JIMBORED REMEMBERS THE INVENTION OF TV AND SEATTLE WORLDS FAIR – 1957

Now that I have pried loose some early memories of my childhood, I find that I am hit with a flood of flashbacks to the past. It is as if I have unleashed long pent up “dogs to the hunt”. In this post, I will try to spill more of these times, onto my virtual paper. The first, comes about during the fall of 1957 and reminds me a lot of the excitement of my early childhood. It begins one Saturday afternoon when Dad gathers up us kids for a trip downtown in Red Deer.

Both he and my Mom were very tight lipped as to the purpose of this excursion. We knew it had to be something big though. Usually with little encouragement you could make Mom “spill her guts” about anything, within a matter of minutes. It seemed to be a family trait and carries on with me to this very day. Me and my secrets were never great companions, and still part ways within minutes of my first encounter with anyone that will listen to me. A simple “hey, howzitgoin” will pry the most guarded personal info from my lips. Mom was the same. So, on this particular day we pile in the car and downtown we go.

It was unusual, but Mom remained at home, although you could feel that she was very much in charge of whatever was going on. Onto Main Street (Ross Street) we go and pull up in front of the local Simpson Sears store. My excitement was kinda lost because I could think of nothing in this store that could possibly interest me. It was too late in the year for new baseball equipment, too early for new hockey equipment and my bicycle was only a year old. Nothing else that they sold could possibly interest me. Dad jumps out and we follow him into the store. If I remember correctly, I am no longer, really curious as to what is going on. I’m thinking a new couch, a new bed (nah just got new bunkbeds), a washer/dryer, table or whatever? None of which held the slightest bit of interest to me.

HIGH TECH LIVING MEETS THE H…..LDS IN 1952

Dad goes up to the clerk and asks “has my parcel arrived?” To which this guy says “sure has Slim, I’ll bring it out to the car”. Even in a metropolis such as this everyone seemed to know my Dad. Back outside we go and soon the clerk comes out wheeling, what seemed like a big cardboard box. Dad opens the cavernous trunk of our car, at that time you could actually fit something in a car. In it goes and with the trunk open, but roped tight, we head for home. Questions about what it was, went unanswered although I don’t remember being too curious about it.

Once home we are met by Mom on the steps up to the living room door. She is scolding Dad already, assuming he is too clumsy to handle her special package. Him and my big brother, manhandle this big box up the steps and into the living room. I now have less curiosity than before and am looking for an escape route outside, to play. Again, under instruction from Mom, my Dad starts to peel the skin off this treasure. None of us kids have yet any indication of what it was. Finally it’s laid bare and to me looks like some instrument from outer-space. It is a huge polished wood box, with a glass window covering most of one side and adorned with tons of knobs and buttons. It then struck us; “TELEVISION” we scream out.

The girls are jumping up and down, Mom is smiling ear to ear and Dad is looking very satisfied with himself. We are clambering for Dad to turn it on and let’s get on with the “future”! We were quickly brought down to earth. Dad now explained that, at this time, the TV station in Red Deer was not yet on the air and wouldn’t be for a few months and that before we could see anything we needed what was called and arial on our roof. However he did concede that we could still fire it up and see what we could see, using the set of “rabbit ears” that came included with the tv. I am now pumped and feel like the luckiest kid in the world.

Just wait until I get outside and tell my friends that we had a new Television! The first one in our neighbourhood! I would ask Mom if they could watch it with me once in a while. I could envision myself being the “hero” of the ‘hood. After what seemed like hours, with Dad fumbling in behind the TV and Mom coaching, coaxing and brow beating him. He was finally ready to hit the master switch. Everyone went silent. He turned it on and…………… Nothing. We just sat there, transfixed. Then after a few seconds a small glimmer of light started to show in the middle of the screen. As it grew we all leaned closer and breathes were coming in short gasps.

The small spot of light slowly grew until a full screen “test pattern” appeared on our TV, announcing in bright, bold pictures, graphs and signs; CHCA Red Deer would shortly be on the air! It was in “black and white” but made no difference to me. What the hell, I had no concept of a color picture at that time, anyway. It was as if the world had just opened to a small boy. It was also, at this point, where “addiction” to the “boob tube” as Mom would call it, started and has lasted for the remainder of our lives. All thoughts of dashing away to play were now gone. I didn’t see myself doing anything, in the foreseeable future, except to watch our new television. And watch we did; for hour after hour day after day we stared transfixed at that test pattern.

I remember to this day, every detail of that “test pattern”. It seemed like forever, but probably within a week or two, Dad’s new arial for our roof arrived. He clambered up onto the roof with Mom instructing him from the ground. She had the one page instructions and was reading them out while he installed and tried to hook up his antennae. To me, he looked like Superman from the comics, holding onto the mast on the Empire State Building. Oh my god what excitement. Everyone from the neighbourhood was gathered to watch my Dad, fall off our roof. Job done, we went back inside and eagerly awaited the turning on of the TV.

The station in Red Deer was still not operative, however rumour was that with an arial on the roof you could get one station from Edmonton and another from Calgary. Hooked up and turned on, and after much fumbling and adjusting, we were rewarded with movement on the screen. It looked much like some shadows fighting their way thru a blinding snow storm. But, it did have sound and movement. I felt as if I had just had my first glimpse of heaven. We faithfully gathered around to watch this “blizzard” each day after school. Depending on time of day, direction of wind, precipitation, alignment of arial and any number of other factors, the viewing range could be from a low of “impossible” to a high of merely “terrible”.

Nonetheless we watched it, enthralled. It was three months later and just prior to Christmas when CHCA Red Deer finally went on the air. Finally we had a clear picture to watch. They televised from 4:00pm to midnight on weekdays and 4:30 to 11:30 on Saturdays and Sundays. My favorite shows of the time were Hockey Night in Canada, Disney World (on Sunday evening), The Last of the Mohicans, Ed Sullivan (also Sunday evening) and all star wrestling (my Mom’s personal favorite). This tv stayed in the family for ten more years until color tv broadcasting started in about 1966. WHEW, I’m happy that’s out!

DRAGGED KICKING AND SCREAMING TO THE SEATTLE WORLD’S FAIR

The next recollection of my childhood was of a great event, and maybe my introduction to a life of travel. So, in the summer of 1962 Mom and Dad decided to go see the Seattle World’s Fair. In honour of this event my Dad got busy in his shop, after hours, and built a car top carrier for his big ol’ 4 door, V-8, Pontiac vehicle. And a masterpiece it was. He mounted it on the rooftop and loaded everything we would need for a two week excursion to Washington State. Our cargo looked like a dead moose lying on top of this car. It held tent, clothes, food, camping gear, a couple of wooden lawn chairs and god knows what else. Over top he tied on a 12’x12′ tarp so not one tiny piece could flap in the wind.

He piled us all in and announced, “everyone better go to the toilet, next stop Seattle”. Oh great I thought, maybe a three hour trip. How little did I know! My older brother “L” was allowed to stay home and miss this trip as he had now reached the ripe old age of 17. He was awful quiet and nice leading up to our departure.He knew that any sign of bad character was going to get him piled into the car along with us. Up to the point of departure Mom was still second guessing their decision to leave him behind. He was walking on eggshells. As we left, I know I could hear him shouting out YYEESSSSS!

We left from Red Deer early one bright and sunny morning.Well it would have been sunny, had the sun been up at that time. We were loaded with food, games, treats and things to keep us amused on the trip. With the absence of my brother I now graduated to a window seat. My little sister “S”, after her falling from the car a few years earlier, had no chance of ever getting a door seat, until she was well into her twenties. Off we went. We played, sang, fought, bickered and complained for what, seemed like, sufficient time to get us well into the Seattle area. When I enquired, Dad said get comfortable we are just about to leave Alberta and head into BC. We will stop for the night soon. “Hold it, wait up, whatcha mean stop for the night? I didn’t sign up for this.”

Looking back now, I can kinda understand where Ron and Ange got their dislike of their Dad’s (my) road trips from; in those years after I took over the wheel and was second in command of travel. A side note; I never did graduate to ever being in full command.”

Anyway we make our first stop. Dad unloads everything from the car-top carrier, sets up a tent, makes a fire and cooks us a campfire dinner. It’s now approaching dark so the five of us pile into the tent for a sleep. Geezus, after what seemed like a few minutes and just as I was finally finding a place to sleep, on the root, that I was allocated to sleep on, Dad is up and tearing down the tent around our ears. He let’s out one of his favorite wake up calls, which went “DAYLIGHT IN THE SWAMP GRAB YOUR……… AND PULL ON YOUR PANTS”. “IT’S TIME TO GO!” And go we did. Back in the car, not so festive now I might add. Because we were into the mountains, the sun was still a long way from “peaking” over the nearest peak.

We drove hard, up and down, round and round for what seemed like hours. Then Mom spots a sign that reads “fresh BC fruit, 1 mile”. The girls are like, “can we stop, please Mom, please, please?” Dad is firm, nope we’ll not be stopping for a few more hours. One mile later we pull into the fruit stand, Dad in protest, but doing, exactly, what he was told to do by Mom. We pile out, fresh peaches, plums, apricots, cherries and all sorts of exotic fruits. Mom buys a few small boxes and separates them amongst us in the back.

For a while there was quiet as we gorged ourselves on fresh fruit, something like we had never tasted in Alberta. Soon the, unused to “fresh fruit” stomachs, started to make some churning sounds. Within minutes there was an urgent need for bathrooms. I don’t remember much of our trip thru BC, other than bathroom stops every few miles. Boy was my Dad happy. In any event we made it all of the way to the outskirts of Vancouver and after another campout, headed early the next morning to Seattle.

I remember my first sighting of Seattle; for me having been raised in Red Deer which I thought was one of the biggest cities I would ever see, Seattle was an eye opener. The traffic was insane. As we drove endlessly around the perimeter Dad pointed out the Space Needle in the centre of downtown, away in the distance, and the final destination of this epic trip. I think everyone was excited, but I am sure they were all as awe struck and intimidated as I was. Dad and Mom had located a campground to stay at just outside of the city, but still within striking distance of the World’s Fair. This time the car was completely unloaded, top, back, trunk and under seats.

We had a significant pile of stuff, but soon it was put together and we (the girls and I) were off looking for friends to play with. I don’t remember a great deal of the actual Fair, other than being dragged and pushed into an elevator on the Space Needle. Then sky rocketed up a few hundred feet in the air at, spaceship speeds. On top, Mom tried to get me to look over the side, but no way. If the fruit had make me wish for a bathroom, this view made all of my bowels turn to liquid. It was all I could do to stand upright. Dad is as close to the edge as you could get and leaning over as far as he could. You couldn’t get close to the edge, but it appeared as if Mom and Dad were teetering over the city.

There were lots of things to see, none of which captured much of my interest or stuck in my memory. There were tons of amazing and scary rides, with huge lineups. I remember eating a hotdog that I thought was the most exotic thing that had ever passed thru my lips. What I do remember, mostly, though, was the campground. It was in a farmer’s yard with a big red barn. In this barn was a rope tied to a platform and a huge pile of hay. The kids took turns climbing up to the platform, grabbing the rope, and swinging out over the haystack, to let go and land deep into this soft luxurious pile of hay. To me I had now “arrived”, finally there was some reward for all of the hours I spent in that car, getting here.

I made friends quickly and was soon immersed in all of the campsite wonders provided for kids. I played until dark, when Mom came to find me and shoo me off to bed. Amazing as it is, I remember more about that barn, the swing, and the games we played than the World’s Fair. The next morning, I was up at dawn, with no prompting from Dad and off to see what adventure I could get into. I felt much like Huckleberry Finn, the hero of one of my favorite books of this period in my life. The week went fast, it consisted of being dragged under protest to see the most amazing event of its time, waiting patiently to return to the campground and then playing until I was corralled and made to go to sleep.

Of all of my memories, the rope swing over the haystack was my favorite ride of the 1962 World’s Fair. All to soon, it came to an end, we said goodbye to the friends we had made and started the journey back home. The return journey is a blur in my mind, although I do know that there was no fruit eaten, on the way back thru BC. My Mom, however, bought a few boxes full, but locked them in the trunk. When we got home she spent the remaining summer, canning preserves, jams, jellies and making pies. I remember going to school in the fall and being made to stand before the class and tell them how the 1962 World’s Fair was. I doubt if any of the little buggars even cared!

Once again at end of two relatively short memories, I have arrived a a point where I have said enough for today. Stay tuned, I will be revived and ready for action, before much more time goes by, you lucky devils!