A Blog of the Ridiculous and Sublime, by Mark Sackler
“There are three things you can do in a baseball game. You can win, you can lose, or it can rain.”–Casey Stengel
brrrrr
Unfortunately, there is a fourth thing that can happen. It can snow. And as that is exactly what it is currently doing outside my window right now, I thought I’d get a head start on this coming Sunday’s Major League Baseball opener and give spring some encouragement. Stay warm and dry, my friends.
This article appeared yesterday under a different title as my monthly guest post on The Blog of Funny Names.
Buffalo Bob: “What time is it?”
Peanut Gallery: “It’s Howdy Doody Time!”
Buffalo Bob Smith and Howdy Doody, c. 1955
My age is showing, but what the %#@. If you’re an American baby boomer the name Howdy Doody (1947-1960) is synonymous with seminal children’s television–perhaps the most recognized name of 1950’s kiddie fare. If you happen to be be a boomer of a certain age–over sixty too many years old–you might just recall another oddball TV name from that era: Winky Dink (1953-1957).
For you uninitiated, uncultured whippersnappers, I’ll elaborate.
Howdy Doody–In the 1940’s, a Buffalo New York native, Bob Smith, created the character Howdy Doody for a WNBC radio program. The popularity of the program led him to make the move to television in 1947. the program featured both human and puppet characters, which included:
Flub-A-Dub. What happens when puppeteers get high.
.
.
Phineas T. Bluster. Politics hasn’t changed.
Perhaps the most interesting sidebar to the entire Howdy Doody run on NBC, was an ongoing battle between Smith and puppet-maker Frank Paris. Paris made the original Howdy Doody puppet and complained constantly of being cheated out of royalties. Howdy Doody dolls were all the rage, and Bob Smity owned the property rights to the character. You’ve heard the phrase”I’ll take my football and go home?” Well on more than one occasion, the irate Smith took his Howdy Doody puppet from the studio and went home. Problem. The show was aired live in those pre-video tape days, forcing a last minute plot and script change making excuses for why Howdy wasn’t around.
By the way, the term Peanut Gallery, actually dates to Vaudeville. It referred to the cheapest seats where the cheapest snack–peanuts–were sold. But most of us today know the term from The Howdy Doody Show, which resurrected it for the live studio audience of kids.
Winky Dink–The name Jack Barry will forever live in TV infamy, for his roll in rigging the game show Twenty-One. It lead to congressional hearings, national disgrace, and ultimately the book and movie Quiz Show. What only a few of us who were watching kiddie TV in the mid-1950’s will remember, though, was that he was the host of a quirky live and animated program Winky Dink and You.
Long before twitter and other social media, Winky Dink was probably the first interactive TV show, though in the most lo-tech of manners. The show featured Barry interacting with the cartoons projected beside him. The interaction with audience was by means of a coded message or connect the dots puzzle, that could only be read by writing directly on the TV, or rather on a clear plastic film covering the TV. Problem. You had to send in to the network to get the clear plastic film, or Magic Window, as they called it. I didn’t have one and I couldn’t bear the suspense of not knowing what that image or message was, so I finally took a crayon and wrote, sans clear film, directly on our ancient TV screen. My mother was not pleased. Let’s just say, Howdy Doody, I got my Winky Dinked!
This post appears today, under a different title, as my monthly guest post on The Blog of Funny Names.
“I saw a snake having sex with a vulture and, I thought, it’s just business as usual in Washington, DC.”–Jarod Kintz
There may be plenty of snakes and vultures in Washington, DC, but when it comes to flat out, upfront political lewdness, give me the good old American heartland. Because the best political names–funny and lewd–are out there in the hinterland. Consider these two, if you will.
Harry William Baals–(b. Nov. 16., 1886, d. May 9, 1954), was the Republican mayor of Ft. Wayne, Indiana from 1934-1947 and from 1951 until his death in 1954.
Harry Baals. Somebody in Ft. Wayne has a sense of humor.
The obvious double entendre on Baals name has been a source of much consternation in his home town. In the more innocent Ozzie and Harriet climate of the 1950’s, Harry Baals Drive was named after him. It has since been renamed H.W. Baals drive. That’s a shame, but it’s still funnier than George H.W. Bush drive. (There has to be a Bush and Baals joke in there someplace, but you figure it out.)
More recently, in 2011, the city of Fort Wayne held an online vote to name its new government center, and the public overwhelmingly voted for The Harry Baals Government Center–in fact, more then ten times as many votes as any other name. The horrified city fathers reneged on the contest and simply named the building Citizen’s Square. But perhaps the worst slight to the memory of this great man–or at least to his great name–is that his ancestors have taken to pronouncing Baals as Bales. That’s downright un-American. They will all be blacklisted immediately on The Blog of Funny Names.
At any rate, Baals died from a kidney infection during his final term in office. You can only surmise if it might have been brought on by scratching–well, you know.
Wankard Pooser–(b. Sept. 27, 1893, d. Feb. 22, 1978), was a firebrand in the Florida state legislature in the 1940’s. Pooser was elected to the first of his two terms in 1945, apparently on the merits of his sole campaign promise, which was to vote against every single bill put before the legislature while in office. He lived up to that promise in his first term, though that did not stop him from introducing a bill, which was a proposal for an amendment to the state constitution to abolish the legislature. He suggested that by transferring all of the legislature’s powers to the governor, much time and money would be saved. You’ve got to love a politician who proposed to outlaw politicians! Unfortunately for Pooser, the amendment went nowhere, as did his subsequent political path. In his second term he broke his “all no votes” promise–just one single time–and promptly lost his seat when he ran for a third term. Undeterred, he attempted a comeback in 1952. He lost. One can only conclude that his given name appropriately described his career. (If you don’t get it, look up the definition of the British slang term “wank.”)
It seems that the national Republican party of that era missed out on one of the greatest photo ops of all time. If these two had been at the top of their 1948 presidential ticket, that famous newspaper headline might have read Wankard and Baals defeat Truman!
“Said Conrad Cornelius O’Donald O’Dell, my very young friend who is learning to spell…”–Dr. Seuss (On Beyond Zebra)
This post appears today on The Blog of Funny Names
It has been previously reported in these pages that this author’s interest in funny names began way back in middle school in the mid 1960’s with the creation of a list of the 50 wackiest names in baseball history.
This report was wrong. It’s true that my best friend of that era and I did create such a list. But my seminal interest in funny names lore predated even that, going way back to elementary school in the late 1950’s. My favorite book at that age, you see, was an amazing tome by one Theodore Seuss Geisel, AKA Dr. Seuss.
I have often said that while others are encouraged to think outside the box, I have often found it downright difficult to think inside the box, and I’m pretty sure this habit started with the Seuss classic, On Beyond Zebra. And while an earlier post on this blog chronicled Charles Dickens as the greatest master of funny names in English Literature, Dr. Seuss deserves similar recognition in the milieu of children’s literature.
I could go on and on regarding any number of Seussian monikers, like Gertrude McFuzz, Ziggy Zozzfozzel or Gerald McBoing-Boing. But one book stands alone–On Beyond Zebra–as the absolute gold standard of funny names in children’s literature. In fact, it contained names so outre he invented new letters of the alphabet with which to spell them.
In all 20 new creatures made this alphabet quorum, from YUZZ-A-MA-TUZZ to HIGH GARGEL-ORUM. For the most part they seemed and sounded quite dumbus, like FLUM is for FLUMMEL and WUM is for WUMBUS. What is my favorite? It’s darned hard to picker, from SNEE is for SNEEDLE to GLICK is for GLIKKER. And as sure and as shootin’ as I am a libra, my favorite kids book is still ON BEYOND ZEBRA.
We often referred to our two schipperkes (dogs) as Thing A and Thing B. They were almost as raucous as these guys.
And that, my friends, is how it is done. So come back real soon if you want some real fun. 😀
END NOTE: A few years ago there were so many hurricanes that the National Hurricane Center ran out of standard western alphabet letters to name them after, and had to go to Greek letters to designate the overflow. I actually emailed WCBS-New York News Radio 880 weatherman Craig Allen and suggested they use the Seuss letters instead. To my amazement, he took my tongue-in-cheek suggestion seriously and emailed back that I should send the suggestion to the Hurricane Center. I shot back that it was intended as a joke, and he should feel free to use it. I don’t know if he ever did, but a few days later Stephen Colbert made this very suggestion on the first Colbert Report. Coincidence? Maybe, but those New York media types travel in the same circles, so you never know!
“The baseball mania has run its course. It has no future as a professional endeavor.” — Cincinnati Gazette editorial, 1879
“A man once told me to walk with the Lord. I’d rather walk with the bases loaded.” — Ken Singleton
Ah, Spring! Instead of spending my leisure hours indoors, drinking beer and watching old movies, I can spend them outdoors, drinking beer and watching baseball.
For years we had a little wooden plaque hanging on our kitchen wall that my wife found at a craft fair, inscribed with the missive “We interrupt this marriage to bring you the baseball season.” Today? It’s not that the more things change the more they stay the same, it’s that some things never change. At any rate, my wife will be out riding her horse every weekend while the weather is nice, so who’s ignoring whom? We interrupt this blog to bring you the baseball season…
Hope springs eternal.
Here’s another monthly guest post of mine from The Blog of Funny Names. The name is funny, but the story is not. I guess I get serious–or at least less flippant–when the baseball season approaches.
What a mouthful. Named for six uncles and nicknamed for the family St. Bernard dog that followed him around as a child, Christian Frederick Albert John Henry David “Bruno” Betzel (1894-1965) was a dead ball era baseball player whose brief career as an infielder with the St. Louis Cardinals spanned the years 1914 through 1918. Betzel made the majors at the tender of age of 19 and was through by 24. Normally, a player prodigious enough to make the show as a teenager has a long, even Hall of Fame caliber career. Robin Yount was the starting shortstop for the Milwaukee Brewers at 18. Al Kaline jumped straight from high school to the Detroit Tigers, also at the ripe age of 18. I have been unable to find any story recounting why Betzel was washed up so young. At any rate, his name was truly longer than his career, and…
View original post 422 more words
I’m back from the Iberian peninsula just in time to reblog my second monthly guest post on The Blog of Funny Names. Appropriately enough, it’s a place name and not a person.
In other news, my thanks to Sue of Dreamshadow59 for nominating me for the very inspiring blogger award. I do appreciate the nominations (this my 8th I think) but I don’t participate–meaning I don’t jump through the required hoops among which require nominating so many other bloggers, so that it spreads like a rhinovirus through the blogosphere. http://dreamshadow59.wordpress.com/2013/02/11/very-inspiring-blogger-award/
Now, if I can find my office under all this snow, back to real life.
Truth or Consequences, NM,is indeed one of the odd names in American Geography. The story of the name’s origin is odder still. I 
thought I had it nailed back in the early 70’s, long before the founders of this blog were even born. I drove through Truth or Consequences on a cross country trip. As I passed beyond the city limits heading north towards Albequerque, I saw a huge sign on the interstate proclaiming “NEXT SERVICES 100 MILES.” Aha! That has to be it, I thought, as I looked down at my dashboard. My gas gauge had better be telling me the truth, or I would pay the consequences!
Wrong. Well, sort of right; my observation about being screwed if my gas gauge was inaccurate probably was true. But the true story of how the former Hot Springs, NM changed its name is more unlikely than that. It…
View original post 171 more words
“I like to play dangerously… where you’re going to take a chance on making mistakes in order to create something you haven’t created before.”–Dave Brubek
(Note: The title of this post provides an apt, if inadvertent double entendre. I have used the title preface “Time Out” for posts that don’t readily fit into my existing threads. “Time Out” also just happens to be the title of The Dave Brubek Quartet’s signature album. It was issued in 1959 and became the first million selling jazz album ever. It is one of the greatest classics of the genre).
Brubek on the cover of Time, November, 1954.
I never met the man, yet somehow I knew him. In one of the choral groups I sang with in high school we performed a Brubek composition (yes he wrote choral music, too). Our director actually tried to get Brubek, who lived in a neighboring town, to make a guest appearance to conduct the piece at our concert. He was unavailable. I never gave it much thought then, though Brubek’s Greatest Hits was the first jazz album I owned–and in fact the only jazz in my collection until I was in my forties. I did not see him perform live until I was in my 50’s and he in his 80’s.
Below are two videos, courtesy of the Litchfield Jazz Festival, where I saw Dave Brubek perform twice. The first video is a promotional piece that begins with Brubek performing in the 2005 festival. In the shot of the audience applause that follows the visual of Brubek you’ll see two audience members stand up near the back. I’m pretty sure the partially obscured one farthest back is me. In the second video, taped at the 2008 festival, NPR interviews Brubek and Paquito D’Rivera. There was no seating in this tent. I was standing in the front row, about fifteen feet from Brubek during the entire interview. I witnessed history that day.
Dave Brubek was an icon, a living legend. He was not just a great artist, he was one of the great ambassadors for the arts. He died yesterday, one day short of his 92nd birthday, in the same hospital where my wife was born. So near, and yet so far away.
I'm not the most interesting man in the world, but I might have the most cluttered mind.
The Millennium Conjectures™ 