Chicken Or The Egg?

Posted on March 27, 2012 by Kevin

I first discovered Marvel Comics characters onSaturday morning cartoons

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be some heavy philosophical discussion. I find it interesting to think about how iconic characters from books, comics,movies, radio and television exist in multiple formats and genres. Quite often these characters reach a vast audience of people who never experienced the source material. It is probably truer today with the plethora of blockbuster movies based upon novels, comic books and the like.

 

When I was growing up,  nearly every comic book character that I loved I was first introduced to via television. I became aware of Superman while watching the reruns of his 1952 television series sometime in the early 1960’s. I was fortunate enough to see the entire run of the 1966 Batman t.v. series when they first aired. Around the same time, I did begin to see the Superman and Batman comic books, but had yet to notice the Marvel Comics characters. I was still doing most of my comic reading at the barber shop and I don’t think he ever bought anything but DC comics.

Marvel characters first came to my attention in animated form with both the Saturday morning offering of The Fantastic Four and Spider Man as well as the afternoon syndicate Marvel Heroes. The latter were barely animated consisting primarily of actual panels from the comics flashed on the screen with some voice overs and sound effects. Despite this limitation, I enjoyed them thoroughly, most likely because the source material was so good. When I finally did see my favorite t.v. characters in comic form, I couldn’t wait to read them and actually found the comics more enjoyable than the programs, especially in the case of The Batman series. Though the comics went through a silly phase, by the late 60’s the stories were quite good.

I think things are quite different today. Rarely do the television or movie adaptations drive the consumer to the source material. It’s unfortunate, because whether it is a comic or a novel, there is something much more intimate about sitting and reading quietly. As much as I enjoyed television and movies, nothing could beat a stack of comics for sheer entertainment.

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UHF

Posted on March 23, 2012 by Kevin

I often hear people joke that there were only three T.V. channels when they were growing up. As I recall, there were slightly more than that when I was growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, but not too many more. For the most part, there were three networks, ABC, NBC and CBS, so it was for most of us like watching only three stations. It seemed to me that there was more than enough programming. In fact, there was probably too much. We had to make some hard choices about which programs to tune in, since there were no DVR’s or VCR’s and very few shows made it to syndication.

One day, I discovered a whole new world of television broadcasting thanks to my childhood best friend. One fateful afternoon, I was introduced to ultra high frequency television signals more popularly known as UHF. I can’t exactly recall why I had not viewed any of these channels at home. Perhaps we did not have a roof antenna to help bring in the signal or our television set did not work well. These UHF stations wer, for the most part, small independent operations that relied on either in house programming, sports or syndicated offerings.

The first shows I remember watching after school at his house were “Kimba The White Lion” and “Speed Racer” which aired back to back each day.

My first "Anime" experience.

Rather than explain “Kimba”, I’ll just refer you to Disney’s ‘The Lion King”. They are pretty much the same story except that Kimba was a…anyone? anyone? Right! A white lion.  As for “Speed Racer”, he needs no introduction as I’m sure everyone has heard of him. I did not know it at the time, but both were originally Japanese cartoons or Anime as these kids today like to call it. Since I loved anything animated or in comic form(coincidentally, both of these originated as Japanese comic books, or Manga as it is referred to by all us hip people).

Not knowing their origins did not prevent me from noticing the huge stylistic differences from the cartoons to which I had become accustomed. The animation itself was quite limited, not unlike the style pioneered by Hanna-Barbera studios for television, but the drawing style and sound track were very distinctive. Whatever the reason, I was hooked and we would race home from school everyday to watch those two shows before we got down to the serious business of goofing off, uh, I meant doing homework!

Eventually, I was able to watch UHF at home. I’m not sure if it was the newer television or that I noticed that you had to turn the top dial to “U” and then you could tune the higher numbered UHF stations with the bottom dial. Either way, the important thing was that I discovered something new, thanks to my friend. That’s the way the best stuff in life comes to fruition. It starts with one person telling another. The delivery method may have become more sophisticated, but the result is the same. With cable and satellite television homogenizing the networks and blurring the distinction between large and small, it doesn’t feel like you can discover that cool little niche of programming. Perhaps You Tube is the new UHF. He’s no Kimba, but that kitten playing piano is awfully darn cute!

 

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Wait Till Your Father Gets Home

Posted on March 21, 2012 by Kevin

That was the title of a 1972-1974 Hanna-Barbera prime time animated sitcom featuring Tom Bosley of Happy Days fame. It was also a popular refrain in most households when I was growing up. The moms of my era did all the grunt work and kept the homesteads running and the ever present warning of Dad finding out what you did wrong at the end of the day kept most of the kids in line.

The parent child dynamic is very unique. Love, guidance and nurturing are all very important in raising a child.(I’m kind of guessing here, since I do not have children) But, a little dose of fear can go a long way to keeping one on the straight and narrow. That was definitely omnipresent in my youth. I loved my dad and looked up to him, but knew full well there would be repercussions if I misbehaved. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about sheer terror at some horrible punishment, but, rather the subtle anxiety of the stern voice handing down your sentence. I’m sure I had been spanked on a few select occasions, but that was not the norm.

It was like that for years, though I must say that I was for the most part an exceedingly well behaved child, perhaps, the best behaved(or boring) of the five children in my family.

Then one day the entire father son relationship took a startling turn(cue dramatic music, da da da). I was a junior in high school and had been accepted into the National Honor Society . I was fairly ambivalent about the whole thing and wasn’t too sure if I would even bother to attend the induction ceremony. I had reached the sullen moody phase of my teen years. Well, my proud mom went out and purchased some new clothes for me to wear for that occasion. She presented them to me when I returned home from school that day and rather than thank her like a good son, I went ballistic and started yelling at her for buying the items. I let her know I wasn’t attending that stupid event and I stormed off.

Now, before I finish this story, you need to know the effort my mom put into buying those clothes. First off, she didn’t drive, so she walked close to two miles each way to our downtown shopping area and it was quite possible that she had worked the 11-7 night shift as a nurse the prior evening. No big deal, right?

I was sulking in my room later that day when my father came in to address the situation. Uh oh, I was in for it. I waited for the yelling, but all I got was a quiet, “Kevin,  I want to talk to you about how you treated your mother today.” He went on to tell me that my mom was proud and just wanted to make sure I looked nice and went to a lot of effort to do that for me. He continued with a comment that your parents are your best friends and you can depend upon them no matter what. At this point, I wasn’t feeling enough like a jerk, so my dad finishes with the tale of when I was very young and I would often come running back into the house because I forgot to give my mom a hug before I went out to play. Geez, couldn’t he have just kicked the crap out of me instead? It would have hurt a lot less.

Needless to say, I never treated my mom that poorly again. Strangely enough, neither did I apologize. We did not express a lot with words in my family, my father’s little talk being the exception. To this day, I’m not sure there is anything I regret as much as that moment when I yelled at my mom for simply being a good mother.

The transition of the relationship between my father and I from fearful child and stern disciplinarian to mutually respecting adults did not reach completion until a couple of years later. I was just out of high school and working in the small neighborhood grocery store my family owned. My older brother was in college, so I was second in command. On occasion, my parents would try to sneak away  for a brief vacation or over night trip to celebrate their anniversary. I would run the store with my two younger siblings. Quite a bit of responsibility for a twenty year old, but I never gave it a second thought. After one such trip, my father returned to discover I had forgotten to place an order for some meat. Often quick to anger, he started yelling at me for “screwing up”. Understand, my parents had everything on the line with this enterprise including a second mortgage on the family home. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, I heard myself yelling back letting him know I did the best I could and then(wait for it) I even used the “f” word! I had never spoken that word in front of my father, let alone shouted it at him(for the record, I didn’t say  “f” you. I merely used it as an adjective). Well, I paused for a moment and started to ponder exactly where I was going to be living the next day.

I took a half step back and waited for the yelling, but all I got was a quiet, ” you’re right, Kevin, I’m sorry”. From that moment on we worked as peers and my dad would often consult me regarding the business. If you’ve never experienced it, I can’t explain what it feels like when your father stops saying, “because I told you so” and asks instead, “what do you think?”. He told me my parents were my best friends. I guess he meant it. They were, they are…

 

 

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Back Seat Fun

Posted on March 18, 2012 by Kevin

Drive-In Theater. Fun nostalgic site on Drive-In Theaters

What comes to mind when you hear the phrase Drive-In Theater? Is it the memory of sitting in the back seat in  your pajamas as a little kid watching a movie or sitting in the back seat as a teen and not watching the movie? Perhaps both.

I’m often surprised how many people I encounter that are in their late forties or early fifties that have never been to a drive-in. They were once ubiquitous throughout the U.S. and, I thought, a Summer time tradition for most. For the first several years of my life I didn’t know you could actually watch a movie siting in a theater as opposed to the family sedan or station wagon.

I can’t state unequivocally what movie I first saw at the drive-in, but I think it was The Absent Minded Professor starring Fred MacMurray. 

I would have to say that 90% of the time we went to see a Disney film. Usually there were two features plus some cartoons before the main feature. Though the movies were quite memorable, it was the total experience that has, with the passage of time, grown into something quite legendary.

There were two drive-in theaters in close proximity to my family, but we always went to the Plainville Drive-In two towns over. They had a small ferris wheel that you could ride for free before the show began. It was okay, but the pre-show event that most excited us as kids was the old fashioned fire engine. They had this antique fire engine outfitted with bench seating along either side upon which sat assorted youngsters. The engine would then drive around the perimeter of the parking area with the siren blaring. What kid didn’t love a fire engine? Seriously, I’m daring you to find, even today, a child that doesn’t love fire engines. I’ll wait.

As with all drive-ins there was a central building which housed the projection equipment, snack bar and rest rooms. I always wanted one of those hot dogs that the intermission commercial made look so tempting, but alas, with a family of five, my parents made a batch of kool-aid and packed some snacks. Heck, we always had hot dogs at home, but they weren’t cooked on that keen spinning grill, nor did they dance their way into the buns as the commercial suggested. Going to the restrooms was quite an experience and not an enjoyable one. You could hear the whir of the projector as you approached the men’s room and it seemed to have an ominous tone as it welcomed you to the abyss that was the public bathroom. The urinal was one large connected trough with no dividers or privacy. I was not a fan. Needless to say, I got good at “holding it in”!

You could spend hours listing the shortcomings of  five children crammed into the back of a station wagon with pillows and blankets trying to watch a movie or I could spend one second explaining what the experience truly was– Magical!

As we grew, the trips to the drive-in became very infrequent. It was probably too difficult to fit us into the back of the car and there were so many more activities to occupy our time. I also think they may have run out of Disney films that my parents felt were appropriate for the five of us. I recall that the second feature of a double bill was somewhat geared towards an older audience in anticipation that the kids would fall asleep after their movie finished. I saw my first naked woman on screen during the movie “Hawaii”. I was too young to appreciate it, but I’m sure my parents were embarrassed based upon the way they kept urging my brother and I to go to sleep.

End of an Era

By the time I had reached my teens, the trips to the drive-in had ended. I mostly saw movies at the local theater which I could walk to with my friend and once my brother got his license we would occasionally go to the large multiplex several miles away. The last family trip to the drive-in, oddly enough, came after a long hiatus. My memory is not quite as vivid as I would have hoped, but I believe I had just graduated high school and for some strange reason my father  decided to go to the drive-in. I can’t recall which combination of my family went. I know it wasn’t everyone and the Chevy station wagon had been replaced by a Chrylser Newport. I was even more surprised that the movie was Star Wars which I had seen over a year prior with my brother and a date. As uncool as it was to have your brother on a date with you, it paled by comparison to the epic uncoolness of  an 18 year old going to the drive-in with his family.

Little did I know then, how significant that trip was. It signaled the end of the unified family experience.  My brother went to college, we had a family business to run and my siblings each had friends and activities that took precedent. No more drive-in, no more family vacations and barely ever a family dinner. Wow, who’da thunk that grimy asphalt theater was a metaphor for familial bliss? And you thought it was just a place to make out.

 

The awesomeness that was the drive-in movie!

 

 

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Model Behavior

Posted on March 15, 2012 by Kevin

When I was a kid, my dad’s work used to host a children’s Christmas party at the local theater. There was usually some movie shown and presents were given to all who attended. One year my cousin went with my brother and I. When it was time to get our presents, he got this awesome Aurora model kit of Batman and I got some dopey basketball game.  I really was jealous. That was just based upon the way the box looked. It was even more aggravating when I had seen the built up  kit at his house a few months later.

Strangely enough, it had never occurred to me to actually ask for that model for either a Birthday or Christmas. I had received lots of models over the years, but they were usually the science types. I must have built every anatomical kit there was. I could have come pretty close to building an entire human at one point.

I recall, I had always gotten really great gifts growing up. Fun toys that I still remember fondly. It is very odd that I can only remember asking for a specific gift twice in my life. The first Hot Wheels set one Christmas and a bike for my Birthday a few years later. It’s hard to imagine that there were not a lot more requests to Santa, but none that stand out looking back these many years. Maybe in a family of five kids you learned to not ask for too much and appreciated what you got. Fortunately, for me, it always seemed like more than enough. I probably trusted Santa’s better judgement in the gift selecting category. Too bad he blew it on the Batman model.

Yo, Saint Nick, I’m still waiting!

 

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Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Posted on March 14, 2012 by Kevin

With Spring just around the corner, many people are getting excited about the upcoming baseball season. I enjoy watching an occasional game, mostly because it just seems to make it feel like Summer, but I am not overly passionate about it. When I was a kid, I loved to play baseball. My brothers and I would spend hours after school and entire days in the Summer just practicing and playing in pick up games. We had a fairly large contingent of similarly aged youths in our immediate area and could field two complete teams on a regular basis.

We played Little League baseball as well. I remember much about those days, not all the memories are fond ones. I got my first glove when I was six and my dad had signed my older brother and I up for pee wee baseball. The smell of that leather was so unique and when we oiled the glove up it smelled even better. Whenever you got a new glove, you had to put linseed oil on it and tie it up with a baseball to get just the right shape. I have no idea how we knew what just the right shape was, but apparently we did.

The night before the first try outs, my dad came home from work and took my brother and I into the back yard to practice throwing and catching. It was a real “Leave It To Beaver” moment. It went fairly well, we caught some and dropped some. My brother was quite a  natural athlete and took to almost any sport immediately. I also possessed fairly good innate athletic ability, but not as quick to excel as my brother. As I was saying, we caught some and dropped some and continued for a while as dusk began to fall. It was getting a little dark and harder to see. Next thing, my dad throws the ball and it sails over my extended glove and smacks me right in the mouth. At that point, I was done with the fine sport of baseball. I started to cry(it hurt like heck), threw down my glove and went into the house. The last thing I remembered was my Mom chastising my Dad for playing catch in the dark. Other than that one time, my Mom was not  the type to play the, “you hurt my baby” routine.

Well, I got over my pain and still went to try outs. It was not the last time that a baseball would hit me in the mouth, the arm, stomach, leg or just about any other body part. That little white leather encased ball jumped around a lot!

Once, when I was ten and playing second base for my team, The Braves, I went to field a ground ball that took a nasty hop and nailed me in the mouth again. Now, this would be an awesome story if I described how I snatched the ball from the ground, spit out my bloody tooth while throwing the runner out at first base. Its actually still a pretty good story. I did gather my composure and pick the ball up to throw the runner out at first base. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but begin to cry(remember, it hurt like heck). I don’t really know if it was the pain or the embarrassment that I did not field the ball cleanly. Probably a little of both.

At that point, something nice happened. Not only did my coach come to check on me, but the coach of the opposing team came out, as well.  I waved them off and told them I was fine. It was my first “rub some dirt on it” and get back to the game moment. I thought the other coach displayed real sportsmanship, showing concern like that. Many of you must be thinking,” well, of course the other coach would be concerned, you were just a bunch of little kids”. You would think that wouldn’t you?  That was not always the case.

bad news bears movie poster

This movie could have easilybeen a biopic for many a youth

Take a look at this movie poster. If you’ve never seen the “Bad News Bears”, it might be hard for you to understand the rest of my post. I highly recommend this film. It was quite funny, rude and charming all at the same time. It was basically about a little league baseball team comprised of all the rejects that couldn’t make the other teams. It was full of overly competitive, petty adults and mean spirited teens that would do anything to win a baseball game. One would have assumed, as with most Hollywood films, that great liberties were taken and that it was quite an exaggeration of reality. Nope.

If anything, it undersold how bad the behavior of coaches and parents could be at children’s athletic events. I have seen grown men coach their teams on how to cheat. Some of these adults would often intimidate teen aged umpires, just to get the calls to go their way. I saw one coach whose son was pitching for a team we were playing berate him to the point of driving him from the mound in tears. I could go on, but why bother. It’s Spring. The sun will be shining. Play Ball!

 

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1980s Dark Tower commercial Featuring Orsen Wells – YouTube

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Kevin

Dark Tower was an awesome board game by Milton Bradley. Unlike your typical board game, it featured an electronic computer which presented the results of each turn with a combination of graphics and sound effects. While simplistic by today’s standards, in 1981 it was rather groundbreaking.

I received one for Christmas when I was 20. Perhaps a little old for games, but my parents always tried to find something that was a little bit fun for me. It was exceptionally fun to play and quite challenging due to the fact that strategy was a key factor in winning.

I dug mine out last year and found that the tower was not operating. I was quite disappointed. Well, the other day, I decide to take another look at it. I read online that the motors often fail. So I removed it from the bracket and manipulated the gear a bit and suddenly it was working again. I felt just like a kid at Christmas again.(even though I wasn’t a kid when I received the game the first time)

It’s all set up on my dining room table and ready to play. Now, if I can convince my wife to accept my challenge. I used to be pretty darn good at this game.

Check out the original commercial below. If you ever see one that works, grab it. They sell for big bucks on ebay, but I’m keeping mine!

1980s Dark Tower commercial Featuring Orsen Wells – YouTube.

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Eternal Damnation

Posted on March 10, 2012 by Kevin

Did this comic book cost me my soul?

Well, that certainly is an ominous title for such a fun loving blog. Believe me, it’s not all that dire. When I was in third grade I attended a very small Catholic School which was predominantly taught by nuns, though there were also some laypeople teachers.

During lunch break we were allowed a free reading period. One day I decided to bring in a few comics, one of which was Hulk 110 pictured at the left. Believe me, I could not have imagined there was anything remotely wrong with reading comic books back then. This was 1968 and the comics code was in full force and Fredric Wertham was but a distant memory (Wertham wrote a book in the 1950’s entitled “Seduction of  The Innocent”, which described the evils of comic books and their contribution to juvenile deliquency which contributed to the industries self censorship via the comics code authority).

My teacher, Sister(I forget her name) picked up my Hulk comic and started to peruse the issue. My first thought was, “neat, the nuns like comic books too”. All us hip kids used to say things like “neat” and “wicked” when something pleased us. Boy, was I wrong! She proceeded to tell me that they were the devils work and the corner store sold a lot of bad things. I was to take these books home and throw them away. My memory is a little vague, but I often remember her as telling me to burn them, but that seems way to melodramatic to have actually happened.

Oddly enough, she didn’t take them from me right then and there which was the typical modus operandi when such contraband made its way into the school. Even more odd was despite my natural born fear of nuns and priests and my tendency to be very obedient towards any authority figure, I did not follow her orders. To make matters worse, I even lied to her. I won the class spelling bee that day and the winner always received a small prize. The condition for my getting the award was to promise to destroy the comics.

I wonder if my superior spelling ability was due in part to reading comic books?

Not only did I not get rid of these comics, but I went on to amass a huge collection and eventually became a comic book retailer and briefly wrote comics. To this day, I do not know why I did not follow her directive. If you knew me back then, you probably would have been nauseated at how much of a “goody two shoes” and “teacher’s pet” I was. Perhaps I possessed some innate belief in my own value system which transcended that of even the all powerful church. Pretty heady stuff for a third grader.

Of course, in hindsight, you would have to concede that from her perspective, it was a fairly offensive comic book. Look at the cover. That’s practically the devil attacking two half naked men.  And that was after comic books were sanitized. Maybe I am going to hell,  after all.

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A Scary Mother Story

Posted on March 9, 2012 by Kevin

That title is quite misleading. There is absolutely nothing scary about my mom. She is  the most sweet and adorable person I have ever known. I’m sure many of you believe that your moms are probably as nice as mine. You’d be wrong, but I still encourage you to believe that–It’s your mom, after all.

The scary part of this post is really about the horror genre and the fact that my quiet little mom used to love old horror movies and scary T.V. shows. She passed this trait on to me at a very young age. I remember coming home from grade school to watch Dark Shadows every afternoon with my mom. I loved the eerie music that opened the show and who could resist vampires and witches on a soap opera?

Though we had five children in our family, I don’t recall any of my brothers and sisters watching with us. My sisters were probably too young(realistically, I was also too young for that program, whereas I was between the ages of 7-9 when I was viewing) and my brothers clearly had no interest.

barnabas model kit
Re-issue Barnabas Collins               model kit
A few years later when I had reached the ripe old age of 11, my brother and father were involved in Boy Scouts and would go away on camping trips. On those occasions, I would stay up late on Friday nights and watch the classic Universal Horror movies on the local UHF affiliate(correction: I think it was channel 5 from Boston) with my mother. With my father and brother gone, I was the eldest male in the house and I felt very grown up indeed. On some level, my mom probably let me stay up because watching Frankenstein or The Mummy alone at 11:00 pm was a bit unsettling. It didn’t hurt to have a 5′ tall 95 lb. body guard around, just in case.

My perception of my mother was always that of a quiet, loving mom. Now, looking back and remembering those scary shows she and I would enjoy together, I guess she was also a cool mom.


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Cool Cars

Posted on March 8, 2012 by Kevin

What were the coolest movie or T.V. cars ever? I’m sure we could debate this topic for years and each person’s list would vary depending upon their age. I’ll give you my top four and then you can discuss among yourselves.

1. 1966 Batmobile

2. Mach 5

3. Black Beauty

4. DRAG-U-LA

 

Okay, now what are your favorites? If anyone says Lightning McQueen, you’re way to young to appreciate my blog, but thanks for stopping by.

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