December 02, 2007
Where are you now, masked lawman?
By O.C. Stonestreet
My wife didn’t have to get up the other morning, so I left the bedroom lights off as I dressed. I’d already laid out what I’d be wearing for work here at the R&L.
As a last second thought, I grabbed a couple of neckties by feel and took them into the kitchen to see what I’d gotten. One was a nice plaid with red and green in the pattern which would look “Christmasy.”
The other was what is referred to in the trade as a “novelty tie.” It was, basically, a printed collage of scenes from the old TV show, “The Lone Ranger,” starring Clayton Moore as the Masked Man and Jay Silverheels as his faithful Native American companion, Tonto.
Also prominently displayed was the Lone Ranger’s horse, the mighty stallion, Silver.
I hung the plaid tie back up and went with the Western motif.
Many are the hours my brother and I sat before the tube watching the Ranger and Tonto bring truth and justice to the early West.
The Masked Man had style. After all, not all of us carry twin .44s that fire bullets made of silver, which was his trademark.
Often the show ended with a perplexed actor asking the question, “Who was that masked man, anyway?” to which the other actor would reply, “I didn’t get his name, but he gave me this,” at which time he’d hold up a silver bullet as the soundtrack in the background rose with the Ranger’s theme music, the “William Tell Overture.”
Folks, that was quality entertainment!
OK, so it was a little hokey.
First of all, I’d like to see anyone shoot a pistol from the back of a galloping horse and hit the gun out of the hand of a person 100 feet away who is also on a galloping horse. Really, now, you’d be lucky if you could hit a livery stable, let alone the bad guy or his gun hand.
And then there was the way the Ranger fought: fisticuffs. Even if the bad guy (look for the black hat) kicked dirt into the Ranger’s face, our hero would not stoop so low as to fight dirty.
And don’t even think of kicking him when he was down. The Ranger waited until the bad dude got up, then resumed the fistfight.
Lessons in manly behavior were being transferred here.
We had other heroes on the small screen: Superman, starring George Reeves; Mighty Mouse (“Here I come to save the day!”); Captain Midnight and the Secret Squadron (brought to you by Ovaltine milk additive); Sky King and his winsome niece, Penny, who flew around in a twin-engine Cessna fighting crime; and, of course, Roy Rogers, his horse Trigger, and his wife, Dale Evans. You’ll notice that Trigger always got higher billing than Dale.
Roy was right handy with a six-shooter, too. He and the Masked Man would have made a good team. Roy also fought cleanly, shot the gun, not the bad guy, and got the pretty girl (played by his wife) at the end.
These characters made an impression on those of us of the Baby Boomer generation, and the impression was a good one: We identified with the good guy.
Most of these shows were aired on Saturday mornings.
Now, if you feel really brave, look at some of the shows that are currently broadcast on Saturday mornings.
My grandson, Blake, 8, is a fan of Sponge Bob Squarepants. I can put up with about 10 minutes of The Sponge. There is nothing offensive about it unless you include the poor artwork, the lack of a plot and characters that are somewhat UNREALISTIC.
Yes, I know might Mouse Mouse battling the nefarious Oil Can Harry was unrealistic too, but don’t stop me, I’m on a roll. And the Mouse was less unrealistic.
It’s the other shows that bewilder me.
Call me old-fashioned, but I suspect that one of the problems of America today is the lack of heroes for young, impressionable people.
Heroes are firefighters who run into burning buildings and peace officers and rescue and emergency medical personnel or Coast Guardsmen going out to rescue some fishermen who disregarded a storm warning, or the 1,000 or so Iredell residents who have died in service to their country since 1860, and h.
Regular people, too, can be heroes, people who put their lives on the line for others, or dedicate their lives to helping their fellow man, like Mother Teresa.
So, I wear my Lone Ranger tie with pride. As a great man once told me, “You have to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.”
If I had silver bullets to pass out, I would, but I do what I can. Occasionally a few people ask, “Who was that masked columnist, anyway?”
And someone inevitably answers, as my theme music swells in the background, “I didn’t get his name, but he gave me this,” at which point he’d hold up last Sunday’s column.
Pass that Ovaltine, would you?
