Oh, Those Cowboy Heroes!

MEMORY MONDAY

This blog post was swimming around in my subconscious yesterday morning as I woke up.  I don't know where the thoughts came from, they were just there, and they seemed perfect.

I grew up back in the 50s and 60s, when television was still black and white for anyone who wasn't filthy rich.  An only child in a middle income family, with two working parents--something of an oddity at the time--and an imagination that bubbled over would be a good description of me.  I grew up watching cowboy shows, because those were the shows, in addition to the Mickey Mouse Club and Captain Kangaroo, that were available the most.  

Howdy Doody, up there, with Buffalo Bob Smith, along with Clarabell the Clown, Mayor Phineas T. Bluster, Flub-a-Dub and more, kept kids in the Peanut Gallery entertained with puppetry and silliness.  (For those who don't know, Clarabell was played by Bob Keeshan aka Captain Kangaroo.)  To be honest, when thinking of all those Westerns I watched as a little girl, Howdy didn't even come to mind.  GASP!

I knew I'd forgotten many of the shows I watched, so it was Wikipedia to the rescue!  There were adult Westerns and kid Westerns.  Of course I was drawn to the kid ones at an early age.  I did a quick count of the early shows and came up with some thirty-five Westerns I watched on a regular basis from the early 1950s to the early 1960s.  Keep in mind that back in the olden days, we had THREE channels.

So here we go with a list: (Most watched in bold)

The Adventures of Jim Bowie     The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin     
The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok      Annie Oakley     Bat Masterson  
Broken Arrow     Bronco     Cheyenne     Circus Boy     Davy Crockett      Death Valley Days    
Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theatre     Fury     The Gabby Hayes Show      The Gene Autry Show    Gunsmoke     Have Gun Will Travel     Hopalong Cassidy     Laramie     Lawman     The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp   The Lone Ranger     Maverick     My Friend Flicka      Rawhide  
 The Rebel     The Rifleman    The Roy Rogers Show     The Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Show   
Sky King     Sugarfoot     Texas John Slaughter     The Virginian    Wagon Train     Wanted: Dead or Alive   Zorro

Annie Oakley was one of my favorites.  She could ride and shoot like any cowboy.  Rin Tin Tin was a beautiful German Shepherd dog that saved Rusty, the little boy who was a part of the cavalry, and anyone else who needed saving. (Think Lassie.)  Fury and My Friend Flicka were all about a boy and his horse.  Or two boys and their horses, as it was.  Hopalong Cassidy was just, well, Hoppy, and I rarely missed it.  I still remember that big ol' white hat he wore.  The Lone Ranger?  What female's heart didn't pound at the sight of that masked man.  And Tonto, played by Jay Silverheels, wasn't all that bad, either.  Which brings us to Maverick, and I still adore James Garner and always will.  Sky King flew a plane and had a neice named Penny.  I was envious.  Zorro, too, had a mask, and was a part of Disney.

Fess Parker played both Davy Crocket and, later, Daniel Boone.  Circus Boy starred a little boy named Mickey Braddock, who later became Micky Dolenz of The Monkees (1960s music group, for all you youngsters).  Stars were born.  Stars faded, and some went on to other things.  Tom Tryon (Texas John Slaughter), became a author, writing Harvest Home, The Other, and Lady.  The first of those was a terrific horror book, similar to Stephen King's writing.  Bronco actor Ty Hardin's real name is Orison Whipple Hungerford Jr..  I learned that when I was 10 and he was a teen heartthrob.

Those were the good old days.  The good guys won, the bad guys lost, and the cowboy always got his girl.

Yes, there are many later TV Westerns not on the list.  Bonanza, The Big Valley, The High Chaparell, Here Come the Brides (considered a Western, but set in post-Civil War Seattle), Lonesome Dove, and many more.

How many did you watch?  If you're too young for many of these, ask your parents if they watched.  And head on over to Wikipedia for a full list of TV Westerns.


It's fun to take a look back at the things we enjoyed, long ago.  There's a lot of difference between then and now, and we don't see nearly the Westerns on TV or in the movies as we once did.  But we do see a lot of Cowboy Heroes in romance books.  I wonder how many romance authors were raised on the Code of the West as I was?  Is it any wonder I have a soft spot for a soft-spoken, well-mannered cowboy?

The good old days are now. ~ Tom Clancy

Crunch Time

It seems as if I'm always crunched for time, but right now, it's at the point of crucial.  Deadline looms for the last of the Desperation books.  I'm a scene + one chapter + an epilogue from having it written.  That will be done by the end of the week, but then there's editing and polishing.  Deadline is the 24th.

This past weekend, I'd planned to be much closer to being finished.  Weekends are usually my best time to get caught up on word count.  Not this past Saturday and Sunday.  I'd forgotten about college basketball.  I didn't even make a note of it, and the schedules I'd printed seem to have buried themselves under quickly scribbled plot notes and snips of dialogue. When I realized my beloved Wildcats were playing, it was far into the game.  And since two granddaughters were here for basically the weekend (more bad planning on my part) and had commandeered the TV, I watched the last half of the game on my computer.  The game wasn't going well, so I missed the last few minutes to switch to another.  Thanks to friends on FB, I realized that my beloved #4-in-the-nation Shockers weren't playing in the evening, but were just beginning their game.  It wasn't televised, so I listened to the play-by-play on the radio.  This game had a much better outcome, with a 23rd straight victory.  GO SHOX!!!  But then that other State university was playing yet another beloved team, the Longhorns, and UT was leading by a wide margin at half-time.  Obviously a must-see and well worth the time.  I giggled for a couple of hours over that one.  An impromptu dinner at oldest daughter's house took up most of the evening, but I came home and hit the keyboard, at least finishing two more scenes.  Can we say 'dedication?'  Can we say 'panic?'

My intention on Sunday was to bury myself in getting words on paper.  I ended up spending more time on line edits for the August book than I'd planned, and time went by without much notice...except for that nagging in the back of my mind that I really needed to finish the line edits and get cracking on that new manuscript.  Then came the sad news that Philip Seymour Hoffman had died, as I eagerly awaited 8 p.m., when the CNN documentary, The 60s: The British Invasion, a lead-in to a new series, was to come on.  But PSH news kept that from happening, and it wasn't until 10 p.m.that the CNN docu finally aired.  I'm really looking forward to the full CNN The 60s series in May.  I truly enjoyed The British Invasion, listening and watching all the great bands and music from that era and how it all shaped, not only the music of today, but the world.

So this is my life at this point.  The usual running back and forth to schools to drop off and collect the g-kids, checking Facebook off and on during the day, and racing to that deadline.  A threatening snowstorm over the next few days may put a crimp in my crunch if school is closed due to weather.  Which would be better?  Refereeing 5 kids or having to drive through snow to get them to and fro?  Something tells me I won't get to choose.  Mother Nature sometimes has a lousy sense of humor.  I'm working on mine. ;)

The thing that would most improve my life is 27 hours in a day. I could meet all my deadlines. ~ Yoko Ono

Or not. 

A Little History of Home

Campbell Castle 1890

Call me weird, but I have a thing for history.  Local history, to be precise.  There are two places that tickle my interest.  One is Wichita, the city where I was born and spent my childhood.  The other is Clearwater, where my mother's family settled, after immigrating from Germany and where I finished growing up.

The reason for the first is probably because my dad told stories about Wichita when he was growing up.  Born in 1910, he remembered things that are no longer there.  Theaters, drug stores, street names that were changed along the way.  Later, after I married, my dad and my grand-father-in-law, who were only a few years apart in age, would sit and share memories.  Of course I don't remember everything, but all of them fascinated me and made me aware of how history changes.

1885 Occidental Hotel 

Last night, my #3 daughter tagged me in a photo on Facebook, with an old photo of a building that was known as the Occidental Hotel.  According to the information where she found the photo, the hotel "was one of the Old West's most famous and grand hotels in its day. The Occidental played host to numerous notorious guests (including General Sheridan and outlaw Frank James) and the storied poker games of Room 12."  That set me off to visit the website where the photo had appeared, and I've now wasted spent at least an hour looking at Then & Now photos.  I've driven by the "Now" building many times and knew it wasn't new.  What I didn't know was the history behind it.

For the past three or four years, I've gone on a local "ghost tour" of an area of the city that wasn't a part of the city in the beginning.  The Arkansas (pronounced Ar-kansas', not like the state ☺) River bordered the original town/city on the west.  Beyond that was an area known as Delano. Infamous for gunfights, brawls and prostitution, the river kept the notorious out of Wichita.  In fact, guns were checked at the bridge before entering Wichita from Delany. (photo below)  Yeah, gun control in the 1800s. ☺  I never new about this, until I went on the first ghost tour with my youngest daughter. We've since dragged other family members along with us, but that first visit was the best. There's a story about an 1873 gunfight between two saloon owners, "Rowdy" Joe and "Red" Beard, in which Rowdy shot and killed Red.  During the ghost tour, this is one of the stories that's told.  Red's ghost still haunts one of the buildings that is now a hair salon.  Many of the buildings there now were built in the 1870s.  While Wichita has it's Cowtown Museum (a living museum of original buildings moved farther up the river and includes re-enactments of the time), it's exciting to hear and read the stories and see photos of the "other" Wichita, especially because I spent my childhood only a few blocks south of Delano and never knew the history, although I'm sure my dad mentioned it.  These days, the Delano District includes shops, businesses, restaurants and art galleries.  A wonderful place to visit.

Wichita (now East Wichita) on the left, Delano (now West Wichita) on the right

My dad also talked about Ackerman Island, situated in the middle of the Arkansas River.  (large island on the middle right)  Not just a simple island, it held an amusement park, complete with a roller coaster.  A drive along McLean, which I take often to go to the far west side of the city and follows the west bank of the river, now shows a completely different river.  No islands, no old boathouse, where people rented small boats, canoes and paddle boats.  I can only imagine what that might have been like.

While Wichita doesn't have the history of Boston or Charleston and cities along the east coast and south, it does have some some interesting stories.  Okay, a lot that are interesting. :)  Carrie Nation visited our fair city and smashed a bar in one of the local hotels, for one.  Then there's Rowdy Joe and Red Beard...  Ah, history.

Just another look at my childhood memories and far far before that.  Check into your own hometown history and see what you can find.  You won't be disappointed!

The past actually happened but history is only what someone wrote down. 

~ A. Whitney Brown

Sound Blast from the Past

High school band, 1968

Last night, I attended my oldest granddaughter's instrumental concert.  I missed the first one, so going to this one, themed for the holidays, was one I didn't want to miss.  Because these were middle school band and orchestra students, many of them are just beginning their musical journey.  But I must say I was impressed with their playing--especially the 6th graders, who played after only a few months of instruction.  The teacher/conductor also impressed me.  Sure, there were some missed notes and, as I and my fellow former high school band members can remember, the tempo of each piece being played tends to speed up as the end approaches.  Last night, they handled that very well.

My granddaughter plays the viola.  She wanted to play the cello, but she's on the tiny side, and the girl across the street from me won out on that one.  By the way, the girl across the street is a sweetie and friend with both of my granddaughters.  I remember wanting to play the cello.  For a year or so when I was ten, I took private French lessons with a group of older girls, one a neighbor.  They were in what's now middle school at the time.  I'd learned French in fourth grade, so I at least had a clue.  That and the fact that a family friend had taught me several French phrases and to count from one to ten before I ever started school.  The daughter of the woman who taught those of us in the private group played the cello.  I fell in love with it.  So how did I end up playing flute?  I have no idea, but I did.  (I also missed seeing JFK before he was elected President, all because I had to go to French lessons.  Who knew?)

Watching the middle school students last night and listening to them play brought back memories of being a member of my high school band.  I went to a small school (56 in our graduating class), where the only instrumental was band.  A good thing I didn't take up the cello!  Because our junior high shared the building with the high school, we 7th and 8th graders were integrated into the high school band.  We were pretty good.  But we got better.

Senior year, the second year without our beloved band teacher.

My freshman year in high school, we were introduced to a new music (band and vocal) teacher.  He was young, had a wife that was just as young and fun, and two small children.  We adored them, and especially him, whether band members or vocal music members.  He worked us hard, especially the marching band.  We went from a disordered bunch of kids on the football field at halftime, scrambling to find our places to create a cherry tree (George Washington) and a stovepipe hat (Abraham Lincoln) to a precision, synchronized marching band.  You've probably seen college bands perform during football games

Goofing off after a parade (no, not me)

that do the same on a much bigger scale.  We had no idea how our movements appeared to onlookers as we zigged and zagged across the field, eight steps to each five yards, while playing.  Or marched in a parade, all in same step, while dodging piles of horse...well, you know.  Bill. Rotter knew not only how to teach music, he knew how to make playing it a joy.  He could also play a mean sax and piano.  One of my best memories is of him playing the piano and singing the song, Little Egypt for us.  (Only 'us oldies' remember it. ☺)  He was fun, he was talented, and he was the best.  His second year, we competed in a state marching contest and won a I rating, the highest.  The nearly 6 hour round trip was worth it.  He

Napping-or trying to-on the bus

left us a year later, moving on to direct at a community college in Pratt, KS.  Some of us visited him and his family there one weekend.  One very memorable weekend with good friends, not simply a former teacher.  He's now in Oklahoma, directing a band of his making and bringing enjoyment to many.

Those are the things that went through my mind last night, as I watched the 6th, 7th, and 8th grade bands and orchestras perform.  When Carol of the Bells played, I remembered singing it in vocal music.  It's one of my favorite songs of the Christmas season.  But our favorite in band, not played last night, was Sleigh Ride.  Each time we played it i concert, the audience was on its feet, applauding and cheering when it ended.  I can't hear the song without thinking of Mr. Rotter, standing before us, waving his wand, while we made magic the way he taught us.  We were blessed, and they continue in our memories.

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ~ Victor Hugo

The Music of Our Lives

Procrastination isn't all that bad.  It can bring on a bit of nostalgia.

While listening to one of my playlists as I work on edits, a sudden urge to check out Burton Cummings of  the band The Guess Who hit me.  That led to learning that he and Randy Bachman (Bachman Turner Overdrive aka BTO), who was a member of the band for a while, co-wrote many of The Guess Who's hit songs.  And to think I saw them in concert in 1970.

For Christmas in 1967 I received my first stereo record player.  It looked similar to this one ↑, and I was wildly ecstatic.  Stereo, for goodness sake!  And an album to play on it, too!  Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence.

I grew up in a home that where music was listened to often and appreciated.  Sure, that meant watching The Lawrence Welk Show, a favorite of my parents for many years, but I can now recognize many of the songs from the 1940s---yes, before I was born--and the bands and vocalists from the era.

When I was four-years-old, my parents bought a small, neighborhood grocery store.  The memory of those two or so years are still strong.  In the far back corner of the store, near the meat counter, where a real butcher worked, a radio sat high on a shelf.  Music played all day long, much of it Country-Western music.  To this day, listening to Tennessee Ernie Ford singing Sixteen Tons is like being in that store again.

Growing up, my next door neighbors were more like family to me, an only child.  They were the ones who took me trick-or-treating every Halloween, taught me how to play jacks, hopscotch, to shoot a basketball and ride a bike.  The oldest was a teenager in high school, about the time I was eight, and Kay plastered her walls with Elvis Presley.  To this day, I've never swooned over him.  I usually cringe. :)  Between Kay and her younger sister Margaret, they had a record collection of 45s that were to die for.  Pat Boone, Ricky Nelson, Eddie Fisher, Connie Francis, Bill Hayley and the Comets, and more.  I was allowed to borrow them.  At my first slumber party (today's sleepover) in third grade, we managed to crash & break my bunkbed by swinging on the end of it, while we listened to Perry Como singing Hot Diggity.

A quick jump forward to the early 60s.  Neil Sedaka,, the Four Seasons, the Everly Brothers, Brenda Lee, Chubby Checker, Johnny Mathis, Little Richard were only a few of the hit-makers.  We learned to do the Twist, the Mashed Potato, and the Locomotive.  Then came cruisin' music and surfer music--The Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, The Hondells, the Safaris.

And then came the British Invasion.  The Rolling Stones getting satisfied, the Dave Clark 5, The Byrds, The Monkees and the never-to-be-forgotten Beatles topped the charts.  I still listen to Marvin Gaye, The Mamas and Papas, the Temptations and the Lovin' Spoonful and so many I can't list them all.  Those were the groups of my generation, the generation that protested The "War" That Shouldn't Have Been.

I still listen to all of those groups and their music.  My playlists are endless, and I've learned that William Congreve's "Music has Charms to soothe the savage Breast" is still as accurate today as it was in the 17th century.  Music can comfort and uplift, energize and calm.  Listen to your favorite music and refill the well of your soul.

Music is the universal language of mankind. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

'Twas the Night Before Halloween

'Tis the Eve of the Eve.  All Hallows Eve, that is.  Yes, tomorrow is Halloween, the time of ghosts and ghouls, princesses and ballerinas, ninja warriors and transformers.

Halloween has become my favorite holiday.  Usually it's spent watching television and answering the door once or twice.  There aren't many trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood, so a big bag of candy would last for years...if not eaten by my own g-kids.  But a tradition of watching favorite Halloween movies is as good as it gets.

This year I've chosen two movies.  Hocus Pocus and Practical Magic.  After all, it is the season of the witch.

I remember walking through my neighborhood as a child, accompanied by the older next-door-neighbors, collecting a large paper bag of goodies that seemed to last forever.  My mother nearly always made my costumes.  Homemade were always the best.  I was a monkey, a bride, a clown, and more than I can remember.  There are home movies I can watch, if I really wanted to a list.  Maybe next year.  The most

memorable Halloween was the year I was a Pilgrim/Dutch Girl.  Yeah, a bit weird, but the costume resembled that of a Pilgrim, complete with a yellow pig-tail wig, and those older-than-me neighbor's let me borrow their grandmother's wooden shoes for the evening.  They weren't all that comfortable, either.  We stayed within our own block, both across the street and the street behind us.  Two blocks of goodies, and everyone had something to pass out.  As we approached one house, a witch appeared from the side of it, scaring me.  I truly believed it was an old, scary witch, and I took off running for home and screaming.  In the process of trying to run in a pair of too-small wooden shoes, I lost my hat and my wig, arriving home frantic, crying, and shouting that a witch had tried to get us.  My dad looked at me and said, "Looks like you lost your hair and hat, too."  Devastated that I'd lost part of my costume, I begged him to go back for it, but to watch out for the witch.  I waited, afraid the witch would catch him, but he returned some fifteen minutes later, with Pilgrim hat and wig in hand.

I hit the age of twelve, grew up, and had just moved to a small town.  Life changed and so did Halloween.  But life in that particular town was exciting.  Pumpkin patches were raided, and the main street was littered with smashed pumpkins.  An outhouse or two was stolen and placed in the center of town.  Small fires and bales of hay littered the street.  Costumes?  Who needed them?  They'd have only been covered with eggs.  By the Halloween of my senior year in high school, the Sheriff's Department sent officers on horseback to corral the destruction.  But we were smarter and managed to make Halloween memorable.

I married, had children, and found myself creating costumes for my own girls, just as my mother had for me.  We often used items we already had or old fabric left from my childhood.  My youngest's first Halloween was spent as a Gypsy, created from odds and end of clothing we had.

Over time, as more daughters were born and became old enough to knock on doors, we went along with one of their cousins, in the tiny country town near where we lived.  By then they'd become fairly good at minding their manners with "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You," as we visited the homes of friends, family and neighbors.  During all that time, we went through a wide range of costumes.  Devils and angels, a tough kid with a black eye, a cheerleader, a ballerina, and an Indian Princess.  (That's the boy cousin during one of his robot phases).  The last costumes I made were four genies, all in different colors.

My girls grew up and had their own little Trick-or-Treaters, and at times, I was coerced into making a few costumes for them.  There are five to created for, and it can take some time an imagination.  Although we'd planned a Peter Pan theme this year, time got away from us--thanks to that family wedding less than two weeks ago--so we're sticking to face painting only, this year.

2009 with all 5 g-kids and oldest daughter

2011 in full costume and looking great!

2012 and, oh, how they've grown!

Not too bad for a group with different tastes and desires, not to mention from help from Goodwill and anything we found around the house, some years.  Yes, that's my crew, who are here to drive me to cackling.  An almost 12-year-old, an almost 11-year-old, a 9-year-old, 6-year-old, and the youngest is 4. 

I haven't dressed up for Halloween for a long, long time.  I've been too busy with costumes for the others to have time to think about me.  But this year, I was invited and attended a party at the home of a local author friend.  Just dressing up at the last minute, grabbing this and that from my closet and painting my face was fun.  The party proved even more fun!  Maybe next year I'll give more thought to it.  The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, Maybe?  It's a thought...

Enjoy your 2013 Halloween, whether you're partying, escorting off-spring or off-spring of your off-spring around the neighborhood, or simply sitting at home, thinking of the times gone by.  Because it's believed by some to be the night the veil is lifted between our world and the world beyond, think of the loved ones you've shared with on some of those past Halloween nights.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

But I love Halloween, and I love that feeling: the cold air, the spooky dangers lurking around the corner. ~ Evan Peters