King Of The Wild Frontier ~ Part Three

We were ordered out of the house and banished from TV all of the time. At least it seemed that way. The adults had obtained an effective tool of control and punishment. We always made more of a big deal out of it than was really deserved though. You have to make parents think that they are effective or they get squirrely and mean spirited. The idea is to moan, whine and complain all the way to the back door. Once outside…freedom reigns. There were no thoughts about real dangers in the community in those days. First of all, the neighbors were all extensions of the family. Everyone knew you and had a reading on wrongdoing from kids and strangers alike. The United States had not yet moved from the front porch to the backyard so people were actually interacting with each other right on the street level. Secondly, kids had the ability to become invisible in those days. There was an internal cloaking devise that allowed us to be unseen whenever we wished. We got caught only when we made the mistake of not turning it on. Some kids had better cloaking than others. Mine was almost perfect. And last but not least, we were army guys, Indian fighters, cops, firemen and super heroes. We were fighting crime and evil. Who would dare mess with us? We were invincible as we went where we pleased on bikes (without helmets), played tackle football (without helmets), fell out of trees, jumped off rooftops with capes (oops!), swam unsupervised (and sometimes naked) in filthy Lake Vermilion, constructed elaborate forts in the woods with sharp Boy Scout knives and sometimes shot each other with real BB Guns (not good). All we had to do was holler in the door our destination and we were good at least until the next meal. Yelling through the screen words like “Going to the woods” or “Going to Gary’s” would elicit responses that gave us a free pass. We faintly heard the reply “Don’t be late for dinner” or “You boys be good”. We were halfway down the block and in mid-adventure already.

My cousin Steve, buddy Scott Golden, me and cousin Dave

with a freshly caught Bluegill from Lake Vermilion.

I donned my Skipper Chuck hat.

The summer of 1958 brought expanded freedom for me. I was allowed to go beyond the imagined limits of parental control to meet kids at the further reaches of our neighborhood. Gary Cox had moved in across the street, Steve Magin lived two doors down from him. Gary and I quickly became great friends. We were in the same classroom in 2nd grade. Magin came into the fold through a fight. Some of us had been playing baseball in Golden’s side yard when two strange boys approached from the alley. We stopped play and gawked. Who dared invade our domain? Without a second thought I picked up an apple and threw it at them. They returned fire…but with ROCKS! Heathens! Interlopers! A spirited battle began. Ammunition was getting thin so we ran to the apple tree to get more missiles. Some adult must have intervened because they were gone when we got back. The nerve! It was the next day when I met Steve face-to-face. The encounter was friendly. I asked him where his brother was and he replied that it was not his brother but a friend from school. “What school?” I asked. “St. Paul’s.” came the reply (Oh, man! A Catholic kid even). Anyway, one thing led to another and we were practically inseparable. Steve’s Dad was the engineer and genius at our local TV station WDAN as I mentioned before. It’s funny, but I was always afraid to ask Mr. Magin anything about how TV worked. I guess I didn’t want to know the secrets.

The Vast Land of Our Adventures

Gary CoxSteve Magin

Imagination went to new extremes with the help of television.  You could take on the persona of anyone that had appeared on screen and develop them with your friends at will.  Superman made regular appearances on West Winter Ave.  The Battle of The Little Bighorn was fought often.  We sometimes had to find little kids to play the part of Indians.  Nobody wanted to be the enemy very much so we would commandeer them.  The enemy was certainly not confined to Indians.  They were often Nazi's, Japanese, or supervillians such as Lex Luthor.  Good guys wore white hats.  Bad guys wore black ones.  No question about who was who back then.  And the good guys ALWAYS won.  Our idols were easy to find.  Mickey Mantle was already in contention for the new God of baseball with 42 home runs in 1958.  Zeke Bratkowski, a Danville boy, was the QB for the Chicago Bears.  Everything was simple, cut and dried.

We played kick-the-can and flashlight tag until bedtime and were forced to come back inside by the very parents who had kicked us out.  They just couldn't resist messing with us I guess.  Sometimes there would be "Just-One-More TV Show" before turning in.  Little did we know what great things were going to happen soon.  Mark Faulkner would have his ninth birtday party LIVE right on Sheriff Sid's TV show with his good buddies (including me) invited. 

Sheriff Sid

The intriguing world of late night television was also just around the corner the following year in fourth grade.  It was then and there that MarBoJo came to be.

Mark Faulkner, Bobby Jones and Joey Cooke

Intermission...Don't Go Away!