by Curt Kovener
(This is an updated encore column from the Curt Comments archives.)
When Elvis died it shocked me. Gone at age 42 a bloated poster child of what poor nutrition, drugs, and an opulent lifestyle can result. Now that was more than 40 years —a generatioon—ago and many of us forgot or have died ourselves.
Then there was the passing of Shari Lewis (and I suppose by extension, her hand puppet Lambchop). They were TV heroes to a bunch of young Baby Boomers. I remember having a stuffed Lambchop toy in my early youth. I’d sit and watch Shari and the real (?) Lambchop on Saturday morning TV.
Then we lost, Buffalo Bob Smith host of —“Hey Kids, what time is it?”— (all together now) “It’s Howdy Doody Time!”. Those black & white TV heroes were colorful: Howdy Doody, Clarabelle the Clown, Phineas T. Bluster.
And before that show was Roy Rogers. I always got a kick out of Roy’s sidekick Pat Brady and his old Jeep ‘Nellie Belle’. I remember, at that young age, hoping to grow up to be a sidekick like Pat: provide some comic relief and help my leader-friend out of tough spots. Even now at most of our late-night music playing session, the gray haired, round bellied pickers stumble through a version of “Happy Trails”.
I guess my first realization that I had grown up was when I learned that Dick ‘The Bruiser’ Afflis had died.
While Mom didn’t really approve of me watching Championship Wrestling on Saturday afternoon TV, I would turn the sound down real low and hope she wouldn’t catch me or that brother Scott would rat me out.
But invariably, the excitement of seeing the bad guy whupping up on the good guy got the best of me and I’d shout out my encouragement to my TV wrestling ring heroes and my secret would be exposed.
“Why no, Mom, that wrestling isn’t fake. Why sure a 250-pound wrestler can jump from the top rope and land with his knee right on “The Bruiser’s” throat. And the only reason “Bruiser” can keep on wrestling is because he’s in such good physical shape.”
One time the Bruiser wrestled Cowboy Bob Ellis at the CHS high school gym. I was torn with emotion as I saw two of my WTTV Channel 4 heroes slapping and clawing and punching and kicking and tossing and slamming and doing their best to tear a limb off one another. Surely these two fellows hated each other forever.
It wasn’t until much later that I was told that following the local match that Bruiser’s white Cadillac pulled up in front of what was then Pee Wee Inn, Bruiser & Cowboy Bob both went in and each got a beer to go and went on their way back to Indianapolis.
Of course, Walt Disney died more than 50 years ago but Mickey Mouse still lives on. But Jimmy and Roy, the two leaders of the Mousketeers on the Mickey Mouse Club are no longer with us. And most of the 50’s Mousketeers are in nursing homes or gone on to their reward.
I guess the one thread that runs true throughout this fabric of our youth is wholesomeness. Shari Lewis, Roy Rogers, Buffalo Bob, Jimmy Stewart all portrayed what could be the good side of humanity. Even, Dick the Bruiser had his fair play, compassionate moments. Then some low-life scum-sucker would smack him with a chair and it’d tick Bruiser off and…well, we are all familiar with the rest of the choreography.
All of my childhood heroes are going to their great reward. And I’m forced to look around and wonder who’ll come along to fill their shoes. From my perspective at too close to 70, the outlook isn’t at all wholesome and pleasant. It’s more like that crazed look Dick the Bruiser got after being pummeled on the head with a metal fold-up chair.