When our uncle said CUT, he meant business and he meant you had better CUT right now!   As soon as the kids heard him and then saw him staring at them from the porch, they all knew it was time to get out, NOW.  In just an instant, the backyard cleared of all the kids..  Just about everyone made for the alley and disappeared in both directions to home and hopeful safety.  My cousins, Robert, Stevie and possibly Jeanie were not so lucky, as they lived there and could not follow the rest out of the yard.   There was no diplomatic immunity for them.   They were left to face the consequences, none of the rest of us were willing to act as their witnesses or lawyers, we only wanted to CUT.  They would have to defend themselves in the coming trial, as they would have no sympathetic bystanders speaking in their defense.

If this scene had played out in some backyard in modern times.  The results might have been a little different.  As we all know, OSHA or the the FDA or FBI or some governmental department would have instructed the parents in the proper procedure.  If there was to be jousting, the participants would all have to be wearing helmets, with googles, body padding and proper footwear.  Those playing War, would be stopped immediately, due to the violent nature of imaginary guns and shooting.  The EPA would have come down on the excessive use of water power and leaky hoses.  The parents would probably have been subjected to a trial or a hearing in court and subject to fines regarding child endangerment and assorted violent activities.  Good thing that the kids of today can just stay inside on warm summer days and look at their tablets, video games and iPhones.

copyright 2019

Remembrances of the Much Faded Past

Since we still do not have the latest updates from The TFI,BI, possibly due to the weather and internet blackouts, we will instead publish a true life story of a time from long ago.  Kind of like reality TV from the late 1950s.    It is from an area of southwest Detroit.  The territory covered, had boundaries loosely delineated thusly: the edge of Clark Park, to the Cadillac factory, to St. Hedwig Church to Holy Redeemer Church.  This was a pretty good sized piece of property.  In this land of adventure, romance, hi-jinks, church and school activities and opportunities lost and won, there were many interesting events and characters.  Amongst the general population, there were various miscreants, gangs like the Crows and the Bagley Boys, wannabe geniuses, bums, little kids, big kids, morons, has beens, coulda beens, frustrated parents and even dedicated priests and nuns trying to get them all on the track to heaven.  There were many local stores and establishments where the population gathered.  Some of the more famous located therein, Duly’s, Banner Market, Magic Bakery, Roses Bar,  Cozy Sweet Shoppe, Mallon’s Drug Store, Morris Menswear, Pancho’s Chili House, the Kresge Dime Store, Cunningham’s and many more.

In this community, we might find starring roles played by the some of these leading lights, Smiley, Moon, Farouk, Muldoon, Pancho, Charlie Brown, Buzz, even Lawrencie.  These were older kids, some who had established a name and were entitled to these nicknames, which many carried the rest of their lives.  The younger kids didn’t have well known names and were generally ignored by the ruling class.  There were three youngsters, who were sometimes known by the names, Pinkos, Szwapa and Mylenek (Robert, Stevie and Billy), which was also the name festooned on the side of the funeral home opposite St. Hedwig Church.  How these names were applied to these kids is still clouded in mystery.

For this chapter of the reality show, we are going to take one day, date uncertain, from sometime in the late 1950s.  It would be a Saturday in the summer for sure.  The boys were at loose ends and decided that a day at the movies would be the best use of their time.  Little did they know, that this happy occupation would soon be something that would fade from the local scene in the next ten years or so and never to be repeated again.

If you were going to the show, it would be the neighborhood movie house—The Stratford (on Vernor Hwy).  We had no knowledge of the possible lofty intent of the original owners to connect this theatre to the Bard of Avon.  In order to attend the Saturday matinee at the Stratford, it would require the acquisition of one quarter.  So it was necessary to find pop bottles to return, parents to be shaken down, piggy banks to be robbed, any means that could produce that twenty five cents.  Once arriving at the box office, you would surrender your quarter and receive thirteen cents change.  Then you cold proceed into the lobby (semi-air-conditioned) and get into the long line at the concession stand.  It was important to get into the theatre as early as possible, so you could buy your movie supplies and still get a seat and not miss any of the show.  A typical purchase on that day would be, five cents for a Bonamo’s Turkish Taffy bar (chocolate, banana, vanilla or lemon) one box of popcorn for a nickel and then three pieces of penny candy, maybe a squirrel, Mary Jane, or a small Tootsie Roll.  In this tight budget, there was no money for a pop purchase.  There was no room for luxuries, and you wanted your snacks to last as long as possible.

Once the purchases were made, you had to go through the narrow door where a surly usher would be standing, ready to take your ticket, tearing it in half and giving you your passport to remain a citizen in good standing in the theatre.  Now you had to find a seat as quickly as possible.  You didn’t want to sit in the back, as that was not the most advantageous spot to view the movies.  If you were lucky, you might find a couple seats on the aisle.  This would be perfect.  The auditorium was filling rapidly with hundred of other kids.  It would be nice if you could get a seat in the balcony, but that was never opened until the lower level was completely packed with no seats available.  Waiting for the balcony to open was a chance that was not something you usually took, as they sometimes waited till well after the show started before they would open it up.  The ushers prowled the aisles enforcing the rules of the day.  NO SAVING SEATS!!! was one of the biggest.  You couldn’t try to sit down and occupy four or five seats with just one kid.  The usher would just overrule you with brute force and seat another group into your saved seats.  You had to stay in your seats until it was safe to get up at some point during the show.

If you had a Bonamo Taffy or a Holloway All Day Sucker, you might reach down to the floor and smack the bar on the floor before you opened the wrapper—that would allow you to have it broken into pieces and wouldn’t have to bite it off.  Once the lights began to dim and the bright white light from the projector was hitting the screen, you would see a blizzard of flattened pop corn boxes skimming through the air, like flying saucers from space hitting the screen.  This was the kick off.  The first thing viewed, would be the previews.  It might say, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.  The following films previewed would all show on those three days, then the next four days of the week would come up, and the films scheduled for those days would be previewed.  This was a neighborhood theatre.  Only the second and third rate movies would be shown here.  If you wanted to see the latest Hollywood Epic, like Around the World in 80 Days,  Lawrence of Arabia, Bridge on the River Kwai, you would have to go to downtown Detroit and see it at the ONE movie theatre that was showing it.  If it was a big hit, it might stay there for months, and it would not make it to the local neighborhood theatre for six months or more.  What we might be seeing on a Saturday afternoon, were low grade B movies or movies that had been around the block a few times.  It could be an old Martin and Lewis film or a Randolph Scot western , or a  current  movie that was finally hitting the neighborhood theatres. (All movies that were shown at the matinee, were suitable for juvenile viewing.)   It could also be one of those Italian epics of ancient times.  Those Italian movies might have one American actor as the star and the rest of the cast were all Italians or Greek actors.  It was puzzling to us kids, when you watched the guys talk and the words didn’t match what their lips were saying.  We thought it was something wrong with the movie or the projector, not being aware of the dubbing process.  It kind of ruined our viewing pleasure.

After consuming the majority of the concession stand purchases, you might regret that you didn’t have money for a pop.  At this point, it was important to use good strategy.  You had to wait till there was a scene in the movie, where the main female star was having a romantic conversation or love scene with one of the male stars, it was here that you could make a dash for the drinking fountain.  You would run up the aisle and hopefully find the drinking fountain available.  You would suck down as much water as you could in a few seconds and then dash back to your seat —hoping not to miss any important part of the movie.  Also, by not buying a big cup of pop, you might not have to run to the bathroom as other saps had to do and thereby taking a chance on missing something very important.

So there you have it, first the previews,  then there would be a cartoon and sometimes a news reel.  Then the movie would start.  You watched the first feature, then after maybe a brief intermission, followed by maybe another cartoon and then the second movie.   On a hot summer day, Robert, Stevie and Billy would be sitting in comfort for four hours or more.  Their parents were free from having to oversee their latest ill advised adventures for the whole afternoon.  It was a break for all the players involved.  No cell phones, tweeting or wasted jibber jabber, just a well spent afternoon.  On the way home, the boys would discuss the merits of the movies that were seen that day, and whether they would recommend them to any of their friends that didn’t have the chance to get to the show yet.  These reviews were better than anything Shirley Eder or Bosley Crowther would come up with in their entertainment columns, and more reliable.  Life actually was a little more simple back then.

Christmas?

The Christmas season is upon us again and what is Christmas 2018 going to be?  These days, Christmas time begins just a few minutes after the last trick or treater is shoved off the front porch and the light is turned off.  It then lasts till the dishes are being put away after the Christmas feast.  In the days of yore, or maybe fifty years ago or more, things were a little different.  All the shopping and preparations never seemed to start till well after Thanksgiving, being concentrated mainly in December.  The daily newspapers used to publish a little calendar on the front page every day, announcing how many Shopping Days there were till Christmas.  That was because just about every store was closed on Sundays back then.  Families usually stayed home on Sunday, going to Church, having the Sunday dinner, or visiting relatives, or catching up on the Sunday funnies and sports.  We even might be lucky enough to have a couple toy catalogs, maybe from Western Auto or some other store, and you could spend hours staring at all the great items between those covers.   No scurrying over to the mail or department stores, they were closed.

As it got closer to Christmas, we might start listening to our small supply of Christmas music.  We might hear, Adeste Fidelis by Bing Crosby, The Twelve Days of Christmas by Perry Como, Rudolf or Here Comes Santa Claus by Gene Autry, or good old Uncle Mistletoe.  On the television, there might be a couple Christmas specials, and finally some Christmas cartoons like Hardrock, Cocoa & Joe or maybe Frosty the Snowman or Suzy Snowflake.  Not a lot to choose from there.  In our house, the Christmas tree would not go up till Christmas Eve.  We were sent to bed as early as possible, as the tree would not be decorated till we had jumped in bed and covered up our heads.  Of course it would be almost impossible to nod off to sleep that night. 

I don’t know if it is quite like this today, but back in those days, the behavior of the children should have been studied by some scientific researchers.  It was a mathematical fact, that the behavior of most kids seemed to get worse the closer you got to Christmas.  You would start out in early December with the greatest intentions of angelic deportment, and as the days narrowed, the harder it was to stay on the straight and narrow.  A couple days before Christmas and you were bouncing off the bedroom walls, sneaking around the house looking for hidden presents, trying to pry open any spare boxes of candy, looking to pull one out of the second layer and hoping no one would notice the missing chocolate morsel later.  Homework was neglected, chores were done half heartedly and everyone else in the house was getting on your nerves.

Santa Claus was another whole separate issue.  When you were in early grade school, you still believed in Santa Claus.  You and your friends hoped to get down to the big department store or some big event featuring Santa, so you could have your faith reconfirmed and maybe even drop a hint to him about what you wanted.  At night, you would think about the whole Santa thing on Christmas Eve.  Supposedly he flew around to everyone’s house all in one night.  With the time changes and speed of the reindeers, you could almost accept that.  How he got into the house was a little tougher.  He was to come down the chimney and deliver the goods to each house.  The problem was, your house had a coal furnace and no fireplace in sight.  In fact, none of your friends had fireplaces either.  That was a conundrum.  You just had to assume that he somehow got through the back door or window.  The plate of cookies were always mostly eaten when you got up on Christmas morning, so that was the only proof you had.  For most of us it was quite the shock when we found out the truth.  It came at different ages, you might have overheard some older kids in school talking about it, and then verifying this with others and maybe even your parents.  Some had it figured out early and some maybe not till they were out of high school.  The only thing, most of us always tried to keep the bluff up with the younger kids, as you didn’t want to spoil it for them.

Now the other part of Christmas, the most important part was the real reason for Christmas.   We would celebrate Advent, sometimes we even had Advent calendars.  Each Sunday we knew we were a little closer to Christmas, and then maybe the big Midnight Mass or else going to Mass early on Christmas morning, but we all knew the other side of Christmas, why there was a Christmas celebration.   In these times, there does’t seem to be too much mention of the reason why there is a Christmas season and a Christmas Day.  The government and secular society want to keep Nativity scenes and any mention of the birth of Jesus, out of the public square.  Yet, why are all the governmental offices closed on Christmas Day and many also closing early on Christmas Eve?  Why does the post office issue stamps with depictions of the Blessed Mother and the baby Jesus?  On the one hand they acknowledge the events, but on the other, they want to either ignore it or at least not endorse any belief in it, since it might seem like the state is acknowledging religion, and might insult those who don’t believe in anything or want to be reminded about a possibility of there being a God, or just don’t want to be reminded about the whole thing.  

Why are so many people depressed at this time of the year?  We tend to have such a heightened expectation of what the Christmas and holiday season will be bringing us.  The kids all have high hopes for lots of gifts.  Some adults are looking for partners to share the Christmas and New Year holidays.  They don’t want to be alone, as it appears that everyone is having such a great time, at least from what they are seeing on television and the movies and other entertainment platforms.  Many of us, look back to our youth or former times when the Christmas season was such a special time and maybe not so much anymore.   For most of these people, it is such a let down, because what was imagined or hoped for, never can reach that point of happiness.  Maybe, what is missing is that we need to remember why there is a Christmas and what we should really be celebrating.  The presents, parties, dinners and decorations are all temporary things.  Maybe we could be reflecting on things that are more eternal.  

It is doubtful that any of us will be experiencing what happened in Dickens’ Christmas Carol.  We will not have Marley coming to visit us on Christmas Eve to remind us that maybe we need to change our lives before it’s too late.  Those ghosts of Christmas, Past, Present and Future will not come tramping through our bedrooms at this time of the year.  We could all likely benefit from something like those apparitions to help us think about where we are and where we are going.  It would be really something to see us transformed as Scrooge was.   So what better time than now, to think about the true meaning of Christmas.  Then see what we can do to help those who are not as fortunate as we are.  Look to mend fences with those we have wronged or stopped speaking to, due to some fight or disagreements long ago.  Think about our actions when out in public, our driving, our co-workers, the people who serve us at shops and restaurants, even our family members.  One day it will all be gone.  Like they sing in that one Christmas carol,  “why can’t we have Christmas the whole year around?”  

Merry Christmas

2018

How It Got Its Name—-

As readers of this blog are aware, we have reproduced (with permission) many of the results of the tedious research work from the world renowned,  Taurus Foemus University and Institute of Bologna, Italy. (TFUIBI)  Most of that research has been in relation to events or discoveries in Europe and some in Asia.   After a little digging, we have found a trove of discoveries that relate to North America and the United States in particular.  This esteemed study was brought to fruition by Professor Salvatore Boca di Gorganzola Smith.  

The first chapters of his discoveries relate to the original settling and naming of many of the familiar cities and states in America.  Having an interest in  the history of Detroit, I began my investigation there.  As we know, the French were the first settlers of the area.  The city on the straits in which is now modern Detroit, was discovered by a French officer and adventurer by name of  Major Jean Pierre Deblois-Detroit.  Although he was not the first to settle the area, he was the most pushy.  One day Major Detroit was in a contentious discussion regarding the naming of the settlement.  The others in the argument were, Chief Pontiac, the Duke de Chicago, and a Polish prince by name of Stanley Hamtramck.  They all claimed to have the naming right.  Before it could descend into a physical altercation, Detroit suggested a few games of chemin-de-fer, (or as it later was known, Parchesi) to settle the issue.  Winner take all.  They all readily agreed on the solution and the boards were set on the picnic tables in the fort.  (It was later said that Chief Pontiac might have gotten his game trickery idea from this event, although it was not evident from his diary entries of these days.)

So the game of chemin-de-fer (Parchesi)  ensued.  Due to his dexterity at games,  it was soon evident that Major Detroit would be the big winner.  So he got to name the settlement after himself.   Of course there was some complaints about cheating and some spirited bad blood came about, but it was finally all settled with a few payments of pelts, hides and golden spondoolicks.   Coming in a close second was Prince Hamtramck who got the consolation prize of getting to name a small Polish enclave just outside the fort after himself.  The Duke de Chicago believing that he was cheated by Detroit, angrily departed the scene and took his pet mastiff Gary, and headed west to see if he could make his fortune elsewhere.  (see below for the report on this)  Chief Pontiac started working on other plans, but he did spend some time with an English settler by the name of Hiram Motors.  Hiram got the chief to help him start a canoe livery business on Lake Huron.  The seed money from this came from gold that Hiram found in the old quarters of the Comte Cadillac.   For this boon from Chief Pontiac, Hiram promised to remember the chief down the road and would never forget that he helped a white man make his way in the new world.  He also promised him that one day the chief’s  people would also have the ability to open up gaming establishments, as soon as they became legal.

Of course, after this, due to some misunderstandings and some crooked deals by the English, Chief Pontiac came up with his great Conspiracy to capture all the English forts.  He was successful in a number of cases, but his plan for Detroit was ratted out to the English by one of Pontiac’s jilted girlfriends.  He did besiege Detroit, but was not able to take it, getting just as far as Del-Ray and then gave up the fight.   So the name remained Detroit and not Pontiac.  The chief was placated with having another small burg north of Detroit to be named, Pontiac.  Actually, part of his problem was his overheated ego issues, which tended to cloud his judgment at times.  So the big baby, did get one town named after himself.

As for the rest of the story, as promised above.  The Duke de Chicago headed west.  After many travails and setbacks, indian attacks, lack of food and general all around bad luck, the Duke found his way to the southern border of what is today know as Lake Michigan.  Just before he reached this point, his favorite dog, Gary, was eaten by a band of marauding coyotes.  The Duke established an outpost there and named it after his dog.  (Although an Indian soothsayer told the Duke that this was a sacred ground and if he built a settlement there, it would be haunted with evil spirits, ruined roads and foul smelling winds.)  He went ahead with naming the town Gary, and it is left to posterity to be the judge on the Indian fortune telling.  So the Duke continued west and established the little town of Chicago, which at the time, the Duke and his Duchess always said it would become my kind of town.

Not to forget about Chief Pontiac, he did receive another promised reward, long after his death.  After Hiram Motors became successful with the canoes, and later with horse and buggy services, his descendants drifted to careers in the military.  His great -great grandson, Vic, became a prominent general in the U.S. Army.  He made many significant contacts during his career and was able to accumulate enormous wealth and retired early.  Of course by now, you might remember the rest of this happy story.  The general got involved with one of the  first motor car manufacturers, just after Henry Ford.  He was soon running an empire of automobile production.  He named his new company after himself, not forgetting his military roots — General Motors.  He founded a number of divisions and successful models.  Remembering his family traditions from over the years, he did not forget to name one of his first successes after Chief Pontiac, and then his swiftest car was named after the old chief’s horse Thunderbird.   In his memoirs he also noted that due to the original source of family wealth, he named his most expensive line of automobiles after the Comte Cadillac.  You might not find this story in some of libraries or books in America, (don’t even bother with that worthless Wikipedia) but this tale will be eventually reported now that the archives are finally being opened for scholarly study, some of which you have just now been able to read.

copyright 2018

Not All Fairy Tales Are True – Part Two

In a previous essay, we discussed just a few of the old fairy tales when we pulled back the curtains to reveal what really happened with those old tales which may have been altered for children.  Today we have a few more revelations that can be correctly adjusted to the true story.  Any children who might be easily shocked or dismayed by this discussion, is hereby warned to stop reading at this point and return to their televisions  for some of the moronic cartoons that reside therein.

We will first tackle the story that relates the tale of the big bad wolf and the three pigs.  The reality here is not as much fun as what was related in the story books or cartoons.  The three pigs were a group of young hooligans.  They had all come into a nice inheritance when an uncle Arnie Pig passed on and being childless, left the dough to his three nephews.  (In just about all the fairy tales and cartoon characters, everyone seems to have nephews, but never kids.)  Anyway.  The pigs, Eddie, Freddie and Skip,  were not the brightest porkers in the pot and dissipated their funds pretty quickly.  Freddie only had enough cash to build a straw house, Eddie did manage a small wooden house and Skip, who was a tiny bit brighter than the other two, worked out a deal to buy a brick house on an interest only loan.

 

So there you have the house situation.  As previously mentioned, the pig brothers were a group of callow miscreants, looking for action in all their idle time.  The wolf in this tale, Herkimer T. Wolf, was getting pretty old and had basically retired from all his previous activities.  Sure, he still liked to have the odd pork loin if available, but most days he dined on a basic vegetarian diet.  He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, and the years of smoking cheap cigars had impacted his wind power.  He lived in a small hovel at the edge of the woods.  Although there were rumors that he did have money. which he had earned when he took a flyer on investing in pork bellies a few years back, the presence of wealth was not reflected in his residence.

The pigs were always looking for new things to occupy their time.  One day Freddie suggested that they hike on out to the woods and see if they could have some fun at the expense of Mr. Wolf.  So they trotted their little tails one sunny day and proceeded to serenade Wolf with a few sarcastic songs.  He eventually came out of his abode and told them to take off.  This, of course, had no effect on the pig brothers and they continued to heap abuse on the poor wolf.  Losing his patience, he ran out after them and chased them back to Eddie’s straw house.  Assuming that the wolf was out of breath, they continued their assault on his good name.  They had not noticed that Mr. Wolf had brought his cordless leaf blower with him.  He turned that baby on at full strength and the straw house was soon a windy memory.  The pigs took themselves to Freddie’s stick built shack and hid out there.  As the flow of insults from the pigs versus the wolf did not recede, the wolf knew he needed to take another tack to eject them from this house.  He looked in his tool kit and saw that he had his wood cutting axe, which had just been sharpened.  So he went to the wood house and warned the pigs to stop bothering him or he would tear down this house as well.  The pigs did not give a fig or a care about the wolf’s threats.  Seeing that they would not relent, the wolf began to hack away at the cheap foundation of that wood house.  Before you could say: “bacon and sausage for breakfast…” that little wooden house was soon coming down onto  the pigs.  Now, they were finally feeling a little less reckless and becoming fearful, ran with the greatest alacrity available to them, to Skip’s brick house.

Once they were safely ensconced in that well built brick edifice, they felt that they could continue to annoy and tease the old wolf to their little heart’s content.  They began to make a series of prank telephone calls to his house.  They would order pizza and have it sent to the wolf.  They even were brave enough, to ride their little scooter one evening out to the woods and proceeded to hurl eggs at the windows and doors of the wolf’s humble home.  The next day, the wolf came down to  Skip’s cottage.  He came to the door and warned them, that if they did not cease and desist from their behavior to him, he would leave them homeless, permanently.  The silly pigs, just laughed and laughed and continued to mock the wolf and even used some bad swear words too.  The wolf  had had enough of this and decided it was time for action.  He stormed off into the night, chased by the insults and laughter of the pigs.

A few days later, as the pigs were eating a leisurely breakfast and planning their evil activities of the day, there was a loud knocking at the front door.  They looked out the little peephole and were shocked to see the sheriff and a couple of his deputies on the porch.  The sheriff informed the pigs that they were being evicted from the home and had ten minutes to evacuate the premises.  Freddie and Eddie turned to Skip and asked them how could this be?  Skip admitted that he did have a pile of unopened mail from the bank and the finance company, but had been too busy to take a look at it.  It turned out that the wolf had been doing his homework on this.  The house was already subject to a short sale as Skip was upside down on his mortgage in a big way.  The bank accepted the Wolf’s offer and he was the new owner of the brick house.  The pigs were escorted out of the house with their belongings.  Much to their supreme dismay, they watched as a moving van was being unloaded and Mr. Herkimer T. Wolf was now moving into the house.  He was heard to be humming a little ditty that sounded like, Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf etc etc etc, and he had a big smile on his old wolf face.

So you can see, that this story was much simpler when it was just told as a little story about the innocent three little pigs getting attacked by the big, bad wolf.  But when you get to the bottom of the real story, truth indeed, is stranger than fiction.

In order to do justice to one other old fairy tale, we should look into the case of Hansel and Gretel.  We all know the story about these two poor kids with the evil step-mother, getting lost in the woods, eating the old witch’s house and the shoving into the oven.  All in all it was a violent tale with a happy ending for the kids.  It has been repeated so many times, that you will never hear anywhere, except in this time and place, what the real story was of this supposed Fairy Tale.

To begin with, the names of the kids were kind of hyped to make them sound better.  The real names were just plain, Hans and Greta.  They did have a step-mother.  Their real mother left the family abode when the kids were younger.  She always wanted to be in the circus, and so the next time the circus came through town, she fled in the middle of the night along with it.  She eventually became part of an act with the elephant Mambo.  It was known as Mambo and Betty the Dancing Queens.  In order to perform with no inhibitions, Betty would always quaff a number of flagons of beer before each show.  Some nights she would give one mug to Mambo as a treat.  Well, one hot and steamy night, Betty felt sorry for Mambo and gave her a couple of buckets of beer before the act.  That night, during the encore, Mambo, instead of doing one-two-three step up, did one-two-three step back and that was that for the act and poor Betty.  So the kids would not see mother again.

The step-mother was really a decent soul, but had a hard time cooking, cleaning and taking care of the two brats.  They were not cooperative and always tried to aggravate their new mother.  One morning, after an ugly scene over the breakfast table, Hans and Greta stormed out of the house, supposedly on their way to school.  Instead, they made their way off into the neighboring woods to seek adventure and hide out from the truant officer.  While walking through the woods, they came across a beautiful, rushing stream.  Looking  to find their way across, they stumbled in the underbrush onto a quaint wooden, footbridge.  They ran across the bridge and eventually came to a small clearing.  They began to smell these wonderful waves of sweet chocolate and baked goods.  At the far edge of the clearing, they saw a little cottage tucked into woods.  They were drawn to the place by the aromatic scent of the goodies which must reside within.  Hans looked through the window and did not see anyone inside.  They knocked at the door.  When no one answered they walked inside and were astonished by the pile of fudge, candies, and brownies on the tables in the kitchen.  Not in any way being shy, they both began to assault the plates with gusto.  They ate the fudge, they demolished the candy and had their way with most of the cookies.  They looked around for something to drink, but only spied a jug of hard cider.  Throwing caution to the wind, they washed the goodies down with the cider.  Before you knew it,  they were both passed out on the cottage floor.

A short time later, into the door came the owner and baker, Fannie, with a basket of cooking supplies that she needed for her next batch.  She viewed the wreckage and bodies with some dismay.  She had a big order that needed to be sent out the next day.  As she had a very successful mail order business, Fannie’s Goodies, and this was a very unpleasant turn of events.  She remembered that in her haste that morning, she had forgotten to cover up the entrance to her secret bridge, and this was the result of that error.  She quickly formulated a plan to resolve the issue.  She went into her bedroom and pulled out her old Colt .45 out of her socks drawer and found her fly swatter and a small blackjack.  Armed for the occasion, she returned to the kitchen and threw a couple of buckets of water on the tykes.  They awoke in a terrible mood and made to attack old Fannie, but came to their senses when confronted with the pistol and blackjack.  She let them know in short order what she wanted them to do.  They would have to bake and cook and sweat and work, under her close directions and recipes, until they had completely replaced everything that they had consumed, and another batch the same size as punishment for what they had done.  The two hooligans, hooted and crowed and swore so bad that it would curl the hair on a drunken sailor.  Fannie would have none of it.  She slapped them around with the fly swatter and set them to work.  No matter how much they cried, they would not leave until the work was done.  

Seeing that resistance would be of no use, they heaved their way into the tasks at hand.  In a surprisingly short time, Fannie had the little knuckleheads hard at work and getting the assembly line filled with goodies.  They labored longer that day, then they had at any time in their short, unfortunate lives.  It was hard work, and no breaks were given.  Eventually, as the sun was setting in the west, they had filled the tables and tins and shelves with the required treats.  Fannie had sampled each batch as it was out of the oven or bowls, and if it was not to her liking, they had to start over again.  So, they finally had completed the task to her satisfaction.  They had no interest in sampling any of the snacks themselves, as they were sick of the whole enterprise.  They wearily asked Fannie if they could now go home.  Fannie made them stand by the front door, with their backs to her.  They might have thought she was going to shoot them, since they quivered and moaned as they stood there.  She tied a rag around the eyes of both of them and pushed them through the door.  It was now getting quite dark and Hans and Greta were terrified about what might happen next.  Fannie led them through the woods to the bridge and guided them over it, and made them walk a little while longer with the blindfolds in place.  She then told them to lie down and start counting.  When they reached 500 they could take off their blindfolds and they would be able to make their way safely home from there.  Fannie withdrew and made sure that the entrance to her hidden bridge would not be found again.

Hans and Greta, stayed quivering on the ground a little while longer, as they could barely count to forty and had no idea how to arrive at 500, so they just waited till they thought it was safe.  They then jumped up, with no glance behind them, and ran as if their pants were on fire, all the way home.  You know the rest.  When they got home, they made up the whole story about the bread crumbs, the ginger bread house and the wicked witch, the oven etc etc.  Their father and step-mother,  took pity on them and offered them each a large glass of cold milk with a stack of hot cookies.  They were stunned, when Hans and Greta, declined the proffered treats and just toddled off to bed.  After these events, the family, basically lived happily ever after.  Fannie and her Fannie’s Farm Treats, eventually became a successful entrepreneur and she also lived happily ever after.

the end

copyright 2018

Hello again, this is Derek Derrick, from Celebrities R Us Network.  We have another great interview today, with a star from the entertainment galaxy.  Today we will be speaking to Bartwood Stillbottom, with an interesting twist to his Hollywood occupation.

“welcome, Mr. Stillbottom, glad to have you on board, do your friends call you Bart?”

BS “Yes they do.”

DD “Well Bart what is the story that you have for us today?”

BS “excuse me, but you can call me Mr. Stillbottom or Bartwood,”

DD”you DID say that your friends call you Bart, right?”

BS “Yes I did.  But we just met, and I would not consider you a friend a this point of our relationship.”

DD “Ok,. got it, well Bartwood what is your current occupation and relationship to Hollywood?”

BS  “well, I am retired now, but at one time, I was an important Theatrical Agent in Hollywood, films and television.”

DD  “ok, but a lot of people can make that claim, what was so special about you?”

BS “ I was one of the very few animal actor agents.”

DD “Animal actors?  You mean that you represented doggies and horses?”

BS  “You could say that, but in a little more professional way.”

DD  “ok – give me a couple for instances of the big names that you worked with.  Did you represent someone like Lassie?”

BS  “Funny you should mention that.  That was one of the first big jobs I was ever involved with.”

DD  “You mean that you represented the original Lassie?”

BS  “Not THEE Lassie, but one of the Lassies.”

DD  “You mean, there was more than one Lassie?  I know that over the years, the dogs probably died, so they hired new ones.  Is that what you are talking about?”

BS  “Oh no.  In each film, there was always more than one Lassie.  I represented a couple of them.”

DD  “You’re going to have to explain yourself, as I always thought there was only one dog in each movie.”

BS “well, you had your main Lassie.  That one was more or less just a show dog.  She would be there for the happy shots, sitting with the kid, or laying on the floor with the family or standing in profile in the start of end of the movie, kind of like a prima donna.  Her real name was Butterbean.  But for the other shots and stunts we had other Lassies.  My dog was the running and jumping and swimming Lassie.  She would do all the hard stuff that the other dog couldn’t do.  Then we had the barking Lassie.  This dog was the one that would come running up to Timmy’s mother or the sheriff or other kid and start barking to them.  She would bark and bark until they got the message that the kid had fallen down the mineshaft or was being held prisoner in the bad guy’s cabin.  She was a real good barker.  Then when they knew they had to follow Lassie to find the kid, then my dog would be the one to lead them to wherever they had to go.”

DD “Wow, I never knew that, three Lassies.  Were there any others?”

BS  “We did have one other, and that one was a speciality dog.  I also represented this dog.  His name was Bruno, and he only did the most dangerous stunts.  If they needed someone to grab the lit dynamite stick from the shack, or pull the girl out of the burning building, we would call on Bruno.  He was also the one that we used for the scenes where Lassie was wounded or almost dead.  He could really pull that scene off every time.  After he was shot or stabbed or attacked by the bad guys, he would lay by the fire and let the doctor and the kid bring him back to life.  Then when he was better, they would bring on Butterbean to be the cured Lassie.”

DD “Did you have any other celebrity animals?”

BS  “Sure.  I had one of the Rin Tin Tins.  The original dog was pretty good, but the whole fame thing went to his head.  He got lazy and put on a little weight.  So he could not be relied on to do any of the tough stuff.  When we needed the dog to jump up and fight some bad guys, they had to use my dog.  He got paid $100 bucks per fight and some films had four or five fights, so that helped.  They would wrap some steak meat inside the shirt of the bad guy and then let the dog go on him.  So when they rolled around on the ground, it looked like the dog was trying to kill the guy, but he really just wanted that meat.  They also had a very athletic dog called Beauregard, who was good with the horses.  When they had some of the scenes where the cavalry was chasing Indians or bad guys, he would run along with all the horses and would even be able to jump up and knock a guy off his saddle.  Unfortunately, we lost old Beau when one night after some pretty tough scenes, he ran off with one of the other extra dogs that were used and we never saw either again.”

DD “I guess he couldn’t take the pressure, any other animals?”

BS – “I was involved with the Lone Ranger and Tonto and some of their films.”

DD “ I suppose you didn’t represent Silver, right?”

BS “That is correct.  Here was another series that had a stand in or stunt double for the original Silver.  Old Silver had done a few too many “Hi yos” over the years.  He had a hard time doing that jumping up on his back legs and letting the Lone Ranger ride to the rescue.  He really let himself go after awhile and he could barely canter down the road.  They had to be careful with the filming, no closeups, as it would show his age and extra weight.  They needed a younger horse and I happened to have good old Jumping Jimmy.  JJ had to be touched up a little, as he wasn’t white all over like Silver.  So he had to go into makeup just like regular actors before his scenes.  He really played the part and got a little spoiled over the years.  I think even Silver resented him after awhile.  They could never be on the set together at the same time, as they would start acting up and try to get at each other.  Professional jealousy, just like real stars.”

DD “What did the Lone Ranger think about all of this?”

BS “If I may say, he really didn’t give a crap.  He just wanted them to bring on a horse that would get him through the scene.  It gets a little tough when you are on location and everyone is not on the same page.  He was professional and expected the horses to be the same.”

DD “Any others like Roy Rogers and Trigger?”

BS “Although there were rumors over the years, I believe there might have only been one Trigger.  Although I did hear that the horse that was stuffed, was not the real Trigger.  But I don’t want to get into that.”

DD  “Interesting, I guess we could save that story for another time.  Any others that were of interest?”

BS “At the end, I did try and cash in on the fish thing.  When they had the Flipper show and movies, I bought a semi-trained dolphin, that I hoped to make some cash off in those line of films.  But it never worked out, sadly for me and the Dolphin.”

DD “what happened there?”

BS “Well, I had just purchased Kevin the dolphin and was working on getting him an interview on the set of the latest film.  The location was four or five hours away in Florida.  I hired a kid to drive the tank truck that was filled with the special water and Kevin.  I should have done a little more of a background check on the kid.  He left with the truck and I flew to the location.  I did not know that shortly after leaving, he stopped at a truck stop to pick up his girlfriend.  It turned our some of his buddies were there and he had to show them Kevin and the truck an all the water gauges that were involved.  He might have had couple beers as well.  They eventually got back on the road.  He drove through the night and stopped at a rest stop right before his destination, to get a little shut eye, he said.  When he arrived on the set with the truck, we saw to our horror, that Kevin was no longer a swimmer as there was no water in the truck.  Apparently, while showing off to his buddies, the kid forgot to close one of the valves and on the road there, all the water leaked out.  I did try to get the kid indicted for murder or something, but I didn’t have a good animal lawyer available at the time, so he got off with a suspended sentence for criminal ignorance.  That was just about the end of my career.”

DD “Well Bartwood, that was a sad ending to a mostly interesting story.  Good luck to you in your forced retirement.”

BS “ Thank you.”

DD “That’s it from Celebrities R Us today.  Tune in next week for another completely thrilling story from the backlots of Hollywood.”

 

copyright@2018

 

 

Part IV

     The next day was ugly, with a steady drizzle falling from the sky.  Steve and Kurt met on the corner of Steve’s block and began the slow walk to Thad’s house.  If they failed in their mission, being late for school today would not matter.

     “Listen  Kurt, I have a plan.  We’re almost there, so just go along with whatever I say.”

     “Aye, aye, Black Jack.”

     They climbed the creaky wooden steps of the Felt house.  It was a big and old frame house.  It had been vacant for a few years before Thad’s family moved in.  There were old rumors that it was haunted.  Right now, ghosts were the least of their worries.  Steve knocked on the rickety screen door.

     A frazzled, tough-looking, big woman came to the door.  Now Steve knew where Thad got his good looks from.  She looked like she could handle herself in any type of situation, not a person to be trifled with.

     “Yes?  If you’re selling something, or looking for money, we’re not buying today.” she rasped.

     “Mrs. Felt?  We’re here about Thad.  He’s at school right?”  Steve said weakly.

     “That’s right.  What’s he done now?”

     “Nothing Ma’am” said Steve, relieved and getting his confidence back now.  He decided to take the plunge.  “It’s about Thad and Briney High.”

     “I won’t sign unless he tells me why he wants to go there.  I don’t trust the boy.”

     “We’re friends of his and we want him to go to Briney.  We’ll tell you the real reason if you promise not to tell Thad we were here.  He’d be real upset if he knew.”  So far he had not told her a lie, except for the part about this friendship with Thad.

     She looked at them with narrowed eyes.  “Okay boys, but you’d better make it good.”

     “Mrs. Felt, we’re captains of the Briney Dance Club.  Thad wants to be part of our group because St. Vincent’s doesn’t have a dance club.  He was afraid you wouldn’t believe him.  Rather than have him miss out, we’re asking for him.  We know that’s hard to believe, so we figured it would look better if it came from us.”

     “What did you say your names were again?”

     He mumbled something that sounded like Tim and Jack.  Steve was growing nervous again.

     She glowered at them, then gave a quick snort and a strange laugh.

     “It’s hard to believe about my Thad, but if it’s the truth, maybe it will do the boy some good.  I won’t say anything to him, it’ll be our secret.  I’ll get the form and sign it.  Will you boys drop it off for me?”

     “Yes ma’am.”  They both said at once.

     She was back at the door in a minute.  The form was signed, and she had written on the bottom “ Thaddeus to be enrolled in Dance Class!”

     “There you are.  Now let me get back to my housework.”

     They ran off the porch and sped to Briney High with the paper.  They got a receipt and a form for Thad telling him he had been accepted for the fall term.

     When they got back to St. Vincent’s, they stuffed the form into Thad’s locker.  It was never locked.  No one would dare steal from him.  Then they reported to the hall monitor for their punishment.  Cleaning blackboard erasers for three days was a penalty they accepted gladly.  First hour classes were just ending, so it was a simple matter to slip into the next class virtually unnoticed.

     The bell finally sounded for lunch hour.  This would be the test to see if they had failed or succeeded.  Thad went to his locker for his lunch and stalked off to the cafeteria.  Unable to eat, Steve and Kurt, nervously sat in an empty classroom through the lunch period.

     Classes were soon finished for the day and there was still no sign from Thad.  Steve stood in the hallway waiting for Kurt.  Virginia Longeduc walked up to him.  She looked to be in a bad temper.  “Vernor, I have worn this revolting jacket for weeks now and I’ve yet to see any more cash from you.  You promised me THREE Dollars A WEEK!.  All you’ve given me is two rolls of pennies and a pack of gum.  Either you cough up or I’m gonna do some talking.  I’ve got a few suspicions and if I’m right, you could be a future dead man.”

     Over her shoulder, Steve saw Thad coming down the corridor toward them.

     “Okay Virginia, you’re right,. and I’m real sorry about the money.  Here’s a buck right now.  It’s all I have.  You’ll have the rest of the money by next week.”

     “No way, buddy boy, I’ll take the buck, but you either fork over or make it FIVE bucks a week.  That’s be twenty you owe me.”

     “Twenty bucks????  What about the two I already gave you?”

     “Interest.  Plus I got to share with Judy too.  Twenty or I talk.”

     “Okay, twenty.  Do me one more favor.  Slap me in the face when you leave.”

     “What” Are you  nuts or something?”

     “Just slap me Virginia!”

     She shrugged and enthusiastically slapped him on the face.  She walked off just as Thad reached him.

     “Girl trouble  Vernor?”  Thad laughed sarcastically.  “Virginia and me will be going to Briney together next year.  At least she has good taste!”

     He then hit Steve as hard as he could in his upper arm.  “That’s something to remember me by, since I won’t be seeing your ugly face around next year.  Don’t bother my woman anymore, either.  Keep your nose clean, Vernor!”  He thumped off down the hall.

     His face stung and his arm felt like it was going to fall off.  There would be a nice bruise there.  Steve didn’t mind it though, as he watched Thad go out the door.  The pain was just starting to ease up as he tried to visualize Thad in a tutu.

the end

copyright @1989

  One afternoon, Alphabets was standing by the first floor water fountain.  It had the coldest water in the whole school.  It was Thad Felt’s favorite watering hole.  At a sign from Donnie Stanko, who was standing next to him, Alphabets turned his back on the fountain.  Thad stopped to slurp up his cold reward.  Alphabets began to speak in a loud voice.

     “I tell you Donnie, my brother Victor is so lazy it’s incredible.  Four years ago he was kicked out of here for not doing his homework, skipping classes and goofing off in the hallways.  Getting expelled was his lucky break.”

     “How is that lucky, being kicked out?”

     “That’s just it.  He heard about the easier teachers at Briney.  You’d have to be a moron to fail.  My brother and all his buddies decided to go there.  They began the life of Riley over there.  They still cut classes, didn’t always complete their homework, and they all eventually graduated!”

     “Sounds great to me!  Maybe I’ll try to get in.”

     “It might be too late Donnie.  You have to sign up early for the fall term.  Sometimes they’re all booked up by May.  I won’t mention this to anyone else.  Maybe you’ll get lucky.  I don’t have problems with my studies, so don’t worry about me trying to beat you out, I’m staying here.”

     The two boys walked off down the corridor, leaving a stunned but gratified, Thad in their wake.  He couldn’t push his way out of school fast enough.

     Thad was home at the dinner table, declining his normal second or third helpings and even his usual frontal assault on his mother’s three layer chocolate cake.  He needed to get this discussion going and his business concluded as soon as possible.  He needed to get his mother’s signature on the permission slip to attend Briney High.  With that achieved, his life would be clear sailing for the next four years.  Unfortunately for Thad, his mother wanted to know why he wanted to travel an extra mile to school every day.  Having the same mental acumen as his pet goldfish Tim, Thad was drawing a blank.  He was left with his mouth open and an unsigned form on the kitchen table.  The cutoff was in just two days, and his mother’s suspicions were aroused.  Thad was in a panic.

     The next afternoon, Steve and Kurt sat in a classroom nervously discussing the situation.  “I’ve spoken to my contact at Briney.  He said that someone answering to Thad’s description had picked up the application yesterday.  He still has not returned it, and tomorrow is the last day.” said Kurt

     “The way Thad’s been stalking the halls, I may have to spend the night here.  Something must have gone wrong.”

     “I’ll say.”

     “Is there much to the form to fill out?  Is is real complicated?  For Thad, anything more complicated than a candy bar could be a major stumbling block.”

     “No.  Just one page, signed by either parent.  That must be it!  His mother wouldn’t sign it!” exclaimed Kurt.

     “you’re right.”  said Steve.  “His Dad works late.  He’s only home long enough to eat, have a few beers, smack a few of the  juvenile delinquents in the house and then go to bed.  His Ma must have put the kibosh on it.”

     “Then we’ve got to get it signed for him by tomorrow, or we’ll be signing up for Briney.”

     “Cheer up, let’s think what Black Jack would do in our shoes.”

     Kurt frowned.  “Remember the time he walked into Puerto Oro, unarmed and alone?  He copied the whole defensive set up of the fort.  It was so unexpected, he got away before they knew who he was.”

     “Yeah. like Jack said, ‘A bold face sometimes is the best disguise.’” said Steve

     “we’ll go over to Thad’s house on the way to school tomorrow and get his mother to sign it.”

     “Right.  And my father will increase my allowance to $100 a week!  We better get our personal effects in order if this doesn’t work.  We better hope that Thad isn’t skipping school.  Let’s hope that that one of us comes up with a plan by morning as well.”

     The two boys then snuck out the back door of school and ran all the way home.