Memory Lane: My Erector Set

Vintage Erector Set Gilbert No. 6 1/2 Metal Case Many Pieces Working Motor 1950s

One of the joys of staying home from school sick–well, not really all that sick–on a cold, rainy winter’s day was my very own Gilbert Erector Set, complete with electric motor. That’s the blue thing with the black band around it, directly over the little metal pump-house. At least I always thought of it as a pump-house, without exactly knowing what a pump-house was.

Ah! Take this into bed, open the metal box, and get busy building things! All kinds of things: whatever you could imagine. But this was an old-fashioned set, so you had a lot of screws and nuts and had to use a screwdriver and a wrench. And the pieces, instead of being shaped for you, were metal plates and girders in assorted sizes–plus wheels and gears, as needed. The motor was for making things turn, which it did quite handily. The pump-house had no obvious purpose, but no way would I have ever parted with it.

And it was amazing how the time went by, as you put together towers and improbable flying machines, enclosures for your plastic dinosaurs, and more. Before you knew it, it was suppertime.

Of course, you had to have an imagination, to do this. True, the set came with an instruction book for making this or that; but it was more fun to invent things that weren’t in the book. The best part was this: until you actually finished putting something together, it never looked like anything. Just a bunch of girders, big and little wheels, and screws and nuts. It all came out of your imagination, by way of your hands.

Erector sets still exist, for those who want them. You can still get old sets like mine on eBay, if you want them. I comfort myself with the thought that they wouldn’t be selling them unless someone were buying them.

Memory Lane: Sky King

Remember this TV classic? Sky King, starring Kirby Grant, was one of the earliest TV Western hits, running from 1951-1954. They brought it back in syndication in 1959, which was when I saw it.

Sky King was billed as “America’s favorite flying cowboy.” Was there a lot of competition for that title? Anyhow, it was great fun, watching him chase down the bad guys in his airplane.

Ignore the earnest young woman trying to pass herself off as Peter Pan. Hey, a job is a job, right?

Memory Lane: Sandy Becker

Growing up in the New York media market in the 1950s and 60s, you just can’t imagine it without Sandy Becker on TV. Which he was, from 1955 through 1968, mostly on WNEW.

This guy was a volcano of talent: nobody like him, anymore, to entertain little kids and young teens. Original puppets? Sandy not only performed them; he made them. Far-out characters? Sandy played them: Norton Nork, Hambone, the Big Professor, and the inscrutable Dr. Gesundheit. He also did cartoons.

Much of his show was live, and, alas, little of it was recorded. Much of it was ad-libbed. And you also heard a lot of Bert Kaempfert music: the theme for his daytime show, heard in this video, was That Happy Feeling. When he was on at night, it was Afrikaan Beat.

Kids’ TV in this era was overrun with talent. Along with Sandy, we had the immortal Soupy Sales and the incredible Chuck McCann, who gained national recognition by winning an Oscar nomination for his supporting role in The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter… and his “Hi, guy! One shot and I’m good for the whole day!” deodorant commercials. Remember those? The protagonist was an ordinary gtuy who had to share a medicine cabinet with McCann’s weird character. But I digress.

Well, I can’t hear any of Bert Kaempfert’s music without thinking of Sandy Becker–gone, but lovingly remembered by probably millions of people who were kids then.

Let me see if I can get you just a tiny Hambone clip or something…

A Zany (but Harmless) Prank

My wife says I should tell you about this, so here goes.

Many years ago, the dentist next door got rid of a whole bunch of plaster dental molds. They were in rather nice cardboard sleeves, each set of choppers labeled as pertaining to a particular patient.

Well, I gave ’em out as Christmas presents to my family.

We were all gathered together at my Grandpa’s house–I don’t know how we all fit in there, every Christmas–and I had one gift-wrapped sleeve of dental molds for each guest. Ours is a small town, so chances were that the molds you received belonged to at least one person you actually knew. My mother, for instance, got a set of Wayne Whatsisname’s dental molds, who used to live around the block from us.

You should’ve seen the look on her face.

Everyone was flabbergasted, no one knew what to say–until my brother started giggling uncontrollably (I forget whose teeth he had), and next thing you know, they were all guffawing. It must have come as a great relief to realize this–er, gift–was just a gag.

Yes, we also gave out real presents. Nobody had to be content with a set of Priscilla So-and-so’s plaster teeth.

Home

43 Sheridan Ave, Metuchen, NJ 08840

When I think “home,” I think of the house that I grew up in. We moved in 1967, but to me it’s still home. In fact, that’s it, in the picture.

But you can’t go back: not in a fallen world, you can’t. Would you believe the taxes on it are almost $9,000 a year? That’s what we call Blue State taxes. And I won’t even tell you what it sells for. You wouldn’t believe me.

And anyhow, although the house still stands, my mother’s multifloribunda rose hedge is gone, the playground is gone, the woods is gone, and all the nice people and dogs and cats that I grew up with, they’re gone, too. Even if I could get back to my old bedroom, when I looked out the window, any window, everything would be different.

Nine thousand bucks in taxes. Every year.

No, you can’t go back. But we can and do go on. “In my father’s house are many mansions,” Jesus tells us. One of them is already set aside for you. I want to look out through that bedroom window! Is that my Grandpa coming up the walk? Is that my uncle’s car coming down the street?

I do believe it is.

Bonus Video: ‘Car 54’ Goes Musical

I’m feeling so much better now, and it’s put me in a good mood.

Car 54, Where Are You?, starring Joe E. Ross and Fred Gwynn, ran from 1961-63–a very funny comedy, and quite a hit for a while there.

Note the special lyrics they drummed up for We Belong to a Mutual Admiration Society: that song had a lot of staying power.

Great comedy, great song!

Memory Lane: ‘We Belong to a Mutual Admiration Society’

Going back, way back, all the way to 1956–remember this? Teresa Brewer had a big hit with We Belong to a Mutual Admiration Society. I was only a little shaver at the time–in fact, I didn’t shave at all–but I never quite forgot this song.

Dopes like to speak of the 1950s as a cultural dead zone: but check out this song. Actual music provided by actual musicians. Clever, witty lyrics. An absence of rancor.

I’m posting stuff like this for those of us who remember what it was like, and for those who are too young to have experienced it: to deliver the message that once upon a time, and not so long ago, things used to be a great deal better than they are now–and that it is, after all, possible to have a relatively clean popular culture that’s still a lot of fun.

Memory Lane: How Not to Build a Raft

Image result for homemade raft

Hey, it’s cold outside today! Which for some obscure reason has raised up a summer memory.

Once upon a blistering hot summer day, my friends and I decided to build a raft, a la Huckleberry Finn. This we did at one of those places that’s since been paved out of existence: a sluggish little stream that flowed through woods and meadows that some of the people living nearby used as a dumping ground for junk.

But for us, the discovery of an old wooden pallet, and some discarded tires, this was a treasure trove. I had recently seen, in Popular Mechanics, a plan for building a nice raft buoyed up by a tire under each corner. Actually, the raft floated on inner tubes; but some dumb kid–me–could only remember “tires. Yeah, tires!”

So we toiled in the heat, using scrap lumber to strengthen the pallet, and laboriously attaching an old tire to each corner under the raft. This was going to be great! Like, who knew where this stream would take us, once we were afloat? And of course anyone who chanced to see us would be torn between applause and envy.  We were going to have adventures!

At great cost in labor and sweat, we wrestled our glorious new raft into the water.

And it sank. Immediately. The old tires instantly filled with water and dragged our raft straight to the bottom before any of us could even set foot on it.

We were mystified! Tires are supposed to float. These just made a horrible glug-glug-glug noise and went straight to Davy Jones’ Locker.

And that’s how I learned the difference between a tire and an inner tube.

It was fun, though–enormous fun while we were building the wretched thing, our minds on fire with imagination. And we did get it built, albeit on a false premise of design. Dreams that don’t come true are still dreams.

 

The Narnia Children, Grown Up

Here are the four child stars from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the BBC version from the 1980s. The interview is about 12 minutes long; if you’re a Narnia freak like I am, you’ll enjoy it.

I’ve seen Edmund in a Poirot episode, and Peter in a Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes movie–the disappointingly bad one about the vampire.

Special Treat: Narnia Music

Geoffrey Burgon composed this theme music for the BBC’s much-loved adaptation of C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, back in the 1980s.

The beauty of this music never fails to move me, sometimes very close to tears. I think it’s because Aslan the Lion is, after all, meant to represent Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And the thought of being in His presence ought to move you.