The Unofficial Duke&Banner Autobiography

"CRIMINALS"

I should explain the numerous “Mc Giver” references that I’ve been making. McGiver was a character in a TV program in the 80’s. He was able to get out of any jam by building something out of whatever raw materials happened to be nearby. I didn’t watch it very much, but as I look back, I realize that it sorta parallels my life. Making something out of nothing.

And so, we open chapter 5 with the spring of ’64 in full bloom. But not necessarily a good bloom. The Brits had me surrounded! It wasn’t bad enough to be force-fed The Beatles. It wasn’t bad enough that I was force-fed Pip, now I had a whole new British mountain to climb, “A Tale Of Two Cities.” Jeez, we did win the war against the Brits, didn’t we?! And, just like the last Tome, this epic took place in the happy-go-lucky 1700’s. Jeez, how can I relate to something that took place in 1789? Needless to say, mentally, I was not prepared for this at all. All I could think about was how this was standing in the way of me learning a trade. The teach even went so far as to rent the movie, which we saw projected by our wonderful Bell & Howell Film-O-Sound Projector. The audio fidelity was about as good as a telephone. And all the players wore those powdered wigs. ICK!

Look, the 1935 movie is rated 4 stars by most reviewers. It has a cast of thousands, including Basil Rathbone. I like the guy. I can even tolerate his Sherlock Holmes movies. But couldn’t we find something, anything...that wasn’t British?!

Of course I had but yet another history class too. But Mr. Gaw was an OK guy. He realized that not everyone was totally excited about his subject, so he divided up the classroom and created the “Surf Contingent” (or was that the Serf Contingent?) At any rate, I was a proud member. There were about a dozen of us who went into a back room, away from the other kids. Our project for the semester was to answer 100 true-false questions. We could look in the book (the index was very handy) and listen to a radio while we researched! We divided up the questions and ended up getting a passing grade. Cool teach!

A new Rock station had just arrived. KHJ would take the top 40 and narrow it to the top 30. For the moment, everyone voted to keep it tuned to KFWB. Later, however, that thought would change. As it turns out, the kids enjoyed narrowing the playlist and banishing pop hits to the back burner. Yeah, KHJ still played Nancy Sinatra and Bobby Darin, but not very much. And KHJ’s commercial load was less, a programming idea that even excited lil ol' me.

I can’t tell you how happy I was on the last day of school. The summer of ’64 was waiting in the aisles, and judging from the music, I began to feel that somewhere out there...I was needed.

My report card was nothing to write home about, but I was ecstatic that I actually managed to earn a passing grade in English. This, despite an angry outburst that probably didn’t register too well with my teach. The fun started when Mrs. Kojaku (no relation to “Kojac” the TV show) pulled out a phonograph. Yup, the same model Newcomb that I fixed back in grade school. We were done with the heavily British “A Tale Of Two Cities,” and now it was time to explore a fine adaptation of Julius Caesar, with only the finest of British actors…emoting. Let’s see: what did I learn? Oh…I learned of a record company that I could hate: Cademon. They have a whole library of British plays. No sound effects, no music, just banks of fine British actors…emoting.

Shakespeare wrote his plays around 1500. There was no Enron to bilk electric users, toilets consisted of a hole in the ground, and running water didn’t run. If you had a cavity, a good Dentist had a pair of pliers and the pain medication consisted of a bottle of liquor. Many of the words used to describe things are not used today. They’ve been replaced. And with a thick English accent, it made the whole damn dialog undecipherable to me. In a word: Drivel! And so, what did I do? I lost it. Look, it was a hot day, and I lost it. I started banging on my desk:

When I finished my rant, I noticed that the teach’s eyes were rolling up somewhere toward the ceiling. Was she communicating with God? Was I going to Hell? More important: Did I get any support from my fellow idiots? Nope. Nada. Zilch. Total Silence. Our Lips Are Sealed. Even the guys in the back who had problems reading aloud were mute. You could hear a pin drop.* [C: 1986, Sprint]

I want to make a public “Thank You” here, to Mrs. Kojaku, the Wonder Woman who politely asked me to calm down. She informed me that it would only be a one-week study of “JC” and then it would be over. She didn't call the Principal; She didn't call the nurse; She didn't call God.

Anyway, it gave me time to practice my skill of burying my head on the desk. As long as my eyes stuck out and opened occasionally, and I didn’t snore, she managed to ignore me. If there were grades in the fine art of desk-napping, I’d probably get an “A.” After I saw my report card, I thanked her for the “C-" It could have been worse. And anyway, it was better than the straight “D” that I would eventually get in next year’s English Class!

Side Note: I realize that I may be making quite a few readers angry. In researching, I discovered that those really fine Caedmon records get played almost daily on NPR stations nationwide. Fine! I really do believe in free speech. And on the radio, people like me can have to option of turning it off. In fact, maybe I should run down and make a donation to KRCB, the people who think we're too boisterous. On second thought, maybe not…

Nope, you can’t keep a good man down for very long. After a week of enjoying my vacation, I began to realize the Squeaky Beatles were being played on the average of 5 tunes per hour. Make that the same 5 tunes, every hour. I began to seriously think about broadcasting again.

A new type of chain store had opened up in nearby low-overhead Monrovia. It was a chain store dedicated to electronically-inclined kids. Yes, Radio Shack had made its way from Texas, all the way to California. And so I waltzed in to see what they carried. One thing that immediately caught my eye: 3-foot long aluminum poles that connected together. The more you connected, the taller the pole. Normally used to support TV antennas on a roof, my mind quickly conjured up the possibilities. The price was $1.79 per pole a little steep for me at the time, but this looked like just what I needed. And so I grabbed 4 of them and went to the counter. Ahh...but it wasn’t that easy. It came in the form of a curious counter person in a 3 piece suit, the Radio Shack corporate directive:

“Wow! What are you building? Why do you need 4 of these? Reception is pretty good in this area.”

Therein, I learned rule #1:

Actual application of Rule #1:

“Ahh, I’m…I live in the mountains.” (Boy, did I stumble over that line)
“Oh really? What town?” The counter person grinned.
“Ahh—Oh, Big Bear.”

What was this, an FBI investigation?

"Big Bear? I don’t think there’s any reception up there."
“I—Um, still want to try.” (I sorta became dominant.)

My knees buckled as he finally rang up the cash register. As I carried the poles back to my Dad’s ‘58 Chevy Station Wagon, my mind wandered off to an old TV series from the 50’s called “I Led Three Lives.” Richard Carlson was continually being grilled by these really bad Communists. Every week, those awful Commies would suspend a hot light bulb over Carlson’s head and grill him. It was just amazing how my life at that moment paralleled the series.

In doing some research, I discovered there’s not a whole lot of information out there on “I Led Three Lives,” though I discovered a link that covers the star, Richard Carlson fairly well. It even has some photos. The photo we included here is not from the TV series, though it is a dead ringer of many of the scenes from that TV series.

We Know It's Hard To Believe, But The Guy On The Left (Carlson) Is The Good Guy. Yeah, He's Smoking A Cig, Yeah, He Looks Nervous, And He Has A Gun...But Damn It, Look At All Those Secret Documents The Commies Have Spread Out All Over The Bed. And One Of Those Documents Might Just Say Something Really Bad About A Republican! We Can't have That!! Richard Carlson Photo Courtesy Of: Brian's Drive-in Theatre.

The classic scene, however, would be Carlson (Inspector Herb Philbrick,) with his jacket off, tie pulled off, and his white shirt wet from sweat. He would be tied up in a chair, and the Commies would “torture” him by throwing their alcoholic drinks in his face.

Technical question: Why do Hollywood movies that contain an alcohol scene always show the alcoholee obtaining perfectly formed ice cubes for his drink from a conveniently placed jar? When I need an ice cube for my soda, I have to get up and go to the refrigerator. I don’t have a bar, and there’s no maid to fill up a jar when the ice melts! Are there any Duke&Banner listeners who can afford this, or is it just me...too poor to have ice cube service?

There were many “death threats” against Inspector Philbrick in the series, like the electrocution threat of an extension cord wrapped around his leg. All they had to do was plug in the cord, but they were never successful. Good always triumphs! Special Agent Henderson was waiting in the wings to rescue Philbrick.

Carlson would spend alot of time talking to himself. Sorta like a guy who has voices in his head. The voices would go something like: "OK Philbrick...we're in a big bind now! What if they discover that I'm really a secret angent for the FBI?! Oh, worse Philbrick...What if my boss discovers that I actually voted Democrat in the last election?"

The series fit like a glove on Senator McCarthy’s “Commie Under Every Bed” routine, and may have been devised to protect a few Hollywood boys from the good senator’s guillotine. Most of the episodes were written by (of all people) Gene Roddenberry. Yes, the guy who gave you the racially mixed and liberal leaning "Star Trek," also gave you "I Led Three Lives."

Philbrick showed us that The Commies were a hidden clique, and called each other “Comrades.” They were out to destroy America, and some of their targets, under Roddenberry’s pen, were our very fine churches. In one episode, a Comrade is caught before he torches the church. The viewer gets the idea that Commies are running around, burning down one church at a time, and the FBI is usually there to prevent the event. Some episodes even suggested that viewers should call the FBI if they see anyone who looks “suspicious.”

The irony in all this is that church torchings were happening at that time in real life. But not by the left-leaning Commies; just the opposite. Right-wing White KKK guys were burning down Black churches in wholesale lots, upset that blacks were actually getting organized, and might even vote. Information recently released by the Freedom Of Information Act points to FBI Cheese J Edgar Hoover as APPROVING, and maybe even ORGANIZING the church-burning events. But then you also have to point the finger at the production company, Ziv TV. Out of 100 episodes, not one Black person appeared. All actors were White; all wore suits and ties. Which leads us to the next colorful and patriotic table.

Another one of Roddenbery’s (McCarthy’s?) common themes was those bad labor unions. They were all headed by Commies, and whenever they went on strike, they did so to “Destroy America.” Face it: If Meathead from “All In The Family” were alive in the 50’s, he’d be #1 on McCarthy’s hit list. What was considered “Commie” then, is your basic “Democrat” today.

One last thought about the FBI: Way back in the 70’s, rumors began to surface that J. Edgar enjoyed…well…ahh...Gee, how do I say this? He enjoyed wearing dresses! The story made it all the way to mainstream newscasts as a humorous end-of-program story, but was never proven. You’ll read in another part of this website that McCarthy’s favorite sidekick was a wonderful man named Roy Cohn [pronounced: Cone] Just before Cohn died, he confessed to a Gay newspaper that he was Gay, and wanted to apologize for all the harm he did. Unfortunately the article stopped short in documenting if he had a relationship, but could it be? J. Edgar and our boy Roy were…lovers? Oh my! I’m getting a sour stomach just thinking about them rubbing their neatly pressed suits together. ICK!

Even worse: If Cohn was from Utah, it could have been a threesome. Double ICK! (Last minute note: as I write this, Rat is telling me he remembers the Cohn article as stating that it was a relationship between he and McCarthy.) (Yeah but Rat, what about J. Edgar?!)

And so as the warm summer sun started to set on a wonderful July night, and most kids were cooking up plans to steal hubcaps from their neighbor’s car, I was in the back yard, nailing lightweight aluminum poles to my 20-foot vertical 2X4. Wrapping the feed wire around the nail, the combined length of the new antenna now measured a whopping 32 feet. I wasted no time in firing up the rig, putting on a set of records and going for a walk. With the Arvin wailing away, the new antenna carried The Flamingos to a totally new location, never before reached. Yes, the antenna was a success. My first success. I was proud! Very proud but…Hark, is that a siren I hear?

I decided to celebrate, so I walked over to Bob’s house to tell him the news. The signal was still not strong enough to make it there, and I stopped dead in my tracks as I entered his room, escorted by his Ma. Yeah, he was laying horizontal. That was OK. But his radio was on. His FM radio. What was on, do you ask? A Caedmon album! It was yet another fine British play called “Waiting For Godot.” No Sound Effects, just actors in thick accents…emoting.

“What is that?” I harked.
“Oh, it’s a wonderful play,” Bob gleamed.
"Wonderful?" My nose curled up.
“Yeah! They sit on the ground and wait for their friend Godot to arrive. But he doesn’t arrive, and they spend hours doing nothing...but emote.”

Hence, I beseech you Bob...what sounds art thou casting upon my window pain? Of course, they are: ICK! Nay, be not obtuse, they are: DOUBLE ICK! Hark, but doth thou still hold? Yes! TRIPLE ICK!!!