A TV Star is Born

In this entry, I've set the "Way Back Machine" to the years 1964 and 1965, when I was starting my senior year in High School. During those four years of being a socially maladjusted child, I was not good at sports, so I gravitated to the Stage Crew, and became a Lesbian, er, I mean a Thespian. I learned how to operate the sound board, and the carbon-arc spotlights in "the booth". I loved Junior Vaudeville, where all the pretty girls would sing and dance. As I recall, it was a confusing time in my life and I was not any good with girls - I couldn't get to first base on a wild pitch, let alone a walk. I needed to improve my confidence, so I got involved in Junior Achievement, and extended my technical skills set.

I lucked out and found myself in a "company" sponsored by the (then) NBC affiliate in Indianapolis, where I was among 29 other high school Juniors learning all about the television business. The call letters were WFBM, and the mascot was a large St. Bernard dog named Woof-Boom. That dog went everywhere, and was identified with the station, so we called ourselves "Woof Co TV".

This was back in the day where Sunday mornings were a vast wasteland - before being taken over by "talking heads" news shows and sporting events. We were given a half hour time slot and an option for 13 weeks in the Spring of 1965. We had the Fall of 1964 to organize the company, issue stock, sell advertising, and work on production sets. We elected Roscoe Stovall, Jr., our company President (he went on to become the President of the Freshman Class at Indiana University the following year). Ros Stovall, whom I still speak with to this day, asked "who wants to be the host of our programs?". We had decided to have six dance parties, like "American Bandstand", and seven "desk and couch" interview shows of the "Tonight Show" genre.

A young man named Don Worsham volunteered to host "Dance, Dance, Dance" which had the Beach Boys tune of the same name as it's intro theme, and I volunteered to do the "Sunday Show" which was the awe inspiring name we chose for my seven weeks. Don, who arguably had more rhythm than most, did a good job on alternating weeks.

Another fellow named "Larry" (can't recall the last name) sold HALF the sponsorships to Dr. Pepper out of Dallas. I remember he had to fight the television station for his commission, as they didn't expect anybody to make that much money. We also sold shares for a dollar each, and based on Larry's success as Sales Manager, we paid a dividend at the end of the year of $2.40 on that buck.

I did NOT like the taste of Dr. Pepper in those days, so I'd empty the bottle and put Coke in its place, so when I took a sip on camera, I could smile and not grimace. I also learned that when the red light came on, you were going to have to do something other than just sit there and try to look pretty. Today's anchor babes get by on looks, but I was all nose and Adam's Apple in those days. They said I had a face for radio, and in the military I did find myself enjoying radio more than TV, but I had volunteered for this, so I made an effort to look calm and collected.

I did my seven weeks on camera, and found my confidence improve with each taped show "in the can". We interviewed other youth who were making all sorts of other products, generally along the lines of the companies that sponsored them. If the sponsoring company made jet engines, however, the J.A. company stuck to Christmas ornaments or arts and crafts from coat hangers and Plaster of Paris.

By the end of the season, and graduation from high school, I had managed to hit a little better, and was reaching second, sometimes third on a fielding error. I never did steal home, but being a celebrity (in my own mind mostly) helped hone my social skills, and that year's activity also helped me get the assignment I really wanted in the military. Vietnam was just over the horizon in those years, and times were much simpler for high school students. It was the best of times.