Farewell, Robert Vaughn

            Actor and writer Robert Vaughn, forever in my heart The Man from U.N.C.L.E., died due to leukemia on November 11, 2016.

            He was best known as an actor, of course.  He played Lee in 1960’s The Magnificent Seven.  (The film was remade in 2016, to tepid reviews.)

            Napoleon Solo, his U.N.C.L.E. character, was originally intended as a TV version of James Bond.  Thank heaven that Norman Felton brought Sam Rolfe onboard to develop the concept into the witty creature that the property became.

            Vaughn was hired as the lead under its original title, Solo.  When costar David McCallum rose in fan approbation to become a virtual co-lead -- as happened later with Spock in Star Trek -- Vaughn graciously shared the spotlight.

            As narrated in Cynthia Walker’s boffo book, Work/Text: Investigating the Man from U.N.C.L.E., the NBC series was the first modern TV series to attract a cult fan following.

            During the show’s run (1964-1968), I went from eight to twelve years old.  And my tenth birthday fell on U.N.C.L.E.’s broadcast night, so I had an U.N.C.L.E. birthday party!  At other times, when I played “Man from U.N.C.L.E.” with my best friend, he played Illya; I played Solo.  (Tommy was blond, and I was a brunet, so this made perfect sense.)

            Vaughn was a star or guest on many other TV projects such as Murder, She Wrote, Columbo, and Season Five of The A-Team (one episode, “The Say U.N.CL.E. Affair,” had McCallum as guest star in a wacky episode typical of the silliest of 1980s TV).  From 1972-1974 he was star of the Brit TV The Protectors series.  You can read his over 200 acting credits, from Teenage Caveman to Transylvania Twist, at IMDB.

            Robert Vaughn wasn’t merely an actor.  He cared passionately about many topics, and was an activist for his (defined as liberal) beliefs.  Kudos to him for being actively involved in life beyond acting!

            Vaughn’s master thesis (it was in Communication), about Hollywood’s blacklist era, was titled Only Victims: A Study of Show Business Blacklisting, and was released in book form (Amazon listing).

            His autobiography, A Fortunate Life, was released in 2009 (Amazon link).

            In the 1990s a friend of mine attended a convention at which Vaughn guested, and was kind enough to secure an autographed photo for me.  Thanks, Tamara!

            I salute you, Mr Vaughn, for your acting skills, your involvement in life, and your (unsought)  role as one of our heroes in the fight against evil.

 

2016 Blog-o-Ween art Sources

Clockwise from top right:

·        Monsters and Wolf-Man Jimmy - Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #44, April 1960 - Curt Swan

·        Puppet Flash -- The Flash #133, December, 1962 (cover) - Carmine Infantino

·        Devil Superman -- Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #68, April 1963 (interior page) - Curt Swan

 ·     Lois Lane, Witch! -- Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane #1, March, 1958 (interior page) -- art by Kurt Schaffenberger

·        Evil Wizard Superman -- Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #81, December, 1964 (cover)  - Curt Swan

Gorilla - Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #44, April 1960 - Curt Swan


I'll see you on Thursday, December 1st!
 

Plastic Skeleton Hands and Fun Nights

          From 1962-1968 I was in grade school in a small Oklahoma town that was kept solvent by Phillips 66, Reda Pump, and Cities Service.

          Will Rogers Elementary School served Grades 1-6 in those days.  Once a year came Fun Night!

          It was only much later that I figured out that Fun Night was probably a PTA fundraiser.  For us kids, it was simply Fun Night!

          At Fun Night, all sorts of activities went on.  There was a Cake Walk (boring!), a gypsy Fortune Teller, variations on Cake Walks (boring-er!!), carnival-like games of skill, and a fishing game.  This involved dangling a string on a bamboo pole until it hung past a barrier.  Crouched down, unseen by us kids, a parent would attach a trinket to the line.

          As you can imagine, the “prizes” we won were the same sorts of things you could get from a penny-candy dispenser.  Wax moustaches, little rubber balls, marbles, the dreaded pencil or pink eraser -- these were some of the “prizes” won for the price of the tickets our parents bought at the ticket booth.

          But for me …. The best prizes were the scary or monster ones!  And one of my treasures from the 1960s ….

           Theoretically, you put these in your pocket.  Your unsuspecting patsy (AKA everybody else) would think a skeleton was crawling from your pocket.

          I didn’t learn until much later that these things were often sold with a plastic skull attached.

          Here are a couple of nostalgic posts from Universal Monster Army and Secret Fun Blog.

          By the 1970s, such a plain little scare couldn’t make it on its own; it was bundled as a come-along when you bought other stuff!  The ad above was from the September, 1970 Boys Life.

           Here’s a color ad.

          Don’t feel bad, Skeleton Hands!  You’re worth everything to my memory!

 PS they looked like this when I wore them to church on Sunday, October 30th.  Everybody admired them.
 

The Last Topps Monster Cards for This Year

 This is a great line.

 I believe the woman's face is an airbrushed replacement for the original.

 The above image was a riff on the famous Crest toothpaste ads.

See you Monday for a final reminiscence!

More Munsterizing

This week's Munster coloring-book pages:

And this week's cleaned-up coloring page:

See you on Friday with some more Topps Monster Cards!

Revenants from Halloween 1984

For Halloween 1984, I dressed up as our favorite crazy mixed-up kid.

 

With green makeup, an old suit, and wooden empty thread spools, I staggered through the neighborhood.

As is proven by the second photo, the 18-month-old in the house was not particularly frightened.

Also in 1984, I came up with this scribbling (yes, it's a sonnet):

Nightmare

 by Mark Alfred

Friday the 13^th, April, 1984

Enveloping, it chafes and smothers you;

You have no warning; then it is too late

To keep from seeing what no others do.

This is your private torment; yours the gate

That leads into the hidden, dim recess

Of every misbegotten lust and dream.

For nothing here forbids: no foul excess

Can be denied in this dark-litten gleam.

Your self is yourself’s pris’ner, and no cell

Could grip with clammy clutch to such intent.

Awakened, you must sleep, and who could tell

What horrors lurked in sleep, or what they meant?

It seems the grandest terrors still remain;

Your pleasant, daylight heart must bear the stain.


See you on Wednesday, fellow frighteners!