THE LUNCHBOX

By now, most of you are aware of my addiction to entertainment that took place in a previous century.

My writing as to an admiration for vocalists, instrumental artists, radio shows and authors from that period would seem to confirm this. I long for the Hardy Boys series of books from my youth.

Reading has provided me with many years of pleasure.

My tastes varied at times. I'm talking about my Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer smut novels with the folded page corners. But, I was younger then. What did I know?

There is one constant - my love for Westerns - be they from radio, movies or TV shows.

I suspect my admiration for the latter came from my earlier love affair with the old Saturday matinee kind.

My attendance at the Rivoli or Frederick theaters was usually followed by me returning home and running down the unpaved cinder laden alley leading from Atlantic Ave toward Spinelli's market.

I did this, while smacking myself on my right butt cheek as if I were riding a horse.

But, that was only on those weekends when I was home from college.

The Lone Ranger, Durango Kid, Red Ryder, Gene Autry, Roy Rodgers, Lance LaRue, Rocky Lane, The Cisco Kid, Tim & Jack Holt, Joel McCrae, Buster Crabbe, Hopalong Cassidy, etc were my heroes.

Hoppy was one of my favorites. I watched "Dangerous Venture" several times simply because I couldn't remember if I had seen it before. I miss my autographed lunch box.

A few good Randolph Scott or Rod Cameron flicks were usually enjoyable as well. The later rumors as to Randy's sexual proclivity did little to dampen my enthusiasm for the guy with the fast draw, easy smile, and square jaw with the deep cleft.

Today it's re-released episodes of The Rifleman, Have Gun Will Travel, Big Valley, Marshall Dillon, Gunsmoke, and my favorite - The Virginian- that keep me going.

I enjoy them today even more than I did my old W.C. Fields movie collections including the dialogue excerpts available on 33 1/3 albums.

I outgrew my days of admiration for William Claude, much to the relief of friends and family who had grown weary of my amateur attempts to adopt his vocal style - usually about every other sentence.

I never outgrew my taste for Westerns.

Did I tell you I miss my Hopalong Cassidy lunchbox? Did I also tell you I cried recently when I found out how much one in good shape would bring on the market today?

Why a love for Westerns? I was often criticized by my then girlfriend's father who insisted on referring to them as "Hors----t & Bullets" when he discovered his daughter and me avidly watching them in the parlor.

The answer is simple. Like soap operas, it's a break from some of the heavier things in our lives that includes a media who is so anxious to keep us well informed.

In my Westerns - unlike soap operas - the good guy almost always wins -despite moral challenges- and that's the real kicker. They truly are more than the "H & B" previously alluded to.

They are morality plays. Sometimes it's Matt Dillon from Dodge City combining simple psychological hooks and an amazing quick draw skill w/o any demonstration of a in-depth legal knowledge.

On the Virginian it's Judge Garth in Medicine Bow employing both.

Just about every episode emphasizes a simple morality lesson - one that our kids and grandkids could probably easily grasp.

Watching a morality play - with a little shooting - and a lot of good lessons being taught - might be a good respite for a young guy or gal with sore fingers and thumbs from pushing puttons.

Oops, gotta run and tell Trampas that the blond dancehall gal is no good for him.

"Trampas, it'll never work! Find a good schoolmarm"

I really miss my lunchbox.