TV Remote

 I attribute this post to a case of summer lassitude. Today, I’m kicking back to take a look at a few of my favorite childhood TV shows. This is not an exhaustive list and, by no means, do I intend to minimize the important role that Saturday Morning Cartoons played in my growth and development. 

Community Auditions (sponsored by Community Opticians (are you impressed that I remember that?) dazzled me when I was a little kid in Waltham, Massachusetts. I was born in 1947 and this was the early ‘50s - eons before shows like Fame! and American Idol captured our imaginations. In addition to the predictable hoofers and warblers, there were pianists, whistlers, jugglers, and more knocking themselves out live on some local TV stage. Inspired, my dad and I regularly worked on an act, where, while lying on his back on the floor, I’d step into his open palms and he’d lift me up and down, up and down.  My job was to balance by holding my little legs straight. That I could do this made me happy; really, giddy. I was three or four years old. Notably, none of my siblings came close to being able to do this trick. And, most importantly, my father conveyed absolute certainty that when we procured our slot on the show, we would absolutely win. Need I say more? 

Friday nights offered a double-header set of favs: Lassie and I Remember Mama. Both were episodic and both went straight for the heart. I liked the nice mom in Lassie with her aprons and pies. The dad was non-threatening, industrious, and gave good advice. I never tired of watching that brave collie alternately being threatened or valiantly saving the day. Mostly, though, I was totally in love with Tommy Retting, the actor who played Lassie’s owner Jeff from ‘54 to ‘57. (This was when I was aged 7-10.) It was fairly traumatic when Retting got replaced, but I think, by then, My Three Sons was on and I liked one of them. I also had a massive crush on Beaver’s older brother, Wally. 

I don’t remember much about I Remember Mama (1949-57) except it depicted crazy family antics. There might have been a boarder or two.  One of the characters was Dagmar, and I could never get over the sound of the name. My dad would be in the kitchen melting the butter for our weekly feast of popcorn; mom always had a warm look on her face when she reminded us that we were going to get to watch the weekly show (clearly we were very young). Additionally, I’m sure I loved it because we called mom’s mother, Mama and she was an equally appealing matriarch: inviting, funny, strong and wise.

The Mickey Mouse Club (1955-59) was a hands down favorite. Shamefully, and such a sign of the times, every white kid in America got to identify with one of the Musketeers. For me, brown-haired-girl, Annette, filled the bill. I couldn’t get enough of watching kids my age sing and strut their stuff day after day. Anyone else remember Spin and Marty - the episodic addition to the talent segment? Teenagers at summer camp. Boys lived across the lake from the girls and canoed over. I was ten or so; it would be years  before I’d begin to date (remember that old custom, dating?). I got all sorts of vicarious kicks as I experienced the sparks that flew between Annette and her steady, (moody) boyfriend, Spin.

Saturday night meant The Lawrence Welk Show (1955-71) which featured the singing Lennon Sisters. Each wore page-boy hairdos; each was prettier than the next. My sisters, Beth, Lauren and I grew our hair, wore headbands and took turns pretending to be either Dianne, Peggy, Kathy or Janet. We’d sing our hearts out every night while we did the dishes and, you guessed it, had no doubt that we were every bit as good as those iconic song-birds.

I’ll always be eternally grateful to my older sister, Beth, for coming home from school and religiously turning on the TV to watch American Bandstand with Dick Clark. She owned a 45-rpm record player and spent her allowance on the records we watched the regulars dance to on that show. Kenny and Arlene, Bob and Christine. How I studied their every move; wondered about what they were saying to one another. I wanted, so wanted to wear peter-pan collars and be cool like one of them. 

Ah! Life in the fifties - nothing if not  a dream. 

a dream?