The Unofficial Duke&Banner Autobiography

"CRIMINALS"

When we left you last week, I had made some comments about my peach fuzz. Oddly enough, that peach fuzz grew during my 3-month summer vacation to monumental proportions. It was 1963, before anyone knew about the mopped-head Beatles, who would eventually grow beards and start a trend.

As September rolled in, I had a coal-black beard down to my chest. Not bad for a 15 year old! Wherever I went, I got stares…and some not exactly the friendly-looking kind. These days if a kid grew a beard, he’d be personally escorted to the nearest FBI Headquarters and get to enjoy intense interrogations on suspicion of being a Muslim Terrorist.

Since we will be getting into some technical stuff starting in this chapter we decided to do another colorful and
information-packed table, at no charge to you:

Summer vacation found a new store opening up in Duarte. A store that would help me achieve my status as Public Enemy Number One with the Feds. Duarte Electronics was run by a man called Pappy Dow. Dow had just sold his electronic component & military surplus store in Pasadena. It was within walking distance of Cal Tech University and Pasadena City College, both of which bought lots of parts for projects. Pappy Dow sold the business at a high profit, and set sail for Low-Overhead Duarte.

And so, as mid-summer approached, and I realized my free days were about to end, I set upon a scientific discovery: Which is more important? Upping the power of the transmitter, or increasing the length of the antenna? It was a physical impossibility to build a 200-foot tall antenna, but maybe a horizontal antenna would suffice. I bought 200 feet of wire from Dow and called Bob over for help. Dow also sold me a used Amateur Radio book, packed with lots of information on transmitters for Ham Radio operators. Though it didn’t cover the AM Broadcast Band, a lot of the information was helpful.

Now, what to do with 200 feet of wire on a square lot that is less than 100 feet? No problem! The wire stretched from the garage, to the back yard fence, over the roof of the house, wrapped around a tree in the front yard, and finally terminated on a rusty nail that was holding up the mailbox by the street.

Bob mused in his usual boisterous self: “Duke, what if you electrocute the postman? You’ll be doing 30 years in Sing-Sing!” It was a good joke. There wasn’t enough power to kill a flea. And so, I put on a record and Bob walked down the block with my Arvin. For the first time, I also had a microphone connected to announce songs. Nope, can’t say that it was a success. If anything, the signal was a little weaker. Maybe some Guardian Angel was protecting our postman. I removed the wire from the mailbox and continued to read my radio book. It would appear that McGuiver had run out of gas.

With the summer waning away, I spent the final days enjoying the beautiful LA “river.” It flows through the outskirts of Duarte. Many a film has had a scene or two shot at the LA River, which usually looks like a lot of concrete and a trench full of water. The infamous scene of Biker Arnie Schwarzenegger, being chased by a mad trucker in the movie “Terminator II” was shot there. It also made its way into lots of those 70's Quinn-Martin detective shows. When Barnaby Jones chased a car, chances are it ended up with the bad guy cascading down an embankment to the concrete below.

But the Duarte end of the river was totally different. It was mostly dirt. And a little scary. You had to pass under the 100,000-volt power lines to get to the water. They buzzed and crackled. And if an arc headed down my way, I would immediately light up like a Christmas Tree.

I can’t tell you how angry I was when Vice Principal White broke the news to me in cold, direct monotones: “Not enough people signed up for Electronics Class, so there won’t be one this year. Choose another elective.”

I want to quote page 8 of my 1966 “Halconado,” the book for kids who actually graduated Duarte High School, as written by the Rich and Highly Paid Board Of Education. And I quote: “Because of scientific advances…a deep belief in the fundamental truths will be essential…to your survival. Will you accept the challenge and responsibility in the guidance of your country? Or will you be content to have the destinies shaped by others?”

What a bunch of crap! Guys, while you went out and had an elegant dinner at some fancy restaurant, padding yourselves on the back for a good year, I was having my “destinies” shaped by the “others” that worked under you, whether I liked it or not. Destinies? Is that a real word? Should I diagram that sentence? Is Destinies a Verb or an Adjective? Where is the Adverb? Excuse me; I have to grab a piece of paper and work on some sentence diagrams….

And yes, thanks to my abusive upbringing, I remained mostly compliant through my sophomore year, though I was getting close to the edge. And as it turns out, there actually was somebody who was having a worse year than me, and that situation made itself known on the day that all radio and TV stations throughout the country suspended regular broadcasts. November 22, 1963. As Jack Webb would say: “It was a Friday in Los Angeles. A rainy sky usually meant crime would take the day off. But this week, that wasn’t going to happen.” Dum De Dum Dum.

Quite a few of us sat in the Duarte High School library. The librarian had a radio on. It didn’t matter which station, they were all reporting the same story: The assassination of President John F. Kennedy. John's brother, Robert F. Kennedy would meet his own similar destinies in a few years.

I truly believe, as do a lot of others, that Lee Harvey Oswald was a fall guy. That perhaps some secret government conspiracy operation organized it. There are many smoking guns that surround Kennedy’s assassination. The facts that the Warren Commission admitted that they hid information from the public; the convenient killing of Kennedy’s alleged killer, moments after he was apprehended by the police; and others connected to JFK dying from mysterious circumstances..

All brushed off as “conspiracy theories” by the Warren Commission. But consider this: With the way news operates in this country, any government agency can get away with murder if they really wanted to. Consider this: All news organizations view law enforcement and government entities as “the good guys” and pretty much take whatever they are told as truth unless it becomes obvious.

So, let’s do a hypothetical case. Let’s say that an executive who makes those million-dollar missiles wants to start a war so he can sell more missiles. He has some friends in Iran, who approach a Muslim leader and they bargain for a dozen suicide bombers.

The suicide guys go for a few months training. They learn that if they shave off their beards, no American will think that they are bad guys. (Unfortunately, this is so true!) A year later, they smash a jet into a skyscraper. The FBI comes in and says the suicide bombers were from Afghanistan. The media buys it hook, line and sinker. No debate. That is unfortunately, how the media news organizations operate. And it supports the possibility that Kennedy may well have been assassinated just so some corporation could make more money.

As a result of the Kennedy assassination, we were all sent home early. Yeah!!! But when reality set in, I fantasized: if only I had a time machine. I could go back and save his life. God, I wish I could have done that, but, unfortunately McGiver ain’t that smart yet.

For a week, all radio and TV stations had suspended regular programming. For some record companies, it was a boon; for others, quite a bust. Within a week, stores were flooded with albums. Premier Albums, a cheap knock-off company, bought a one hour broadcast tape from WMCA in New York, put a huge picture of Kennedy on the front with the words “A Memorial Album.” They distributed them to drug stores, supermarkets, and/or any other store that would carry them. At $1.99, the first pressing of 100,000 sold out in a week.

Anthony Newley, a British version of our Frank Sinatra (ICK!) asked London Records to release “Tribute,” which he had composed a day after the assassination. According to Fred Foster, cheese at our own Monument Records, any special release from London had to be approved by the Queen Mum, and she wasn’t buying it. She’s probably a Taurus! Undaunted, Anthony quickly formed Acappella Records and overnight shipped 10,000 copies to every radio station in America. KFWB started playing it on December 1^st, and it quickly moved up to #1 in requests. I have no idea what happened nationally, but in January on the Billboard Hot 100, this little ditty peaked at a dismal #105. Christmas music came late that year.

Another company, Cadence, unfortunately went bankrupt. They weren’t doing to well before the assassination. The Everly Bros went over to Warner Bros. and Andy Williams found a new home at Columbia. The #1 comedy album for months had been “The First Family” with Vaughan Meader playing President Kennedy. Today, it is still listed as one of the biggest selling comedy records of all time. Unfortunately, Cadence was sure they had a winner with the next First Family album, and had pressed another 100,000 copies of Volume 2, ready to go out the door. The copies reached the record stores on the day Kennedy was shot. Needless to say, they didn’t sell one copy. No one wanted to laugh. That was the last gasp of Archie Bleyer’s Cadence Record label. In Bankruptcy, Andy Williams ended up buying all the masters and created Barnaby Records, which continued to re-issue all the cadence hits until well into the eighties. Barnaby also managed to score twice at the coveted number 1 spot with original hits by Ray Stevens. It’s a toss-up as to which one was a bigger hit: “Everything Is Beautiful” in 1970 or “The Streak” in 1974. Both are considered totally unsafe oldies these days, even though they sold millions.

We will touch on my personal history of this in a later chapter. No, it’s not what you think! (Is this a teaser or what?)

Robert Opel picture courtesy streakerama.com

	Q: Just about everyone can identify the man in the bottom part of this photo as David Niven. But just who is that guy behind him?
	His name is Robert Opel. That's him "streaking" at the Academy Awards TV show, which made him an enemy of the feds, just like me, although for different reasons. Our lives will cross in a weird way in a future chapter.

As the spring of ’64 arrived, I began to realize that The Beatles had taken over. KFWB sponsored a special one-time-only show that I absolutely had to listen to. Promos ran for a week. Sportscaster Cleve Herman, who never spun a record in his life, hosted his “I Hate The Beatles” program. He played lots of R&B and Rock. Bobby Rydell, The Orlons, I think he even threw in a Paul Anka record, and registered his distaste of The Beatles. I’m sure it was the lowest rated show in KFWB history! But I totally agreed: The Beatles in 1964 were very tinny & sounded awful. Not that the songs were all that bad (hmmm, that’s debatable) but you could totally disconnect your Woofer and not hear any change in the fidelity. I’ll bet the Recording Engineer was a Taurus! Absolutely no sensitivity!!

Cleve Herman photo courtesy: Sheff

But yet another Buchannan & Goodman-type record. This one takes aim at Boxer Sonny Liston and never was played outside of KFWB	Cleve Herman in the flesh. He's the one with the eye patch. The brand new 1958 chevy from Enoch Chevrolet will be used as a competition car on a stock car track.

Well, maybe it was time to soup up the transmitter. After all, one tube is tiny cant do all the work. The first transmitter was built in the chassis of what was once a radio. It was rusty and had lots of extra parts hanging on in all directions. I wanted a new box, without rust.

A professional aluminum box would run about $5.00. That was a little beyond my meager means. So I looked around. In the kitchen. Deep in the kitchen. You know...my Mom’s bread pan was just about the perfect size! All I had to do was drill it out and mount the tubes with all the other parts!

After working at it for a few hours in the garage, Bob wondered in, and began to laugh.

Unfortunately McGiver didn’t think this one out too well before proceeding. No, it’s not what you think---my Mom was delighted that I took her prized bread pan and started drilling holes! But what I didn’t consider (and Bob was quick to burst into laughter) was the thinness of the pan. Boy, those things are thin! And so the end result was a tube pointing in an eastward direction, while a filter capacitor seemed to be facing a little more towards the west. Another tube faced north while my tuning capacitor faced south. In other words, it spanned all directions! Bob continued to laugh. Suddenly my Mom opened the read door of the house and asked in pear-shaped tones: "You don't know where my baking pan is, do you?" Uhhh…Not a good day for McGiver…