I finally got it. After three and a half years, I caught COVID-19. Not sure where or when, but the test was positive and of that there could be no doubt. So, five days of isolation were ordered, and I could think of no better time to jump into Ted Lasso.
Several of my friends recommended this show; so many, in fact, that I found it difficult to believe the hype. But right from the get-go, this was my kind of show. An quick barrage of dad jokes and pop culture references made me feel right at home, but I was not prepared for the uplifting message behind it all. If you haven’t seen the show, Ted Lasso is an American division 2 football coach who is recruited to coach soccer in London. No, he has no experience with soccer. He doesn’t even know the rules. Why has he been hired? Well, the owner’s motive is right out of Major League. She wants the team to fail. It seems A.F.C. Richmond was her philandering ex-husband’s pride and joy, she got the team in the divorce, and her plan is to run it into the ground. That’s where the similarities end, though. There is no cynicism in this show. It’s simply not done. Every character has motives that are consistent with who they are. They react out of love, jealousy, anger, fear, and pain, and Ted Lasso is usually there to explore their motives and to persuade them to be the best version of themselves. He just brings it out in people.
I watched all three seasons over the course of a few days, and I have to tell you that after being immersed in this world, I’m going to make a few changes in myself. First, I’m going to try to be more curious and less judgmental. Second, I’m going to try to make the folks around me know how much I care about them and appreciate them. And third, I’m going to start saying, “Oi!” a lot more.
I have always loved both characters, Batman and Superman. When I was first able to walk and talk, the Batman TV show inspired me in myriad ways, starting in January 1966. Later in the same year, in the fall, the New Adventures of Superman cartoon was on CBS on Saturday mornings, and I loved that, too, especially the eight-minute Superboy sequences parked between two eight-minute Superman shorts. There have been times in my life where I have swung like a pendulum from one side to the other. As a small child, I couldn’t help but be swayed by Batmania. It was in full effect, like it was made for me. I had Batman slippers, Batman pajamas, Batman dinnerware. If Batman action figures (besides the Captain Action outift) had existed then, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere without one. As it was, I had a plastic cake decoration that served the same purpose.
1966 Batman cake topper by Wilton
But as I got older and Batmania started to fade from the national consciousness, I started to learn that Superman had an older and deeper public presence. He’d had a radio show from 1940-1949, a series of animated movie shorts from 1941-1943, and a television show from 1952-1958. When the 1966 cartoon show came on, I didn’t have the first clue that it used three of the voice actors from the radio show (as did the animated shorts in the 40s) because I didn’t know there had been one!
As far as I knew, the New Adventures of Superman were the first adventures of Superman. When I found out that Superman had had a radio program, I was eating breakfast in 1976, reading the back of a box of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes:
By that time, I had been introduced to War of the Worlds and the Lone Ranger, but I had no inkling that there had been a radio show featuring Superman. I thought for about a second about asking for it, but I might as well have asked for the moon because I was still living with my stepfather, who had burned all of my comic books and forbade any such stuff in his house. Oh yes, I have them now, all four volumes. Of course I do. But I don’t really need them, because we live in a time of wonders. Back in the early 1990s, a company called Radio Spirits really got into cleaning up and preserving old radio broadcasts, including Superman. At first they released them on cassette, then compact disc, and among their popular releases was Superman. I was an early adopter, buying both cassettes for the car and my vintage-appearing radio/cassette player, and later, CDs, and then finally switching to USB drives, I can listen to Superman for pennies per episode. And I do. I listen to it every day on my way to and from work. I guess you could say that I’m swinging back toward the Superman side of my fandom right now. I’ve even gone to the point where I have a reproduction box of Kellogg’s Pep, which was the sponsor for the show, as well as one of the comic buttons that they advertised twice an episode.
Superman had his own sort of Batmania in the late 1970s with the December 1978 release of Superman The Movie. Double-album movie scores, trading cards, t-shirts everywhere, oversized comics celebrating the character’s past and present, movie tie-in novels, quiz books, there was no shortage of Superman.
One of my favorite products of that line of Supermania was (and is) the novel, Superman: Last Son of Krypton, by Elliot S. Maggin. Elliot was one of the prominent Superman writers of the period, and I thought he wrote a wonderful novel. Despite the fact that there were photos from Superman The Movie included in the book, the novel did not share its ice-planet vision of Krypton. It pulled strictly from the mythos of the comics, and their wonderful and sometimes absurd situations, even sometimes adding to them by suggesting that Jor-El sent a telepathic probe to seek out Earth’s greatest mind in order to have someone fitting receive baby Kal-El’s rocket as it arrived. Instead, the anonymous scientific genius, whose not-so-subtle nom-de-voyage was Calvin Eisner, arranged for the elderly Kents to be the first to find the rocket under the illusion that they were at a certain location to buy a used tractor at a good price. “Eisner” had wisely chosen not to raise the child himself, but instead chose the salt-of-the-earth Kents after meeting with Smallville’s Chief Parker and getting the lay of the land, if you will.
Maggin additionally added layers to Lex Luthor, who actually merits some sympathy due to his upbringing in this story, as well as its 1981 sequel, Miracle Monday. Both books really dig into what it was like for Clark Kent to grow up, perhaps implausibly, in the same hometown as the boy genius who would grow up to be his archenemy. A lot of time is spent in both books, especially the second, exploring what it would be like to grow up with superpowers, and even just to have superpowers. That kind of expanded storytelling appealed to me in a more adult way than comics ever could, and did what so few kinds of entertainment of the day did: It made me think. As a kid living in the country without the virtues of streaming entertainment or even cable television, I had pleny of time to think during the day, letting my mind wander into the clouds where Superman could dwell. The memory of the day I met Elliot and shook his hand, telling him what his stories meant to me, will remain with me forever.
Elliot Maggin and me. Of course I was wearing a BATMAN shirt when I met him!
The Superman movie that Elliot’s book supposedly tied into was quite different. It was a very interesting period piece, honestly. The Metropolis of 1978 was supposed to reflect the Manhattan of the time. Now, I visited Manhattan in 2004, and I thought Times Square was incredible. Shops everywhere, a three-story Toys R Us, so much fun! It was a far cry from the downtown of 1978. “Funky” would be the nice word to use. It’s been the setting of many movies that feature the filth and the grit of the area, like Midnight Cowboy, for example. And Margot Kidder’s Lois Lane seems to fit right in with her harsh and cynical no-nonsense attitude.
Right about that time, a book called Superman: Serial to Cereal was published, and went into some detail about the screen history of Superman, including the Fleischer cartoons, the movie serials starring Kirk Alyn, and the Adventures of Superman TV show, starring George Reeves. The Adventures of Superman came back to TV in my area thanks to syndication, and I rushed home to watch it every day after school. I even checked off the episodes that I saw in the checklist in the back of the book.
This was a connection that my dad had with me. This show had started when he was nine years old, and he had watched it faithfully. This, more than even comic books, is where his impression of Superman came from. I find it funny now that he thought Christopher Reeve was too scrawny to be Superman, compared to the obviously padded suit that George Reeves wore.
Yes, I still have the original book!
It was in this same book that I learned of the existence of the Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons, but it would be a few years before I ever saw one. I saw the Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons at my very first comic book convention in 1984. Someone was playing a VHS tape on a tiny portable TV. Since then, I’ve bought them on VHS, DVD, and now on Blu-Ray. As I said above, the connections to the radio show were strong, as they used the voice actors for the radio program when making the cartoons. The Fleischer design of Superman is generally the visual image I use when participating in “the theater of the mind” of the radio show. The Superman of the animated shorts and the radio show is sometimes quite different from that of the comics.
There have been various homages to those incredible pieces of animation history. Some of them are direct, and some of them are more subtle. Such is the modern world where everything is available at our fingertips. I was once one of the very few who appreciated the cartoons. Now, they’re ubiquitous. It’s a great time to be a fan!
Emerging from obscurity: The 1940s Superman cartoons’ influence today
When seventh grade was finally over and summer vacation began, I couldn’t wait to play baseball. The year before, I had played Little League in Tustin with my dad as an assistant coach, and there was no question that I was one of the stars on the team. But in Mesick, that pecking order had already been established, and I was more like in interloper coming in to disrupt things. Still, I had made friends over the course of the year thanks to my size and being recruited to play basketball, and I was one of the guys now. So, naturally, I wanted to play baseball, which was a sport I was actually good at and had experience playing.
To say that we were dominant as a baseball team would be an understatement. We crushed everyone in our path. These guys had been playing together practically since birth, and their roles were were established. Everyone knew who the pitchers were, who the catcher was, and who played each position. I, who had been used to playing first base, was cast aside in favor of two left-handed players. I was relegated instead to right field. Not because I had a good arm for that long throw to third, but because fewer balls were hit there than the other two fields. I had fielded fly balls for years on the playground, but playing organized outfield was different. I did have a good arm, far better than average, and I loved to unload from the outfield. I was pretty accurate, too. I was happy as long as I was playing.
Can you picture the movie, The Sandlot? Just kids playing in blue jeans and t-shirts? That’s who we were. Kastl Well Drilling was our sponsor, and it was written in black on the front of our orange t-shirts with our numbers on the backs. The head coach our team was Jerry McNitt, the local gas man who also had a trout farm. His son, Eric, was our best pitcher and one of the lefty first basemen I mentioned. Floyd Carpenter was his assistant. Floyd was married to Vonceille, who was the lady in town who cut everyone’s hair. No, I mean it. She was the only stylist in town as far as we boys went. Unless you wanted to drive 20-25 miles to Cadillac or Traverse City, Vonceille was the only game in town. She was also Monty Geiger’s mom, and he was one of my classmates and teammates. They lived right across from the ballfield, so it was convenient!
As the summer went on, I looked forward to Little League every day. There was nothing I loved more than playing baseball, even from a young age. It was one of the few things that I did that my abusive stepfather actually approved of. I still remember the thrill of getting my first baseball glove (from a garage sale) and playing catch with myself by bouncing a hard rubber ball off of the propane tank in our back yard. The cylindrical nature of the tank provided for fly balls, ground balls, and line drives, depending on the angle at which the ball hit the tank. Eventually, I received one of the best gifts ever, a Pitch-Back.
With the Pitch-Back, I could use an actual baseball, another wonderful Christmas gift. I was always amused that my Christmas gifts were usually things that I couldn’t use for months while we waited for good weather, but my dreams were filled with visions of using them, and that sure beat nightmares any time.
One thing I had never dealt with before in baseball but encountered for the first time in Mesick, was a curveball. For those of you who don’t deal in sports very much, a curveball is thrown with an angled spin that makes the ball change course in the air. It is NOT an optical illusion. The raised seams of the baseball provide resistance against the air in the direction of the spin, while the spin accelerates on the downward side. Bernoulli’s principle is at work here. For a right-handed pitcher throwing to a right-handed batter, you literally aim the ball at their lead shoulder, and the ideal pitch will break down and to the left, across the plate for a strike. That means to the batter, for a split-second, the ball looks like it is going to hit you. You have about half a second to determine if it’s a curveball or not, and whether to swing. You determine that by picking up the spin out of the pitcher’s hand as soon as possible. As a kid who had been hit a lot, I was not one to stay still in the box and find out. I flinched almost every single time. Throwing a curve ball puts a lot of tension on the elbow, so it’s generally not something you see until 12 or 13 years old. That added a whole new element to baseball for which I was unprepared.
Still, our team dominated every area team, going undefeated for the entire summer. We beat one team in Grawn 38-0. By the end, we were all batting opposite handed so as not to run up the score even more. When victorious, our coaches would take us to the Dari-Pit for ice cream.
The Dari-Pit, a few years before I was in Little League, but it looked pretty much just like this
This, of course, was the same place my grandma used to take my brother Jeff and me for ice cream, and I knew I loved those banana boats. When it was my turn to order, I ordered the banana boat. The other players jumped on me immediately. Banana splits were for players who hit a home run. Everyone else just got a vanilla or chocolate cone. I was devastated to have committed such a faux pas with my new team. I overreacted and refused any ice cream at all, because I had been conditioned to prepare for punishment for making such a mistake. The coaches wouldn’t hear of it, though, and were great. They just told me gently to check with them next time. This, like so many other instances growing up in Mesick, was a kindness that I would never forget. It was the polar opposite of what I was used to, and how I was used to being treated. Teachers and now coaches were proving to be positive models for adult behavior which I would emuate in my own adult years.
“Kellog’s PEP! P-E-P. That super-delicious cereal presents…The Adventures of Superman! Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound! Look, up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Superman!”
Now, if you don’t remember Kellogg’s Pep, that’s okay. I don’t, either. It was discontinued some time in the 1970s. From what I understand they tasted a bit like Wheaties. Pep was one of the first vitamin-fortified cereals, but I know it because of its close association with the Superman radio show, which ran from 1940 until 1949. I listen to the old-time radio show every single day on my way to and from work, and in fact, whenever I’m driving the car anywhere. Some time ago, I bought a 5-CD set that has literally hundreds of episodes of the show on it, and I just let it play and play. For most of its run, The Adventures of Superman was comprised of 15-minute episodes that played every afternoon, the time of day depending on locale. As a serialized story, there was a lot of repetition to keep kids who may have missed an episode up to speed. But the stories move pretty quickly, for the most part. I have a couple of the CD sets released by Radio Spirits almost 20 years ago, as well as a big cassette set featuring Superman along with Batman & Robin, who often guest-starred with the Man of Steel.
As I’ve mentioned before, much of the Superman mythos first appeared on radio. It can’t be understated how much the radio program contributed to Superman’s popularity. But I think my favorite part of the show’s portrayal of Superman is what a complete character he is. He’s no musclebound lunkhead, as he’s sometimes stereotyped to be from the comics. He’s an investigative reporter with as sharp an intellect as Batman’s. Even moreso on this show, because there are times when he makes Batman look simple by comparison. Well, I mean, it’s Superman’s show. He’s the star, right? But the number of times he nearly gives himself away when talking about himself while he’s in his Clark Kent disguise (more on that in a minute) is high. Very high.
It’s a more modern contrivance, thinking of Superman as really being Clark Kent’s disguise. This started in the 80s when John Byrne rebooted Superman. Gone was his past as Superbaby, or even Superboy. Superman simply became the public persona of the adult super-powered farmboy who didn’t even know where he came from. But back in the 1940s, Superman was his true persona, and Clark Kent was the disguise. In fact, it was in the second episode of the radio show when Superman, soon after arriving on Earth as an adult, and after rescuing a professor and his son from a runaway trolley car in Indiana, asks for their help in coming up with a human name for him to use as his disguise: “How about Clark Kent? That’s ordinary enough.” It’s also their idea for him to become a newspaper reporter, at “a great metropolitan.” That way he can learn quickly about where he’s needed.
As the radio program progresses, Superman’s cast of supporting characters solidifies. We have Lois Lane right away, of course, and “grey-haired editor, Perry White.” But when cub reporter Jimmy Olsen comes along, it was a whole new ballgame. Jimmy Olsen was just as important a character, if not moreso than Lois Lane. Jimmy didn’t just get into trouble. Jimmy provided the everyman’s perspective for Superman. He was our window into Superman’s world. He traveled the world with Clark Kent, despite being 14 years old and allegedly living with his mother. At one point I was considering compiling a list of skills that Jimmy picked up on their adventures, but it would be a towering list, only exceeding his injuries by a small margin. That kid would have been the poster child for CTE by the time he was an adult, and he’d have more scar tissue than an Alex Ross image of Batman. He was shot, stabbed, shocked, poisoned, and nearly drowned more times than I can count. He probably developed immunity to a dozen diseases, too. He was like a modern-day Rasputin.
Just like the show, I have to interrupt this blog post to talk about Kellogg’s Pep. When the show began without a sponsor in February 1940, they made dummy commercials to demonstrate what the show could be. “Brought to you by Blankareens!” But it wasn’t long before Kellogg’s Pep became the show’s sponsor for years. Kellogg’s provided premiums with their cereal, including cardboard warplanes, and mail-away walkie talkies that “look like the real thing and really work.” They came with 50 feet of cord so you could talk “clear across the playground.” There was plenty of air given to buying war bonds during World War II was well. But perhaps the best Pep prizes were the comic buttons.
Our pal Dan McCullough was constantly talking to us about our collection of 18 comic buttons that come in Kellogg’s Pep. He’d always start his pitch with, “Hey, gang!” and then he’d launch into how these comic buttons would look swell pinned to our “jacket, or dress, or cap,” and “what a thrill it was to swap duplicates with our pals. Why, they look so real, you expect them to come to life! And you don’t send any money in, not even a boxtop. And you can’t buy them anywhere. Just ask your mom to get you a package of P-E-P, Kellogg’s Pep!” Seriously, that was off the top of my head because I have heard the pitch so often!
Well, Dan had never heard of EBay, because guess what I got in the mail today. Why, Superman himself!
I have to be honest, after all these years of listening to Dan tell the gang how true-to-life these comic buttons were, I was a little disappointed that they were smaller than a nickel.
But hey, I finally have one of those swell prizes from Kellogg’s of Battle Creek!
I guess I kind of REALLY fell down the rabbit hole I described a month ago. I do that sometimes. I get hyperfocused on the new thing in front of me, and I go all the way in, leaving everything else behind. I started repairing, repainting and reselling vintage Mego action figures, and wow! It is so incredibly satisfying. I found myself in over my head before I knew it. Since I last posted about them on August 30th, I went from this:
To this:
And that’s not counting the ones I’ve sold. That Planet of the Apes Ursus I posted about on August 30th? I sold it for $129.99. The risk that I was worried about paid off big time! I used the profit from that sale to do something better with my photography. I really didn’t care for the sunburst background I used. So, I went to Amazon and found a miniature 16″ x 16″ photo studio. Self-lit with a ring of LED lights and a number of plastic backdrops, it did the trick! The next figure I put up was a vintage Scotty figure from the 1974 Star Trek line.
Scotty in the studio
I used a diorama created by my friend Mike Sutter of the Guardian of Forever from the classic episode City on the Edge of Forever to frame my photo. Check out the result!
It really classes up the toy, doesn’t it? I put this Scotty figure together with parts. I got a head and uniform in one lot, the weapons in another, and the type-2 body in a third. I sold it after three weeks for $79.99. But before that, I was able to sell the Lt. Leslie custom figure I had made for $59.99! I couldn’t believe it! I used a printed background on a normal piece of computer paper and a riser that Mike made.
Then a type-1 Spock for $59.99. I was selling the figures just about as fast as I could pull in replacement figures and parts.
I even sold a French Spider-Man figure for which I fixed a broken leg! I bought it for $42.75, and ten days later, I sold it for $79.99. It may have taken me 10 minutes to fix his leg.
Encouraged, I started buying figures and parts like crazy. Then, as I realized I had too many figures on my shelf (as you can see above), I decided to put together a nice set out of reconditioned figures that I had repaired, repainted, and outfitted with reproduction weapons. And last night, after just a few hours, I sold it, my biggest sale yet!
I sold this batch for $180! That’s more than my pristine set cost me a few years ago with vintage weapons and their foil stickers still intact.
The only one that came to me whole was Uhura. I just added a reproduction tricorder to make her complete.
I have to take a step back now, and just be impressed with myself. I am selling my figures for far more than they’re worth. It’s just a pleasant surprise every time one sells, because every single time, I think I’ve overpriced them. But wow, it sure is rewarding.
