Its One o’clock…

I am a child of the television revolution. I spent most of my free waking, childhood moments watching movies, cartoons, sit-coms, game shows and anything else that was of interest to a young mind. Now, mind you, there were only 4 channels available at the time. One of my favorites was a local movie and commentary show hosted by Mr. Bill Kennedy.

At 1’ O clock his theme song “Just in Time” would play and Mr. Kennedy would introduce the movie. The show aired on  our Canadian border station of CKLW on weekdays and Sunday afternoons.

Bill Kennedy would present movies and interject comments and insights. Some of the “pictures” as he called them, were horrible and he never hesitated for a moment to warn the viewers. Going as far as putting clothes pins on his nose and calling the movie “a real dog….woof!”

He would also often do “live” interviews with local and visiting celebrities. His most well known being a phone interview with John Wayne in 1976 while he was finishing the movie “The Shootist.“ There was also an infamous Frank Sinatra Jr.  phone conversation that ended quite abruptly. I remember chats with comedians, singers, and other performers as well.

Williard Kennedy was born June 27th 1908. He had been  an actor in Hollywood and in the 1940’s was under contract to Warner Brothers. In 1956 he left Hollywood and returned to the Detroit area to begin Bill Kennedy at the Movies. In an 1975 article in Cream magazine he said “I’m not an actor and I have 60 movies to prove it.”

In 1948, he appeared with Ingrid Bergman in the movie  “Joan Of Arc” as one of her executioners. Where he uttered the immortal line, “we need some more faggots!” A line over which he argued against. Kennedy also performed with Cary Grant in “Destination Tokyo.” However, he is best known as the announcer at the beginning of the Superman Television show. “Yes, it’s Superman…”

I directly relate my love of old movies and “old Hollywood” to his commentaries. If callers asked a question that he could not answer, he would refer to his “Fabulous Files.”  His wit was legendary and I believe he coined the phrase, “Behind every great man, there’s a woman with a great behind!” His collection of files were donated to the Detroit Institute of Art in 1987.

Bill Kennedy retired to Florida in 1983 and passed away in 1997. He will always have a special place in the vast Broadcasting history of Detroit. Having met him once or twice, he was always a gentleman. I know I have great reverence and respect for his unique style and panache. 

Some links you might enjoy...

Bill Kennedy at the Movies 

News Article

Detroit Memories 

Kennedy Video

 

Boomer Christmas Memories

Some of my very favorite memories of Christmas have nothing to do with the cost of presents. In fact, most of the best of these tales have nothing at all to do with money. 

The sights and smells of my holiday have changed considerably over the years.

I am far too busy to stay at home and bake homemade goodies. In the 1960’s my mother had a litany of Christmas cookies, candies and even fruitcake. As she progressed in age, she felt guilty that she did not have the energy and time to prepare these. Especially her “Swedish Gems” cookies. Hers was the only fruitcake known to man, that did not cause recipients to run away in horror!

In the very early years of my childhood, after I had been adopted by my father and moved into the Edgevale house. Christmas eve was a very busy event as we always visited friends and neighbors. Of coarse, that was back when people actually purchased  put their trees up on Christmas eve. It was also a time when everyone knew all their neighbors. 

The older, more established neighbors  had a sort-of open house with lots of food and drink. Mother made either fruitcake or her famous Swedish gem cookies, which she presented in colorful holiday tins. She would get dressed up in her finest holiday gear  and we always ate too much and laughed and talked and shared.

In 1963, My mother worked keeping books for the man across the way who owned a five and dime shop after his wife suffered a stroke. Mother scrimped and saved every extra bit of money. She brought a baby doll, and lots of scraps of different fabric, from which she made and entire layette for my “baby Susie” as I named her. Daddy made a darling little rocking cradle for her and mother painted it pink.

In 1965, My father was laid off from his job at Chrysler and had to resort to driving a cab and tending bar. Both of these jobs were working for good family friends who knew my daddy needed a job and would work hard. Mom supplemented her income by working cleaning local houses. I now remember how very unhappy this made my father. However, we managed to have a very joyous Christmas. 

The Christmas of 1968, I managed to save a bit of money from my first real job at the five and dime and went shopping at Sears and Roebuck. I bought my mother a lovely blue woolen scarf and matching gloves. I brought daddy a nice red tartan plaid woolen shirt. Both of these items were $5.00 each. I even bought a Beatles album (I think Sgt Pepper?) for my best friend and a new dog dish for our poodle, Pierre.

By the time the 70s came around I was in high school and abhorred spending time with any member of my family. By then all of our established neighbors had moved to the suburbs or passed away.  We were the very last to leave our little subdivision. Soon, I would  have a family of my own. Being in the Air Force, we always seemed to be elsewhere for the holidays. On the years we did make it home, we had to endure no less than 4 Christmas dinners.

Which brings us to the present. My children have grown and have busy lives of their own. We seldom spend the holidays together. My hubby and I usually spend  December 24th and 25th working. This year, for the first time in years, he will be home and available until after the new year. We will have a quiet Christmas eve with our 4-legged-children enjoying our fireplace, some brandy and most likely, an episode of Sherlock Holmes.

I wish all my readers and friends the very best holiday! I would love to hear from you, please feel free to leave comments. See you in 2012!

Any man can be a Father

What is the difference between a father and a dad? Any man can be a father. A  dad stays up all night when you have the flu. He buys you a cute pair of jammies when you have been in bed with the mumps. He picks you up gently from his bed and carries you to your own when he gets home from working at 6 am. He drives you all the way to your favorite record store when a new Beatles album comes out.

My dad adopted me when he and my mother married. I was 3 years old. My mother had been divorced from my biological father. My uncle frequented the bar where my dad worked weekends to supplement his income as a plant guard for Chrysler. My uncle introduced them one evening and it was love at first sight according to both.

I went everywhere with my dad. I learned to love hardware and Army/Navy surplus stores. My dad and I used to ride around town in his Chrysler. Everywhere we went folks would say, “She looks just like you!” My daddy would always wink.

My father had a college education and had joined the Army Air Corps during the war.  He literally could do anything. He could take a car apart and put it back together. He could do electrical wiring and repair plumbing. He was a math genius. Not to mention he could grow any vegetable  from seed. He taught me to think for myself. He believed in God, but abhorred organized religion. He raised me Catholic and sent me to parochial school, even though he did not agree with the theology.

He was a quiet man and very moral. Only rarely did I hear a “cuss” word out of him. He had the most wonderful garden in all the neighborhood. My mother spent much time after the harvest, canning and freezing vegetables for the winter. All of the other weekend farmers envied his green thumb.

I never knew either of my own Grandfathers. My children used to work in the garden with grandpa and they both have wonderful memories of that time. He was a huge influence on them. They talk about working all day for $1. Of coarse, he would take them to Toys R Us, or out for ice cream to supplement.

When my dad had open heart surgery the year before his death, I came to the small farm to take care of him while he recovered. We very rarely spoke at that time and his family hated my very existence. I was glad to get a chance to re-connect and for him to acknowledge that I was not the person he thought I was. We had some wonderful conversations about many subjects.  We spoke about my mother for the first time since she passed. He told me about her last minutes with tears in his eyes. He told me that he loved me and called me his daughter. I knew he meant it.

I miss my dad very much and remember him fondly.  I’m glad we had a chance to clear the air. My mother was his very best friend. They loved to “gallivant.“ When he retired and they moved south, they very often spent the day shopping, going to flea markets, or visiting local attractions together. I know somewhere, somehow they are out there gallivanting through the universe.