Being aged in the late 50’s has been an eye-opening experience. Not so much that I have any real medical problems, but due to the radical change in the American Media over the past decade, I feel that I am really being “over medicated”.

Ok, so I do take one medication. It’s for chloresterol and the brand that I take is the same one that advertises that your ugly old relatives are the reason for your high chloresterol rating. Recently there was a report that this medication did nothing to reduce your chloresterol level. But how do you explain that it’s reduced my level by 70%?

Anyway, the media is really the subject of this column. Things have certainly changed in the subject matter that is advertised.

I remember in the early 1970’s the shock I felt when a Tampax commercial came on the TV and that was at about 11 PM at night. Up to then the only tastefully “questionable” advertisements had been for Ex-Lax and Preparation H.

Now we are inundated by a multitude of horrifying medications and the subject matter has no limit. Those of us who watch any of the three network evening news programs are inundated with subjects such as Mucous, Erectile Disfunction, a woman who actually keeps a diary of how much pain she has all day (I’d bet SHE’D be fun at a party!) and Sally Field’s joy over taking only one pill a month. Not only do we get to hear about how great the medication is, but we also get to hear about all of the ungodly problems those medications cause. I am pretty sure that the cure is worse than the original medical problem.

There have been some very interesting ads. Hey guys, how many of you want to sing about your Sexual Disfunction at the top of your lungs in front of a bar full of patrons! “Viva! I’m an Idiot!” That would certainly make your ego shrink.

How about you and your wife’s most erotic moment being in separate bath tubs out in the middle of a cow pasture? I guess when the cow moos you know it’s “the right time”?

Most guys I know would rather commit suicide than admit they had a sexual disfunction. By the way, if any of my friends have this problem, please go on notice that I don’t want to hear about it!

The bottom line is that I am pretty much appalled by all this. Subjects that you wouldn’t talk to your most intimate friend about are now explicitly talked about on TV.

I personally liked the good old days. Even though they advertised horrible things such as Cigarettes, that was pretty much the only bad thing. I’ll take those old days as kids could sit down in front of the TV and the parents would not have to explain the “facts of life”. We also did not have to lose our appetite at the dinner table by hearing comments about mucous, erectile disfunction and diarrhea.

Maybe someday those ads will be replaced by ads for Bosco, Hai Karate cologne and the old, funny Alka Seltzer commercials. It would be a happy déjà vu.

Protecting the brand new Ford Fairlane. January 1956. Saugus, California.

"Gas Pain" (#2)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published May 28, 2008

People of some advanced age, like myself, will fondly remember the old TV Series, “The Twilight Zone”. One of the most memorable episodes was the one from October 1963 with William Shatner (pre-Star Trek) as the airline passenger who looked out of his window seat toward the wing and saw a Gremlin crawling toward him. His open-mouth shocked look was classic!

Lately I have had that same, open-mouth shocked look every time I pass a gas station!

When I addressed the problem of high gas prices recently I received the same shocked look from a 30-something. He could just not believe it when I told him that I remembered when you could buy gas for 25 CENTS a gallon! I guess he couldn’t believe that people lived that long!

Way back in the dark ages – in 1969, when I graduated from high school, my father gave me his 1956 Ford Fairlane that he had bought brand new. It was pretty basic as it had no seat belts, no power brakes, no power steering (it had a BIG steering wheel), vacuum windshield wipers, an AM radio and a 292 engine with a 4 barrel carburetor. It could lay rubber even though it had an automatic transmission.

I remember being able to fill up its 18 gallon tank for about $4.50.

I also remember being chastised by a friend one day near Clear Lake in 1971. We had driven, separately, down from Eureka and we pulled into separate gas stations in Upper Lake. He gave me a bad time for being “extravagant” in paying 35 cents per gallon when he only paid 25 cents per gallon. By the way, he was driving a 1970 Plymouth Road Runner that got near zero miles per gallon!

On that trip I had stopped by a very remote gas station on Highway 101 and drove right out. Its price was 50 Cents per gallon. I told myself that unless I was almost out of gas I would NEVER pay that much.

I was in the Navy at that time and had to travel a lot from Oroville to Alameda, in the Bay Area. I would always stop by on Northgate Boulevard in Sacramento. They had something going on called a “gas war” where two gas stations near each other would fight between each other to offer the lowest price (boy do we need that now!). The ones on Northgate Boulevard were offering prices somewhere between 18 and 25 cents per gallon.

Gas stations would also compete for your business by offering prizes for a fill up. I remember stations offering a set of special “Flying A” drink glasses, a “76 Union ball” for your radio antenna, a “TigerTail” for your car from ESSO who used to “Put a Tiger In Your Tank” and various Bobble Heads from local sports teams in the area. I had a whole assortment of LA Dodgers bobble heads from Chevron when I lived in LA in the early 1960’s.

Those were the good old days when oil companies actually competed for your business and the consumer always turned out the winner. They also put the gas in your tank and washed your windshield and checked your oil. I know that’s hard to believe now.

The only solution I see to this present crisis is for us to greatly reduce gas consumption. That may reduce the price. I hope to live to see the day when those who are making enormous profits from us go bankrupt and we are left to be able to operate our automobiles at a reasonable price. Whether that be on ethanol, electricity or some other unknown energy source. That thought makes me smile.

Maybe my good friend John has the right idea. He works for a local radio station and has bought a nice, red, almost-motorcycle that gets over 100 miles per gallon.

As for me I guess it’s time for me to finally get rid of that old, gas guzzling 1971 AMC Gremlin that’s parked out front.

In 1963 Rod Serling would never have written a “Twilight Zone” episode about gas prices that were almost $4.00 per gallon. That idea would have been too unbelievable – even for “The Twilight Zone”.

"Radio Daze" (#3)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published - June 25, 2008

39 years ago this month I first got involved in radio. It was at KAOR, a little 1,000 watt station in Oroville that has now disappeared into radio history.

It was back in the day where a DJ cued up his 45 rpm records or albums, used 4 track carts to play commercials and had to be right on top of every little thing for the 4 to 6 hours you were on the air live.

You needed to make sure that you sounded professional, had no “dead air” and played the records on the right speeds. At first I failed in almost every aspect of these requirements. But, eventually I did pretty well.

It was fun being on the radio but you sure didn’t have much time to goof off. You even had trouble getting bathroom breaks. That is why long songs such as “MacArthur Park”, “Hey Jude” and “Those Were The Days” were very welcome. Each ran from 5 to 7 minutes. Playing the much longer “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” made it seen like a day off.

After my stint at KAOR I entered the military and did many Armed Forces Radio shows aboard the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany off of Vietnam. Those shows were easy and fun as you really didn’t have to worry about FCC regulations. You could pretty well say what you wanted as long as you didn’t anger the Captain. That is something I apparently never did as I was never hung from a yardarm.

I was out of radio for many years but when I entered local Yuba/Sutter radio in 1997 I discovered that things had really changed. Automation had taken hold.

Automation consisted of a computer system that allowed the station owner to pre-program all songs and commercials. It would also allow the DJ to do a live show or pre-record the show. Automation allowed the on-air product to sound much better and it also allowed the station owner to reduce his overhead by being able to run the station with fewer people.

The initial cost of the automation gear was eventually made up for by the owner not having to support a big payroll.

It used to be that when you heard a local radio show you knew that there was a live person on the air talking right to you in real time. Now you’ll never know if that is true or not. Automation “voice tracks” sound very good and I would say that most of the time what you are hearing has been pre-recorded.

Some may say that radio has become too corporate. That may very well be true. Corporations have bought radio stations just for investment opportunities. That is why you may see one of your favorite radio stations just disappear and then reappear the next day with an entire new format and staff. That happens all the time in the Sacramento area.

I have now been out of radio for several years. But the last 2 years I was on the air were my favorite. I was able to work my regular 8-5 job and then go into the radio station at night for about an hour and record my 5 hour radio show for the next day.

I caught the radio bug in 1962 when I was 11 years old in Los Angeles. I remember hearing a DJ on KRLA introduce and talk about “Duke of Earl” by Gene Chandler. I found it so amazing that you could be affecting the lives of thousands of people from a little dark booth in a radio studio. That amazement and excitement have never left me.

I feel very fortunate to have been able to work in radio beginning in the late 1960’s with manual equipment and finish my part time radio career with the experience of automation in 2005.

Over the years I worked in several music formats; Current Top 40, Oldies, Country and what I call “Sinatra era stuff”.

I also have been able to work with some wonderful radio people. Their help in getting me through some of my radio stumbles will always be greatly appreciated.

Many DJ’s have had full time careers for decades at local stations here in the Yuba/Sutter area. Compared to their experience I certainly know that my part time radio career only amounted to a very tiny blip on the radar of radio history in Northern California. But I had a great time.

Do I miss radio? Well, back in 1969 a very prominent DJ once told me, “Once radio gets into your blood, it never leaves.” No truer words were ever spoken.

Joe Getty, Me, and Jack Armstrong at Lincoln, California. September 2005. Armstrong and Getty have the top rated talk show in the Sacramento area on AM 650 KSTE. Great show!

“The Dave Clark Five Revisited” (#4)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published July 23, 2008

Several months ago, my favorite Sacramento talk radio morning team, Armstrong and Getty really blew it. They actually criticized the worth of the old rock group “The Dave Clark Five”. DC5 had just had two headlines this spring; they had been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and their lead singer, Mike Smith, had just died.

Immediately Armstrong and Getty received a flurry of e-mails (including one from me) setting them straight that the DC5 really was a great rock group. I, for one, was rather surprised that anybody else but me really cared. After all, the DC5 had their song hits 40+ years ago between 1964 and 1967 and I figured that it was so long ago that all of their other fans were dead.

With hits like “Glad All Over”, “Because”, “Catch Us If You Can” and “Over and Over” they are still a regular on oldies radio.

I know that every generation has its great songs and every younger generation thinks the prior generation was very old fashioned in their musical tastes. But there are exceptions like my 29 year old son Alan. He grew up listening to (or brainwashed by) my music from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s and is still a great fan of The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Boston and Deep Purple. I am proud to have exposed him to interesting, and somewhat weird music.

DC5 was just one of the British groups that came along on the Redcoat tails of the Beatles in 1964. There were, among many others, the Searchers, Freddy and the Dreamers, The Animals, The Kinks, Yardbirds and Herman’s Hermits. And don’t let us forget the one group that has stayed together for over 45 years and is still touring – The Rolling Stones. However there is still a great debate over whether or not they really are still alive. Their looks certainly bring up the possibility of their earlier death.

I have actually gotten to see some of these old folks in concert; The Moody Blues, Eric Burdon and the Animals, Peter Noone of Herman’s Hermits, Rod Stewart, Eric Clapton and the great Paul McCartney. I actually met Peter Noone and consider him one of the best, and funniest, concert acts I have seen.

In addition to British acts I have also seen Steppenwolf, Simon and Garfunkle, the Eagles and John Fogerty. I have also seen, individually, half of the Monkees; Mickey Dolenz and Davey Jones. They were all pretty well preserved and age had not dulled their voices one bit. They even had the presence of mind to leave their wheel chairs off stage.

A few of my “old” friends got together the other day and surprisingly agreed on something; we all had quit caring about “new” music about the same time. That was about when disco died in the mid 1980’s and we were all about 35. We all seemed to lose interest and regress back into the past. I have pretty much stayed in the past and have listened mostly to oldies radio stations ever since.

I guess we all decided we really had nothing in common with the new music about that time and were satisfied to just retain our musical memories.

My situation was a bit different because my work in radio did place me in the position of being able to play and review the new music near the turn of the last century. I think there were maybe 3 or 4 new songs I liked. In other words, I was not really that impressed.

But let’s face it - we like the old music because we grew up with it and it brings back memories. Every time the 1966 song “Daydream” by the Lovin’ Spoonful plays I feel all warm and fuzzy. On the other hand, every time I hear Bobby Goldsboro’s “Honey” I get nauseous, just like I did when I heard it a million times back in 1968.

It’s nice to know that stations like AM/FM KUBA and KCEZ FM in Chico carry on the tradition of playing the “old fogie” music that I like. They are also carrying on the tradition of the old Yuba/Sutter Top 40 stations of the 60’s and 70’s. Do you remember when KMYC and KOBO played Top 40 music?

Well, I guess I should have not been so hard on Armstrong and Getty. After all they are just youngsters in their mid 40’s. Maybe 20 years from now they’ll have the opportunity to be listening to an “All - Snoop Dog-Rap-Mariah Carey-Britney Spears – all the time” radio station and really love it. And they will be welcome to it.

As for me, I’ll just continue to listen to old, obscure “oldies but goodies.” I’ll also ponder the great mysteries of life – like, “whatever happened to my old Jan and Dean albums?”

“Gambling Their Life Away” (#5)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published August 20, 2008

Prior to the 1980’s there was only one city in California where you could legally gamble. That place was Gardena, in south Los Angeles County. It was the “Gambling Capitol of California” for many decades. I happened to live in Gardena from about 1958 to 1963.

One of the most prominent gambling establishments at the time was only two blocks from where I lived. It was the Horseshoe Club that was located on the corner of Vermont and Rosecrans Avenues.

People for miles around flocked to Gardena for their gambling recreation. It was the only game in the state and if you didn’t like the card games in Gardena you were forced to travel all of the way to Nevada to toss your money around.

All through my growing up years my parents taught me that gambling was a vice, could become an addiction and existed mainly to separate people from their hard earned money. Those of us who resided in Gardena perhaps carried around a bit of shame. I know at my very young age I certainly did. It surely wasn’t something to brag about that you lived in the only city where gambling was allowed.

In the 1980’s the residents of California approved the California Lottery and, shortly thereafter, local gaming casinos started appearing.

Now instead of driving 150 miles to Nevada you can just drive a few miles to your local casino and take your chances on winning big.

Let’s face it – casinos are now fixtures of our local economy. The tribal casinos provide much needed jobs and income to their tribe members. They also provide very nice places to see entertainment. Over the years I have gone to local casinos to see acts such as Steppenwolf, blues great Robert Cray and the Monkee, Davey Jones. It’s great to see these acts that would not normally come to our part of the state.

But never have I gone to any of the local casinos to gamble. Maybe it is my past prejudice of having lived in a seedy little town where gambling was looked down upon.

To me, the irritating thing about the local casinos is some of their advertising. Those TV commercials present a world where everybody is handsome and beautiful, very well dressed, rich and winning! There is much laughter and excitement from the beginning to the end of the commercial. But there are a few things missing.

Each time I have been to a casino I don’t see those handsome people. Rarely do I see any winners and some people who I see generally look like they are down on their luck and really, really need to win. I ask myself, “Where are all of the beautiful, rich, happy people I see on TV?”

Logic will tell you that a “big winner” must be hard to find. Certainly if everybody who gambled won a lot of money the casinos would be out of business in no time.

I also note that the casinos are always bragging about their new additions of bigger hotels, showrooms and casinos that they have just completed. Did you ever ask yourself just how they are able to afford to build these classy new additions? Can they afford them if most every gambler is winning big? I think not.

I am most familiar with the two casinos in Oroville. They both started small. Some of their original buildings were trailers. Over the years they have grown enormously.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that the law of averages creates some big gambling winners and I say “congratulations” to those who have gotten lucky. They are the ones you hear about. But what of those people who have a gambling addiction that ruins their lives just as badly as those who are alcoholics and addicted to drugs. Certainly the fact that gambling casinos are so much closer than they used to be makes it much easier to feed a gambling addiction.

I am reminded of the elderly lady I knew from Oroville who used her credit cards to gamble and who had to declare bankruptcy. How about the man from Yuba City who has put his family’s future in jeopardy due to his gambling addiction?

If you know of someone who has a gambling problem you can contact the California Council on Problem Gambling Hotline at 800-426-2537.

The rare times that I have gambled have not been successful. I will admit that I am not a “winner” and I find gambling pretty boring. When I am in the Reno area my idea of gambling is to play $20.00 on the slots and when it is lost (and I know it will be) I write it off as a fair hour of entertainment. But I would probably have had more fun doing something else.

In September of 2001 I revisited Gardena. The area has become more run down over the past 40 years and the Horseshoe Club is no more. But at the corner of Vermont and Rosecrans is a gigantic, beautiful gambling casino that is much larger than the old Horseshoe Club. Like the ancient pyramids, I just wonder how many ruined lives it took to build.

“Smokin’ at Don’s House” (#6)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published September 17, 2008

Don was the son of a well respected Oroville doctor and he was my best friend at Central Middle School.

It was 1964 and we were both 13 years old. I look back at that time of my life with some ambiguous feelings. It was certainly not the best time of my life as I had a definite inferiority complex. Not only did I have a bad complexion and wore glasses, but I was also the shortest boy in my class. My 7th grade class picture shows that only one person was shorter then me - and she was a girl!

Don was in another 7th grade class and he was even shorter than me. We hung around together for years giving each other moral support. Yes, I suppose you could say we both felt like we were losers.

Like a lot of boys back then, we would not ask girls out who were taller than us. Maybe it’s the same for boys now. Musta been an ego thing. We were both very aware that it was hard to find a girl who was shorter than us. Plus even if we would have found a shorter girl we would rarely have had the guts to say hello to her.

Don and I did try to entice a girl a few times but every time Don would see a good looking, short, girl he would say something silly or idiotic and that would ruin our chances. To this day I am not sure if he did that because he was actually really scared of girls or if he was just nuts. In my mind I still picture Don as a 13 year old version of Barney Fife.

In looking back I think that Don was the perfect friend to help me survive my period of inadequate confidence. Maybe a best friend means someone who supports you in your down times. If that is true, then we were really good friends.

So Don and I spent the 7th , 8th, and 9th grades hanging out with each other doing bike rides along the Feather River, playing “Slot Cars” at the local slot car shop, trying to “skate board” on homemade skate boards and listening to records.

For most of the time Don and I were in junior high school we mainly listened to three bands – The Ventures, The Beach Boys and Jan and Dean. We would spin those albums for hours until their grooves died.

We always listened to records in Don’s room because his dad, the Doc, would really freak out if we played any of our records on his expensive component stereo system in their living room. I remember I really got chewed out one time by Doc when he came home and he found I was playing my Four Seasons album on his system. I guess he was not a Frankie Valli fan.

The most memorable incident that occurred at Don’s house happened during the winter of 1965. It was a cold Saturday afternoon and we had come in from doing some devilment in downtown Oroville. The house was very cold and Don lit a fire in the fireplace.

After a few hours of playing records in Don’s room Don asked me if I would throw another log on the fire. So I tossed a big log and it landed with a resounding thump. Don and I retired back to his room to "go surfin'" with more Jan and Dean songs and closed the door. Ten minutes later we smelled smoke. When we opened the door we realized immediately that we could neither see nor breathe!

The house was completely filled with smoke! Our eyes and lungs were full of smoke. The thump that I had heard was the log striking and closing the flue! Panic immediately broke out and we opened the flue and all of the windows and doors.

In going outside we could see clouds of smoke pouring out of the doors and windows. It took over a half hour to clear the smoke from the house. I was surprised that the neighbors had not called the fire department.

I had grown up in a mobile home and had no experience with a fireplace. I didn’t have any idea what a flue was. Now I knew. Don and I both prayed for salvation from the wrath of Doc when he came home. After assuring Don that I would take full responsibility for this fiasco I made a quick exit home.

The next day Don called me and said that when Doc got home he had some very choice words about me and I certainly did not blame him. After a long explanation from Don a company was called to clean the smell from their Grand View Avenue home.

Surprisingly, the family did forgive me and I was a regular visitor to their home throughout my high school years. Don’s brothers and sister were good friends and his older brother Michael turned out to be a great musical influence on me. He was a big fan of the new rock music. The first time I ever heard entire albums of the Doors, Moody Blues and Cream was off of Mike’s turntable.

In looking back I have nothing but the greatest respect for Doc. In spite of my flaws he treated me well and forgave me for smoking up his house. Sadly, he passed away in 1978 at a relatively young age.

I ran into Michael in 1990 when I was a counselor in Oroville. I thanked him for his musical influence and friendship. He said that Don still lived in Oroville.

Shortly thereafter I did run into Don at a local market. He wasn’t sure it was me and asked me if I was Larry. After I confirmed who I was we spoke for a few minutes. Our conversation made it obvious that we had nothing much left in common.

But the fond memories still remain. Thanks Don.

“The Nuclear War That Wasn’t” (#7)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published October 15, 2008

By 1962 we knew what nuclear war was supposed to be about. We had seen the grainy black and white documentary films of the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. There were even some color films of the wounded victims. We tried to not think about the hundreds of thousands of Japanese who died in those attacks. We kept in mind that many times that number were killed in conventional firebomb attacks during World War II.

We also saw films of the atom and hydrogen bomb tests. There were a lot of those in the 50’s. Those were spectacularly beautiful in their own way. Their power was so overwhelming that it seemed unbelievable that they actually existed.

There had been a whole flurry of novels written about nuclear war. Nevil Shute’s novel “On The Beach” (1957) was the first major effort. It was followed by Pat Frank’s “Alas Babylon” (1959). They were both about the aftermath of nuclear war and how to survive it. In 1962, Eugene Burdick and Harvey Wheeler came out with “Fail Safe”. It discussed the possibility of a technical glitch causing World War III. “On The Beach” and “Fail Safe” were also made into movies.

Even in the Twilight Zone’s first TV season (1959) they included a rather humorous episode about a timid bank clerk who survives a nuclear war – with tragic results.

I suppose that nuclear war was always in the back of the minds of us baby boomers. But who could worry about it seriously? After all, it had been over 15 years since the only wartime use of nuclear weapons and those novels, movies and TV shows were “only fiction” after all. Right?

I was 11 years old and lived in Los Angeles. Being an 11 year old I really didn’t watch the news much. But in October of 1962 we started getting safety lectures from our teachers. They were called “drop drills”. We were told if we saw a sudden flash of light to “stop, drop and roll”. Also to go to the nearest wall, lie down next to it and cover our eyes. We had classroom evacuation drills. In looking back I wonder what was in the minds of my teachers. Did they really believe that these drills would do any good? Would you want to survive if a nuclear war broke out?

My parents tried to tell me what was going on without scaring me. I remember watching the local TV news one night. One local news guy was in a supermarket and one of the ladies in line had three shopping carts full of groceries. The newsman asked her why she was buying so much. Her answer was, “I’m going to get mine before the hoarders come!”

After 13 nerve wracking days the crisis was over and we went back to normal existence. Nobody seemed to really know all the details of what had resolved the crisis.

What we did know was that the Soviet Union had placed nuclear missiles in Cuba. They had been discovered by our high flying U-2 aircraft. President Kennedy had gone on television the evening of October 22nd and announced to the world that he would quarantine all ships coming into Cuba and that all nuclear missiles must be removed.

Kennedy’s options were the quarantine or an air strike against the missiles possibly followed by a full invasion 7 days later.

Kennedy’s Executive Committee argued over these options. Many military felt that a quarantine showed weakness and that we needed to strike the missiles before they became fully operational and then invade.

Some of these missiles could reach Washington DC. The Cubans and Russians could launch a first strike and hit targets deep inside the US within 15 minutes. That was a shorter time than if missiles would be launched from Russia. Plus the Soviets had a very low number of ICBM’s that could be launched and depended more on bombers.

So the quarantine went into place and Soviet ships were turned back. There were a few close calls and Kennedy came very close to launching strikes on the missiles in Cuba. There was even a date and time set for the attack; the morning of October 30th. But the quarantine ended up buying time to negotiate a settlement. What was that settlement? The Soviets would remove their missiles if the US would agree to remove our Jupiter missiles from Turkey and agree not to invade Cuba.

For many years full details of what happened were not available. We now know that Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev had placed the missiles in Cuba as a power play and to keep us from invading Cuba. We had our missiles on the Soviet Union’s borders and he wanted us to feel the same stress. We know that Fidel Castro wanted to launch all of those missiles at us as a first strike as he felt we would eventually invade. He didn’t seem a bit concerned about how we would retaliate against his island. Fortunately, the Soviets retained control over the missile warheads.

We also know what would have happened when the US tried to take out the missiles. There would have been an initial air strike of 576 warplanes with 6 days of continued bombing. The US invasion force was numbered at 150,000 troops in addition to 5,868 US Marines already at the Guantanamo Naval Base.

The question has always been, “What would have been the Soviet/Cuban reaction?” We now know that they had many nuclear weapons operational and ready to fire and it is very unlikely that our air strikes could have taken out all of their missiles. Short range FROG missiles would have most probably knocked out our invasion force. There were several Hiroshima-sized yield cruise missiles targeted on our base at Guantanamo. Then their longer ranged R-12 and R-14 nuclear missiles would have been sent into the continental US. Their range of 1,290 miles was just enough to hit New York City.

With our invasion forces and some American cities wiped out, Kennedy would have had no choice but to launch our nuclear weapons against Cuba and the Soviets. That pretty much says it all.

So 46 Octobers ago our world would have ended. Thank god Kennedy handled the crisis correctly.

It seems that every generation has its own “Pearl Harbor”: Some event that shocks that generation into reality. The most recent was, of course, 9-11.

My generation remembers the “Cuban Missile Crisis” as just such an event. If things had gone wrong the results would have made the Kennedy assassination, Vietnam and 9-11 tragedies pale in comparison. Of course those tragedies, and all of the good things of our world today, would have never had the chance to happen if the “button had been pushed” on that October day so very long ago.

“The Disappearance of Sidney Lloyd” (#8)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published November 12, 2008

In this day of GPS, Magellan, Tom Tom and other navigational aids it’s hard to believe that people still get lost. But they do. Certainly, the recent finding of the remains of millionaire Steve Fossett after 13 months helps to illustrate this point. So you can only imagine what it was like about 100 years ago when somebody disappeared. There was no satellite tracking or air surveillance. Just search parties.

Sidney Lloyd’s story was originally told to me by my mother as she was very young when Sid disappeared. For 60 years she was haunted by the mystery. I am glad to know that she lived long enough to know the solution to his disappearance.

The following story was gleaned from my mother’s reminiscence and my searches through old archives and newspaper articles:

Sid had grown up in Elba Valley. A little valley that included the small towns of Elba and Almo in the southern part of the State of Idaho. The Lloyd Ranch was just south of Elba, only about 10 miles from the Utah State line.

"APRIL 11, 1920"

It was a cold Sunday morning. Sid's age was near 30 and he had hunted all of his life. He prepared for his hunting that morning by donning his "long john" underwear over his 5'9" muscular frame. To that he added a denim "Rosewood" shirt, suspenders, pants and a heavy coat and gloves. On his head he wore the traditional cowboy hat. In his front pocket he stuck his metal "Skeleton" type house key. In his back pocket he kept a newspaper article from the Burley Bulletin newspaper from the month before. He wore his rubber boots over his leather boots.

It had been a very cold spring. The cold had made surviving a tough challenge for Sid, with a shortage of livestock that year. Sid supplemented his diet with whatever he could kill with his Marlin model 1892 38-55 caliber rifle.

Sid was a loner. He never married and took care of himself. In that sparsely populated area of Southern Idaho most people were very independent. The nearest large town was Burley. It is a good 30 miles over the mountains, to the north, as the crow flies.

That morning, with his rifle in hand, Sid left his ranch and walked east, toward the Jim Sage Mountain Range.

One of Sid's favorite places to hunt was in the Savage Hollow area. It was a favorite hunting area for many of the local hunters. Sid had hunted there all of his life.

That morning he walked the more than 5 miles to Savage Hollow. We will never know how his hunting went that day. We will only know that he took shelter up against a cliff on a rocky ledge overlooking the valley. It had offered a great panoramic view in which to watch for deer. Now the day grows colder and the scene is covered with cold, freezing snow.

"THE SEARCH"

Sid did not return that night and Sid's sister, Blanch became concerned. She spoke to their brother Fred who called authorities for help.

Search parties made day long searches for Sid. Ora Matthews, who grew up in Elba recalled, "I was about 5 years old when Sid disappeared. I can remember when my dad, Joseph Whitaker, was helping hunt for Sid Lloyd. Day after day he came back worn out and sad."

Fred Parish, also of Elba recalls, "It had snowed. They tracked him up so far and ran out of tracks...the wind blew his tracks out." Fred also remembers that the search involved a big posse which hunted about three days for the missing man.

Sid's brother Fred took a month off work and searched for his missing brother - to no avail.

Wild tales circulated about what happened to Sid. Cecil Haycock, of Burley remembers, "Many people thought Sid Lloyd was murdered and thrown in a well. That was all baloney...just hearsay, just talk. I know personally that the well was only 10 feet deep because I fell in it once."

And then the search stopped and, over decades, people's memories faded away. But many were still haunted by the mystery.

"SIX DECADES LATER - JULY 16, 1985"

Dallen Ward's father owned grazing rights on the Bureau of Land Management's land in the Jim Sage range about four miles north of Almo. Dallen was 26 years old and had spent that summer herding sheep.

Standing next to a ledge, Dallen was throwing rocks to drive some of the sheep up the ridge when he noticed a gun. It was a rifle sticking out of the ground, barrel end in some three inches of soft, pine needle-covered ground. It was located near a large cedar tree. He curiously looked the ground over and was shocked to also find several bones nearby. Some time later that Saturday he called his uncle, Almo Deputy Bob Ward, who in turn called local detectives.

That afternoon Sheriff Bill Crystal, Detectives Dennis Dexter and Alan Smith and Coroner Paul Young hiked into the area. They dug and sifted the ground and used their metal detector. They found enough bones for about half of a human body. Some bones were inside the rock crevice near the cliff and near the tree. Others were down the cliff as far as 15 feet away. Some bones had been carried off nearly 100 feet by small animals. All told, 117 bones were found. Never found were the hands and the skull.

In their sifting they found fragments of denim, a rubber boot, parts of a leather boot, two old buttons apparently made of bone that may have been from a man's "long johns" underwear, and a cloth "Rosewood" label from a shirt. Also found was a metal skeleton key, the kind commonly used long ago to lock a house.

The rifle was surprisingly well preserved. It did have visible marks where the juniper tree rubbed its metal and stock. The old weapon, a 38-56, bore the model number 1898 and a patent date of 1898. The stock was octagonal and bore the marking "Special Smokeless Steel" and "Marlin Firearms Company". Later, a discharged bullet was found in the ground under 6 inches of soil. The authorities felt that Sid may have tried to start a fire by placing the muzzle of his rifle next to juniper wood and discharging it. This practice was quite common and explains why the rifle's chamber and magazine were empty.

One of the most interesting things found was in the hip pocket of Sid's pants. There they found a newspaper article from the Burley Bulletin, dated March 5, 1920.

This one bit of evidence provided an important clue in dating and identifying the remains. The clipping and other evidence was sent to the Idaho Forensics Laboratory for analysis. Forensic experts were able to unfold the clipping and determine the date it was published.

Prior to dating the clipping the investigators had felt that Lloyd had disappeared in 1921 and a search for newspaper documentation had turned up nothing to assist in the case.

County Detectives Alan Smith and Dennis Dexter, armed with the new date information were able to locate a Burley Bulletin story dated April 16, 1920 that documented the ongoing search for Sid who had disappeared five days previously.

But there had also been two other mysterious disappearances around that time. It would take more research to formally confirm just who these remains belonged to.

It took almost a year, until June 1986, for the final report to come out. The pathologist's report from Dr. Charles Garrison of Western Pathology Associates of Pocatello concluded that the remains were those of Sid Lloyd and that he had died of natural causes; most likely hypothermia.

This report closed the book on the case. But there were more questions. Wasn't it surprising that it took 65 years to discover the rifle and body? Deputy Ward was not surprised. "It is a most inaccessible area, on a steep rocky side hill, right underneath a cedar tree which has probably been there for 500 years."

Sadly, Sid's brother Fred did not live to see the discovery of Sid's body. He died on December 14, 1969 and is buried in Elba's Grand View Cemetery. Fred’s thoughts were full of the mystery of Sid’s fate until his final day.

Two of Sid's surviving nephews filed claims for the gun. The gun had little value, except to hang over a fireplace.

Cecil Haycock, then age 86, remembered his friend Sid. "He hunted deer and everything - in season and out, in them days. He even herded sheep. He was bit by a rattlesnake in his younger days. He was not such a bad fellow...a pretty good guy."

As the snow fell on that April day in 1920, Sid was trapped on the ledge. Little did he know as he closed his eyes for the last time the long mystery his disappearance would cause. But now Sid can rest in peace.

People disappear all the time for many reasons. But most are found quickly. From our Northern California area I am reminded of the case of Leonard D.Tomasso. He was a railroad track foreman who drove the final spike into the Spanish Creek Bridge in Plumas County to complete the Western Pacific Railway on November 1, 1909.

In 1950 Leonard, then in his 60’s, drove his fiancé from Oroville up the Feather River Canyon on Highway 70 to revisit the site of his historic action. They were also on their way to get married in Reno. But they never arrived. Searches in the deep canyons and pools of the Feather River were conducted with no result. No relatives, or anyone else, have ever heard from them. They, unlike Sid Lloyd and Steve Fossett, have apparently been permanently lost in time and space.

“ Situation Comedy Heaven and Hell” (#9)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published December 10, 2008.

I was just a young teenager in the mid 1960’s and thought that TV was one of the best things I could waste my time on. Needless to say I spent a lot of time at that endeavor.

Certainly there were some fascinating TV programs at that time. I mostly remember the situation comedies and, until recently, longed for the good old days of the sitcoms.

I have really gotten burned out on most of the current fare of comedies. About the only comedy I now watch on a regular basis is “The Office”. I just can’t get enough of those ding-a-lings. Maybe that office reminds me of many that I have worked in. But other than that show, I am not really impressed with much else. I find most newer comedies mean spirited, crass and not a whole lot of fun. Maybe I’m just getting hard to please in my relatively old age.

Recently I have been trying to relive some of the good memories of the TV sitcoms of the 1960’s. However, I am having a very tough time doing it. I have discovered that what was once “really groovy” at age 14 is just “really dumb” at age 57.

I was a big fan of the “Munsters”. Now I am totally ashamed that I ever watched that idiotic show. The same goes for “Gilligans Island”, “The Beverly Hillbillies” and “Hogan’s Heroes”. “Green Acres” was just a bit of a step up in the cleverness department so I can still recommend that. I still think Arnold Ziffel (pig extraordinaire) deserved an Emmy.

I also have a warm spot in my heart for “My Three Sons.” I spent many Thursday nights enjoying their sanitized, yet interesting, stories.

In scanning through a lot of the old series from that era I find that the funniest show was not a sitcom. That show is “Lost In Space” and it was not intended to be funny. Back then I really disliked most of the crew and family but really loved the villain Dr. Zachary Smith. He was the only one who had any real personality. Even now the dumb story lines and terrible special effects are hilarious. But I would hate to have to sentence anybody to watch an episode. Talk about torture!

Maybe there is only one sitcom from the 60’s that I still have a great feeling for. It’s the “Dick Van Dyke Show”. Even though we are no longer in the Kennedy administration I still feel that the story lines are fresh and clever and hilarious. The adventures of Rob, Laura, Buddy and Sally are still great entertainment. Maybe because the needs that men have with their wives and fellow employees don’t really change. The concerns that we had in 1962 are still the same ones we have right now. We’re still concerned with keeping our wives and kids happy, being successful at work and making sure that the world never finds out that our boss wears a toupee! Also, nobody has ever been able to fall over an ottoman like Dick Van Dyke.

Back then one of the reasons that I remember really liking the show was that the actor who played their son Ritchie had the same name as I do. Even though he spelled “Mathews” with one “t”. Later I was disappointed when I found out that his real name was Larry Mazzeo. Mathews was just a stage name.

Now I am going to alienate about half of my readership (nothing new). I really don’t think that “I Love Lucy” is very funny anymore.

“I Love Lucy” debuted on TV in October 1951 and ended production as a weekly series in June 1957. There were later some hour long Lucy/Desi Comedy Hours.

I must admit that I was a big fan of the series. Lucille Ball was a phenomenon and one of the most creative comedy actresses and producers. “I Love Lucy”, in its day, was a milestone. Production wise it introduced many major changes in how comedy shows were filmed.

But, then again, I don’t think it’s very funny anymore. I find it pretty depressing actually. I know that the show has not changed. I know that Lucy and Desi have not changed. Most probably I have changed.

In viewing several of the shows recently they all appear to be the same. Lucy has some hare brained idea that she does not want Ricky to know about. She and Ethel spend the rest of the episode trying to do the silly idea. At the end Ricky and Fred find out about it but then all is forgiven. Seems like the same scenario for all of the 179 episodes. But, I must admit that in those episodes there were some real gem moments like “Vitameatavegamin”.

Maybe the real key to my feelings is that when the show was originally on the air we believed that Desi really did love Lucy. But over the years we have found out that they actually disliked each other a lot. He “loved Lucy” so much he couldn’t keep his hands off of other women. They divorced twice.

But rest assured that I do not spend all of my time dredging around in the dusty bins of 1960’s situation comedies. Sometimes I actually find something I like from the 1980’s. Like the recent couple of Bob “Newhart” episodes I saw from 1983. I forgot just how much I really loved that show.

Another guilty pleasure of mine is reviewing my DVD of the old “WKRP in Cincinnati” series. It takes me back to the days when radio was actually live.

Come to think of it, there are also all of those episodes of “Night Court” and “Welcome back Kotter” to review. Maybe there’s hope yet for me to find a few more gems.

“John McCain and Vietnam War Memories” (#10)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published January 14, 2009.

John McCain and I served aboard the same ship. No, I never met him and our times aboard the ship were separated by 5 years. But I do feel a connection.

The ship was the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany. He served aboard that ship for a short time in 1967 and I served aboard it for 12 months in 1972/73.

John McCain flew A-4 Skyhawk fighter/bombers and I flew a desk in the Captain’s Office. Certainly his job was a bit more dangerous than mine even if you count the paper cuts I received.

John McCain left Oriskany by flying off on a mission and getting shot down into the center of Hanoi. I left by walking off into civilian life from the pier at Alameda, California. Obviously, my exit was not nearly as spectacular as his but I remember it vividly.

But, John McCain’s Vietnam story began on another ship. On July 29, 1967 he was in an A-4 Skyhawk aboard the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal. His plane was third in line to take off that morning for a strike on North Vietnam. I have seen the flight deck films of what happened over the next few minutes. It is a vision of hell.

The F-4 Phantom jet that sat across the deck from McCain’s jet suddenly fired off a Zuni rocket. The rocket was launched by stray voltage from an electrical charge used to start the Phantom’s engine. The rocket streaked across the flight deck and struck the belly fuel tank of McCain’s fighter. The tank was torn open and 200 gallons of fuel spilled across the deck and ignited into a fireball.

The flight deck footage shows McCain as he opened his canopy, moved onto the nose of the jet and out onto the refueling probe. He is shown jumping 10 feet into the fire and rolling through the flames.

The pilot in the plane next to him fell from his plane into the flames and was killed. As McCain made his way away from the fire, Chief Petty Officer Gerald Farrier ran ahead of McCain with a portable fire extinguisher. Farrier can be seen spraying a 1,000 pound bomb that had been knocked from McCain’s Skyhawk. The 1,000 pound bomb was sitting in the flaming fuel. Many others joined Chief Farrier in fighting the fire.

Suddenly one bomb, and then many, exploded wiping out most of the men on the flight deck. McCain was blown 10 feet and shrapnel tore into his legs and chest.

As more bombs cooked off, more planes were set afire and more men killed. Then more bombs and ammunition cooked off.

McCain helped to dump bombs over the side into the sea. He also visited the sick bay and saw men with whom he had served that he could no longer recognize due to their injuries.

The crew fought all day and into the next to extinguish the fires. More than 20 planes were destroyed. Most importantly, 134 crewmen were killed and dozens more injured.

With all of its damage the ship and crew were ordered back to the United States. It would take two years for Forrestal to receive enough repairs to return to duty.

But John McCain decided he did not want to return to the United States. He had heard about the high casualty rate of pilots aboard the USS Oriskany and volunteered to be stationed there. McCain reported for duty aboard Oriskany on September 30, 1967.

On October 26, 1967 McCain was on the flight deck of Oriskany ready to make his 23rd bombing run over North Vietnam. The target that day was Hanoi’s thermal power plant that was located right next to Truc Bach Lake.

As he was making his attack run a SAM (surface to air missile) struck McCain’s right wing and blew it off. He parachuted into the lake. His chute barely opened as he struck the water. He broke his left arm, broke his right arm in three places and broke his right knee.

Lieutenant Commander John McCain was a Prisoner of War of the North Vietnamese for the next 5 ½ years. He was incarcerated at the infamous Hanoi Hilton. The tortures he endured are well known. The North Vietnamese knew he was the son of an Admiral. For propaganda purposes his brutal North Vietnamese captors offered him an early release but he refused the release because there were POW’s who had been in captivity longer. Once again he took the hard way out.

As peace neared in January 1973 I remember my boss in the Captain’s Office, CWO Emmett Plimmer saying, “I sure hope that Admiral McCain’s son is still alive.” At that time I had no idea who John McCain was. But Mr. Plimmer advised me that he was the son of an Admiral and the grandson of an Admiral.

January 28, 1973 was the date of the cease fire in Vietnam. The aircraft carriers Oriskany, Enterprise, Ranger and America formed a victory “V” on the Tonkin Gulf. I still have photos I took and some additional aerial photos taken by USS Ranger pilots. Four aircraft carriers together was the biggest target the North Vietnamese had during the war.

This month marks the 36th anniversary of the cease fire and of the agreement to release the prisoners of war. That date also marked the formal end of our involvement in that war.

Because of the cease fire, John McCain was finally released by his captors on March 15, 1973.

I think about the time that John McCain was enduring the horrors in the North Vietnamese Prison. During that time I finished my last two years of high school, went to two formals, goofed off, cruised around, enjoyed social life, tried to ignore those nasty things happening in Vietnam and then went off to war.

Those of us who lived as free people through that time owe him a lot and we need to remember his sacrifices. None of us really realized just how cruel life could get. But John knew.

I waited until after the Presidential election to write this article. I wanted it to be about the man and not about the presidential candidate.

January 1973 was the beginning of John McCain’s road to freedom and his further service to the nation. January 2009 is the beginning of Barack Obama’s term as President. My best wishes to him and I hope he will bring as much pride, honesty and dignity in his service to the nation as has John McCain.

“Just What The Doctor Ordered” (#11)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published February 11, 2009.

Those of us over about 50 years old will remember the inane cigarette commercials of the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Would you believe that there were actually TV commercials with statements from “doctors” who declared that cigarette smoking was good for you? You bet there were. As a matter of fact “Just What The Doctor Ordered” was a slogan for L&M cigarettes in 1953.

Advertising back then had us at a big disadvantage. Most of the time the US Government stayed out of the advertising industry. As long as TV and radio stations did not advertise hard liquor or say nasty words things were fine.

For the most part, most products were pretty mundane. There was no real danger. Toy commercials went on, beauty products went on, beer commercials went on (I loved those Hamm’s Bear beer commercials!), and cigarette commercials went on without much protest.

I must admit though, that some of the most irritating commercials were those concerning cigarettes. I was always having to turn off the “Me and My Winstons” commercials or the “LSMFT” (Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobaccos) commercials. Their musical jingles and irritating narrations drove me nuts. Plus I really didn’t like cigarette commercials as I felt that the product was stinky! Not necessarily unhealthy but really stinky!

Over a few decades, the US Surgeon General produced several reports about how unhealthy cigarettes were and then, suddenly: Cigarette commercials vanished in 1971!

For the record, the last cigarette commercial on TV aired on the Tonight Show. It was for Virginia Slims and aired one minute to midnight on January 1, 1971. That ad featured a model by the name of Veronica Hamel, who later found fame in the TV series Hill Street Blues.

TV advertising was no more and if you really missed Cigarette ads you could always visit them in the magazines.

Certainly cigarettes had been a big part of advertising but we were also used to cigarettes in our daily lives. Smoking was allowed everywhere. There was no such thing as a “no smoking” section in a restaurant or workplace. We all just assumed that smoke was part of the normal atmosphere.

Now when I go to a Nevada restaurant and am asked if I want the “smoking or non-smoking” section I feel that I am back in a time warp. We Californians haven’t heard that term for decades.

I have never tried a cigarette, cigar or pipe. My mother told me she would rather that I did not smoke and I stayed by her rules. I am glad that I did. Call me a “momma’s boy” if you wish but most smokers who I have ever spoken to wish that they had never started.

My father smoked cigarettes in his younger days and then reverted to cigars and pipes later in life. We talked to him about quitting and we had hoped he had. Then, when he died of a heart attack at age 65 we found cigars in the pocket of the shirt he had been wearing. Who knows if quitting would have lengthened his life. But quitting would certainly not have hurt him.

My boss when I worked for Butte County spent all day with a coffee cup in one hand and a cigarette in his other for the entire time I worked with him from 1978 to 1981. He was a good guy and I hope he is in good health.

During that time, I remember that a client came down the hall with a cigar one morning and I was reduced to a long term coughing jag. I finally recovered from it but it was a struggle. We normally just put up with the fumes and didn’t think much about it.

Then when I accepted a job in Yuba County in 1981 I did not know how to act when I found that Yuba County had a work place smoking ban. It was really nice to not have to breathe that stuff in all of the time.

I never could understand the attraction that smoking held for some people. I know that some felt it was a form of rebelling or glamour. After all, hundreds of movies from the 30’s through the 60’s had made smoking “glamorous”. Can you imagine Humphrey Bogart without a cigarette? How about glamour queens like Bette Davis without that cigarette in her mouth?

I knew a very attractive young lady who took great pains every morning to carefully apply her make-up, fix her hair just so and put on wonderful perfume. Then she lit a cigarette and the whole beautiful vision just collapsed in smoke.

With all of the restrictions and health knowledge about smoking I am surprised that anybody does it any more. But they do! Sadly, it is mostly the young who start and stay with it at least until they start to fall apart at middle age and then have to try to quit.

I am reminded of the client who I had in Chico many years ago. He was quite a disagreeable and coarse human being. But the main thing I remember about him was that he always had a cigarette either in his mouth or between his fingers. I mainly remember that his two “cigarette fingers” were stained yellow. I often wondered that if his fingers were such a color what did his lungs look like. He ended up dieing of emphysema.

But have things progressed too far? There are cities in the Bay Area that have passed total bans on smoking. You can’t smoke inside, outside, in city parks or anywhere. Shouldn’t smokers have some rights too? I believe they should.

Smoking, like drinking alcohol, is an enjoyable experience to some. People have their individual reasons for doing their habits. Certainly smoking is not as necessarily lethal as doing heroin or crack cocaine but it has produced a pile of thousands of victims.

I know that it’s very hard to give up bad habits. I have quit drinking alcohol – many times. But I still have an occasional adult beverage.

But I think that many will agree that smoking is no longer glamorous or classy. I remember a bumper sticker that was slapped upon many a chrome bumper in the late 60’s. It read: “Kissing a smoker is like licking an ash tray”. I’ll drink to that!

“Camaro Afterlife” (#12)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published March 11, 2009.

My cat likes to ride in my Camaro. More on that later.

I was sitting around the other night listening to “Highway Star” by Deep Purple. It’s one of those “fast car” songs that really takes me back. Specifically it takes me back to 1973 with me cruising around this area in my 1969 Camaro. That car was blue and had a 327 engine and I put a lot of miles on it in the Bay area and here in the early 1970’s.

I bought it in 1973 when I got back from my second tour of “Nam” that spring. After all, I had spent the previous 7 months floating around in the combat zone on Tonkin Gulf and the money I had saved was burning a big hole in my pocket.

I had sold my ’56 Ford the year before and I really wanted to buy a 1971 Plymouth Barracuda. However, there was none to be found and I located the Camaro as an afterthought. It cost me a whopping $1,900.00. Once I bought it I was not disappointed.

We were constant companions for many years and we had many adventures. The most traumatic, and memorable, was in June of 1975 when I was commuting between Oroville and Chico. The new overpass to Butte College over Highway 99 was being built and, one morning, I was brought to a complete stop at the construction zone. Unfortunately, the white Plymouth Valiant behind me did not stop and the Camaro was slammed between the Valiant and the Cadillac in front of me.

I will never forget the Cadillac driver running back, checking the back end of his car and saying “no damage!” and speeding off. I still think he and the woman he was with were not supposed to be with each other and that is why they took such a quick exit. He never checked to see if I was still breathing or not.

Fortunately, I was unhurt but the Camaro was shortened by about a foot. I had the car repaired and it looked good – but rattled a bit. I kept it until 1978 when I traded it in for (believe it or not!) a wretched 1974 Vega. I know – I musta been nuts!

For decades I deeply regretted selling that Camaro. Along about 1999 I saw some kid from Yuba City High School driving an exact copy of it and said to myself, “Look at that brat! I’ll bet his daddy bought that for him. He certainly does not deserve it. That car should be mine!” So you can see, I had some unresolved maturity issues.

Finally in 2005 I decided to, once again, take the step into Camaro ownership. I answered a newspaper ad for a 1994 Camaro. The seller was Darryl (a Motley Crew fan) from Magalia. He brought the Camaro down to Yuba City one January evening and I fell in love with it. He even provided me with a few photos. The most interesting was one showing the car with about a foot of snow on it.

The car had all of my requirements. It was red, had a very good stereo system and ran very well.

I was impressed and bought it immediately from old Darryl. That Spring I had the car repainted (still red) and had the engine redone. Essentially it was a new car.

What was this? My fifth mid-life crisis? No it was not a “Mid Life Crisis” that I decided to buy a Camaro at my age. What it was about was that I always wanted another one and the time seemed right. Unfortunately, everyone at work, most of my “friends” and even my wife gave me nothing but friendly hassle about it. “Larry must be having a mid-life crisis. He must be having to make up for some sort of ‘lack’ or he wouldn’t have bought that racy car”.

How wrong they were! I just liked the way it looked and it does allow me to relive some automotive excitement.

As an example of the hassle I have had to endure, I received a ‘greeting card’ from my friends Scott and Judy.

The card showed an over weight, sloppy customer talking to a car salesman. In front of them was a low slung, very fast looking car. The salesman asked “what will it take to get you into this car?” The customer said, “steel cables, pulleys and a pound of bacon grease”. Unfortunately, the guy looked just like me!

When GM was developing the car in 1966 they came up with various possible names, including “Panther” and “Chaparral”. But they settled on Camaro as a good name because nobody really knew what it meant. GM said that it was French for “friend” or “companion”. The Ford Motor Company found in a Spanish dictionary that the name meant “small, shrimp-like creature”. Some smart-aleck journalist found a definition somewhere that Camaro meant “loose bowels”. As for me, the name Camaro still means “sleek and fast”.

Happily, General Motors (if they survive!) is planning to produce a new Camaro in the next year. It’s nice to know we may have new Camaros cruising along the landscape. But they better be good. They’ve got big shoes to fill.

As for me, cruising in my older Camaro is a lot of fun. It does help me relive my younger days. Maybe that’s what life is all about – keeping around things that make you happy. No matter how old they may be.

Over the years the Camaro has found a happy home in my garage. Even our cat Sammy loves to ride in the Camaro, especially with the T-top removed. I have a photo of her sitting in my lap enjoying the ride. Why she has her tongue sticking out in the photo I will never know. Possibly she is a Ford Mustang fan at heart.

Someone once told me that Camaros were a “poor man’s Corvette”. Actually, I’ve never been that much fascinated by Corvettes. But Camaros hold a very special place in my life. I am happy to say that I have owned two of the most fun American sports cars ever produced.

“Retrospective” (#13)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published April 15, 2009.

This month marks my one year anniversary of writing this column. This column is about looking back at history and I thought it would be nice to look back at what’s happened in the past year.

I never really gave much of an introduction to this column. There was no explanation about what I wanted to accomplish when I wrote the first one. I just jumped onto a subject, watched it take off, and held on.

It’s been a lot of fun producing the column and I have, surprisingly, had no problem in thinking up subjects for the columns. Things just came to me; things that interested me and things that bothered me. Maybe some of the subject matter also resulted from unresolved issues that I had to mull around in my mind.

I first came to TD editor John Mistler with a column about advertising and how much I really hated the gross subject matter that we had to endure in watching TV. Sadly, that situation has not changed at all and I pretty much avoid most TV because of it. After all, who wants to lose their appetite after listening to “sexual dysfunction and mucous” commercials? Here’s a thought: Maybe if we stop buying the product the commercials will stop!

One really big issue a year ago was gas prices. Funny, isn’t it how a major subject can go away and be replaced rather quickly by a more urgent issue. In May, when I did my column on gas prices some people were amazed that I used to buy gas for less than 25 cents a gallon. Now we’re all even more amazed that the price has tumbled and we have much more to worry about. Last spring we had no hint of major layoffs and stock market plunges. Maybe next year at this time we’ll be out of this mess and into something else. Hopefully, that “something else” will be regarding something totally unimportant, like how many more plastic surgeries it will take to rebuild Michael Jackson.

I did get some very good feedback on several of my columns. My e-mail account was visited quite a few times regarding the “Cuban Missile Crisis” column that I did in October. It really sparked some memories from folks my age about where they were when everybody thought we were going to breathe our last. They also had quite a few conflicting comments on just how good a President John Kennedy was.

I was thanked on the street by a reader for writing the article on John McCain from this past January. I received a lot of good comments about what a great guy he is and sorrow over the horrible treatment he received at the hands of the North Vietnamese. John may have forgiven them but I haven’t.

Several folks were quite upset that he lost the election. In looking back I figure that he lost the election due to his age, his relatively unknown VP pick and an unmovable force by the name of Barack Obama. We’ll see if the country made a big mistake or not. I hope we did not.

The article on cigarette smoking from this February sparked some disbelief. Many folks could not believe that it had been 38 years since the last cigarette commercial aired on TV. I agree, those rotten commercials still haunt me as if it was yesterday. Whether you like smoking or not, most of us felt those commercials were really obnoxious.

I did receive e-mails about my August article on gambling in California. One writer took it as an anti-gambling article and pointed out that casinos employ a lot of people and help the economy. I can’t argue with that. My purpose in writing the article was to give a history of how it has spread in California. While I am basically against gambling and would like to see it go away, I am more bored by it than anything else. I am much more interested in getting compulsive gamblers who are ruining their lives to kick the habit.

By the way, I spent a few days in Las Vegas last month and am amazed that, even with this poor economy, they are still building new casinos! There still must be a lot of losers in southern Nevada. No, I did not gamble a bit.

My article on local radio in June prompted a few e-mails from people who wanted to get into the radio or media business. I could only tell them that it’s a risk to assume that a full time radio job will keep food on the table. Rarely have I seen radio people stay in the business long term. KUBA’s Moe Howard is an exception as he has been in the business for more than 30 years – and he still sounds great.

As a matter of fact one of our local sports radio guys was recently laid off from his full time gig. He is one of the best I have ever heard and makes my contribution to local radio pale badly in comparison. Job instability in the radio business has always been the norm.

If you have read any of my other columns you will note that I try to tie a subject into some personal experience I have had. Certainly my articles on local radio, rock music, Camaros, TV in the 60’s, and the end of the Vietnam War were just as much about my experiences and foul ups as about the overall subject matter. But then, I’ve never been one to shy away from bringing up my personal flaws and screw ups to better illustrate a story line.

I’ve been strongly influenced by certain writers like H. G. Wells and Mark Twain. Also, a great influence was a local writer of history from Butte County. His name was Bill Talbitzer. He wrote the very fine book, “Too Much Blood” about the Juan Corona murders and many stories about Butte County history. Bill was there several times when I had dumb questions about writing and publishing – and he never once laughed at my inexperience.

Wells wrote about fantasy, Talbitzer about history and Twain was an expert about making great fun of himself to illustrate a point. Hopefully I’ve learned something of substance from the influence of these great writers.

I’ve already come up with several new column ideas and plan on continuing to write this column for as long as they will give me space in the TD.

Next month my column will tackle just how difficult it is to be “technologically challenged”. Don’t worry, it’ll be very interesting. It will also include info on the fun you can have when you dress up your cat in a football helmet. Obviously, the bizarre writing continues.

“Technologically Challenged” (#14)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published May 13, 2009.

Awhile back my son Alan told me about a web site called “Stuff On My Cat”. It’s a site where people post dumb photos of their cats. Some are dressed up or just covered with silly stuff.

I was impressed enough with the site to send an old photo of me holding a cat wearing a small plastic football helmet. Yeah, I know it was a stupid idea then and the photo hasn’t gained any additional intelligence over the years. But it is pretty hilarious.

Once a photo is posted on the site, people can make comments about the photo. Comments about my silly photo were mostly positive. However the comment that really got my attention was a remark about “all of the antique stuff in the background” of the photo.

Of course, my immediate reaction was “what antique stuff?” When I got to look closely at the photo I could understand the comment. The photo showed my phone - it was a dial phone. The photo showed my stereo system - it was a phonograph with a reel to reel and cassette tape player. Thank god I didn’t have an 8 track!

The photo was taken in 1978 and I just didn’t notice how outdated the stuff in the photo was until that smart aleck pointed it out to me. Those of us who lived back then just took that technology for granted. We really thought we were hi-tech!

I’m the kind of guy who waits a long time to adapt to new technology. I didn’t get a color TV until the late 70’s. I also saw absolutely no sense in buying a microwave – until I tried it the first time. Then I bought one right away! Possibly the only technology I readily adapted to was the VCR. I bought a top-loader back in the early 80’s when they were about $400.00.

My old phonograph died about 20 years ago and I never tried to replace it. Many of my old albums I have replaced with CD’s. Sadly, some of the albums are not available as CD’s. I kept most of my old vinyl albums just for posterity. Every once in awhile I get them out and read the jackets. I still remember all of the good times I had with them even with their pops, clicks and scratches.

I got into CD’s pretty early but it took me a long time to get an IPOD. I still can’t understand how they can cram 700 45’s into that tiny little plastic box. But I am sure glad they can. I find it’s a great place to archive all of my favorite songs from the stone age.

We got rid of our phone land lines years ago and I really like my cell phone. But I couldn’t care less about whether I can take photos with it. As long as I can receive and make calls I am perfectly happy. I also have no interest in texting.

A few months ago I told a co-worker that when I began working for local government in 1974 we only had manual typewriters. She responded, “Gee that was two years before I was born!” Thanks kid for making me feel REALLY OLD!

Thanks to my wife I have pretty much been able to adapt to new technology regarding work over the years. She’s the one who insisted in 1998 that we get a personal computer. Since then we have upgraded it and I have learned a lot. I was originally scared of the thing because I didn’t think I could ever learn how to use it.

Since that time I have become quite proficient in dealing with computers. I have used them in both my radio and my bureaucratic careers. I also build web sites.

Way back in high school I learned to type on a Remington manual typewriter. That was high tech in 1966.

Then I got an electric that mostly jammed when I tried to type too fast. Then I converted to an IBM Selectric that had one of those typing balls that you could not jam.

About 10 years ago my job brought in our first computer system. We are presently on our second one. It took quite awhile to get comfortable with but I now pretty much enjoy working with it.

However, sometimes I find myself having to drag out the old IBM Selectric and adding info that can’t be added to forms by the computer. Computers don’t solve all of our problems – sometimes they just create new ones.

I was greatly surprised this Christmas when my wife bought me a new record player. She must have realized that my music listening ability was lacking. It’s been great to play some of my old albums after about 20 years. Sometimes it feels awfully good to revisit old friends.

“The Giant Icon on Table Mountain” (#15)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published June 17, 2009.

Over 300 communities in the United States have Mountain Monograms. What’s a Mountain Monogram? That’s when a community builds a big letter on their local mountain to commemorate either the name of their town or a school in their area.

California has at least 63 of these enormous letters adorning adjoining mountains. We here in the Yuba/Sutter flatlands have no Mountain Monogram. That’s mainly due to the fact that we have no mountain – except the Sutter Buttes and that mountain is definitely off limits to any kind of graffiti.

The nearest Mountain Monogram is at Oroville, and the construction of their enormous letter “O” makes quite a story.

It was in February of 1929 and Oroville High School senior Morrow Steadman wanted a project to remind students at the high school of “cooperation and teamwork, both on the athletic field and in our school activities.”

He thought a big “O” on Table Mountain would do the trick. After all he had seen how great the big “C” had turned out on the hill overlooking Strawberry Canyon near the University of California at Berkeley. Theirs had been the first Mountain Monogram in California.

That sentiment was echoed by Student Body President Rusty Jacobs. He said that there would be a block “O” on Table Mountain if he and Morrow had to build it by themselves. Fortunately they also had help from a few others including Morrow’s brother Ernie.

Classmate Douglas Chambers was Morrow’s choice for surveyor for the project. He took a transit shot from the 50 yard line of the OHS football field to Table Mountain. Then they carried a huge paper “O” up to the mountain and laid it out. From their viewpoint 3 miles away at the high school campus they figured out the correct location for the enormous letter.

Those of us who have hiked to the “O” know just how far and just how steep a hike to the location is. I have hiked to the “O” a dozen times and it’s almost impossible to imagine packing in sack after sack of cement up that steep grade and forming a mold and pouring the cement.

Just hiking yourself to that spot is an exhausting trip. But the view is worth it. On a clear day you can look southwest and see the Sutter Buttes 20 miles away. You can also look west and see the snow covered coastal range at certain times of the year. Looking toward the east, you can see Oroville Dam and its spillway.

Student Ray Johnson’s father owned an automobile shop and he provided a supply of axles. That metal was then driven into cracks in the lava rock to hold the molds so the cement could be poured. Ray Johnson later became a Senator for this area.

Douglas Chambers’ Model T Ford along with three other loaner trucks was utilized to bring the supplies up closer to the steep location. One of the loaner trucks was even flipped on its side while attempting to climb a steep incline.

The boys also built a sled to help them pull drums of water and other material up a very steep part of the grade. This was no walk in the park. This project took an immense amount of physical labor.

Somehow the boys brought a gasoline concrete mixer up to the site. It took over 108 sacks of concrete to fill the forms for the “O”.

For most of the construction there was just a handful of dedicated workers. But once some of the local girls brought up some food quite a number of enthusiastic workers joined them. It’s still a question of what prompted their enthusiasm – the food, or the girls.

Those classmates from the Oroville High School class of 1929 finished building the “O” in a little over 2 months.

When finished it had a thickness of 4”, a length of 87 feet and a width of 33 feet.

Over the years the “O” has been fire bombed (with minor damage), received a lot of graffiti and has been scorched by wildfires. It’s been changed into a “C”, “LP”, “69”, “USA” and an assortment of other figures. But shortly thereafter the unwanted paint, paper or plastic material is removed and it gets changed back to its original “O” shape.

Way back in 1929 many of Oroville’s elders thought the classmates of ’29 were nuts for making such an effort. But the “O” has outlasted that generation and several more. Morrow Steadman, who became an attorney, passed away in 1959. At least he got to see his creation make it to 30 years old.

The “O” was dedicated on June 8, 1929 – 80 years ago this month. It has overlooked our valley through the Great Depression, World War II, nuclear power, the Korean and Vietnam Wars, television, landing on the Moon, computers and September 11, 2001. Not to mention microwaves and the Edsel!

In 1989, Dan Wilson who was a reporter in the Oroville area, interviewed all of the principals in this story. I thank him for his efforts and for giving me permission to use information from his research. Without his efforts, much of the history of the construction of the “O” would be lost forever. Thanks Dan!

I am sure that there are many people who have lived in the shadow of Table Mountain all of their lives who take the “O” for granted and don’t realize the effort that went into building it.

But now when you drive north up Highway 70 and see Table Mountain with its enormous white monogram you’ll know why and when it was built. It’s a great inspiration to those of us who have climbed to its steep heights.

“Mel Blanc” (#16)

THE WAY IT USED TO BE by Larry R. Matthews - Published July 15, 2009.

I feel sorry for anybody who does not recognize the name of Mel Blanc. But mostly I’d feel sorry for those who have never heard his voice. What an impression he has made on me for most of my life.

He was known as “The Man of a Thousand Voices” and every time I think of cartoons with real personality I think of him. As a matter of fact some of my happiest moments as a kid were while I was watching the cartoons he voiced.

Some kids from the 1950’s and 60’s will tell you that their favorite cartoons were from Disney or Hanna Barbera studios. But mine were from Warner Brothers; Loony Tunes and Merry Melodies were my favorites. That was mainly due to the voice and personality of Mel Blanc.

Mel was born Melvin Jerome Blank on May 3, 1908 but he later changed his last name to Blanc due to the insults he had to endure from a teacher who made fun of him because he didn’t think Mel was too bright. He said that his future would be “blank”. Little did he know….

Mel started out in radio and ended up on the Jack Benny radio show doing the voice of Jack’s Maxwell automobile. I understand that it was a treat every week to hear Mel start up the old wreck. Of course I never heard the radio show but I did see and hear him do it a few times on the Jack Benny TV show. Mel was one of the reasons I loved that show also.

During World War II Mel provided the voice of Pvt. Snafu, an incompetent member of the armed forces in training/safety films for soldiers regarding what NOT to do in the military.

Mel did have a brief stint with Walter Lantz Studios where he was the original voice for Woody Woodpecker. He introduced the classic laugh and his “Guess Who?” continued to be used in each cartoon even after he later signed an exclusive contract with Warner Brothers.

Even though most people will say that Bugs Bunny was their favorite character of Mel’s, I always had a great affinity for Yosemite Sam. He was always getting greatly upset, expending a lot of effort and then getting badly hurt. My favorite line of Sam’s was, “Who keeps puttin’ footy prints all over my desert?”

Another deeply frustrated character of Mel’s was Wile E Coyote. He rarely performed Wile E’s voice but always did the “Beep Beep” for the Roadrunner. Wile E was the consummate optimist - in spite of continually being crushed every time he tried to catch the Roadrunner. .

Few people know that the 1964 Jan and Dean song “Dead Man’s Curve” was dedicated to Mel. It was based upon the fact that he almost died in a January 24, 1961 car accident on the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles. In the middle of the song, Jan Berry says, “Well, the last thing I remember Doc, I started to swerve”. Obviously a dedication to Mel and his vocal creation Bugs Bunny.

At the time of the accident Mel was doing the voice of Barney Rubble on the, then new, “Flintstones” cartoon series. He was in a coma for 3 weeks and there were false reports that he had died. During his 6 months of recovery from the wreck he continued on voicing that character. He would record it either from his hospital bed or from his bedroom at home. It must have been quite a sight to have all of the actors doing their voices along with all of the technicians and recording equipment wedged into those little rooms. Add to that the sight of Mel Blanc doing the voices while in a full body cast. He had broken almost every bone in his body.

A Mel recording that was very memorable was Pat Boone’s song “Speedy Gonzales” from 1962. Mel does Speedy Gonzales with an assortment of comments such as “Hey Rosita, come quick! Down at the cantina they’re giving away Green Stamps with Tequila!” (Yes, I do remember Green Stamps …and Blue Chip Stamps too!)

Funny how what was fairly innocent back then is considered not acceptable now. You rarely ever hear this song on oldies radio or see Speedy Gonzales cartoons because he is not now considered to be politically correct.

Years later Mel voiced the character “The Frito Bandito” for Frito-Lay commercials. Some people also found that character controversial.

Mel voiced Porky Pig, Tweety Bird, Dino the Dinosaur, Foghorn Leghorn, Heathcliff, the Tazmanian Devil and even Twiki from the Buck Rogers TV series. So many characters! Probably the two who sounded most alike were Sylvester the Cat and Daffy Duck. They were essentially the same except that Sylvester slobbered a lot more.

Speaking of Sylvester: one of my favorite cartoon characters was his son Junior. Sylvester and his son had a great relationship. They were always trying to catch the “big mouse” who they failed to recognize as a kangaroo! Whenever Sylvester would fail miserably at catching the “mouse” his son would cover his eyes in shame and say, “Oh the shame of it! Oh father, what will the kids in Troop 12 say?” A classic moment. At least it was, and still is, classic for me.

I found myself many times over the years trying to imitate some of Mel’s characters. Sadly I wasn’t very good except when I was imitating Sylvester the Cat. Even then, anybody standing within 10 feet needed to wear a raincoat during my attempt. You just can’t imitate him without slobbering.

Mel Blanc voiced Bugs Bunny for 49 years and Daffy Duck for 52. No one has surpassed those long-time records of voicing characters.

Mel passed away 20 years ago on July 10, 1989 in Los Angeles. As you would expect, on his headstone his epitaph reads, “That’s All Folks!”

After all this time his voice still brings joy.

TV Cowboys had a great effect on little cowpokes. Even Cowgirls. Yep pardner, I'm the highly intelligent looking child on the left. I am with Carla Smith and Carolyn Bolding, who will probably never live this photo down. Taft, California. 1953.

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