thedrifter
03-11-06, 08:35 AM
Borrowed from Mark aka thefontman
Stymie and Alfalfa still can make me smile
March 11,2006
OTIS GARDNER
SPECIAL TO THE DAILY NEWS
This week I began every phone conversation with the disclaimer, "Don't
be afraid, it's me, Otis. I have a cold."
Spring is knocking on the door, and I'm having my normal yearly run of
"frog" voice. I feel fine but sound absolutely terrible.
Of course, every "down" has an "up" and my annual illness is no
exception. I sound like Alfalfa in his "Froggy" character and that brings a
grin to my face.
I'd nearly forgotten about "Our Gang" until the other day when I was
singing the Clarence Henry song, "Ain't Got No Home," in front of the
mirror with my hair standing straight up. For
a moment, I was Alfalfa.
I vaguely remember that he died but had forgotten when and how. I
Googled and was surprised to find out he'd been shot to death way back in
1959. No wonder my memory was
vague.
According to the published reports back then, Alfalfa's business
partner shot him in an argument over a debt. The amount mentioned was only
$50. What a waste.
While reading about Carl Switzer - Alfalfa's real name - I was
surprised so many of the gang were gone, some way too quickly.
For example, one of my favorites, "Buckwheat," died of a heart attack
in 1980 at age 49. He became a successful film lab technician in
Hollywood. Today, such a character
wouldn't be allowed to swim in our politically correct pool.
One of my first girlfriends died. As a little kid, I developed two
infatuations with screen personalities. Of course, everybody loved Annette
on the "Mickey Mouse Club," but my other
was with Darla Hood, leading lady of the "Rascals."
She went on to become a background singer. We never got together, which
probably worked out well. She caught hepatitis after an operation and
died at age 47.
Even sadder, the black-eyed dog in the series, "Pete the Pup," was
poisoned by an unknown assailant. In my eyes, that killer would've been a
great candidate for execution.
Scotty Beckett was one of the cutest kids ever in movies. Reading his
name probably means nothing to you, but if you saw his dimpled picture
with cap askew, you'd remember
him. He was badly beaten and died two days later. He was 38.
Stymie was my favorite after Alfalfa and Buckwheat. His life was cut
short by a stroke at age 56. I learned that the oversized bowler he wore
was actually one of Stan Laurel's hats,
which is why it was too big. It became his trademark.
Although somewhat abbreviated, "Stymie's" life was apparently quite
enjoyable. According to people who should know, his last words were "Fun,
fun, fun…had a lot of fun." Now,
that's real success.
We nicknamed one of our nephews "Wheezer" like the little toddler of
"Our Gang." Happily, life didn't mimic art. He had the shortest run of
all, dying in 1945 at age 19, in a military
airplane accident.
Could he have imagined his name being printed in a 21st century
newspaper column over six decades later? That's certainly a legacy that'll
escape most people.
There were other "kid" series of the vein such as "The Bowery Boys" and
"The Dead End Kids," but New York City was a far cry from where I lived
so I couldn't relate. I liked Leo
Gorcey and Huntz Hall and enjoyed the flicks but never ran into such
folks in real-life.
However, "The Little Rascals" and "Our Gang" hit the middle of my
world. We pulled dogs in wagons, had our own "secret society," which was
anything but secret, and had a
clubhouse, which was a junked moving van.
Our days were filled with tiny trials and tribulations and humor, with
dusty yards and graveled roads and close friends. We ended most days
with dirt caked in "potato rows" under
our necks.
When doing my search, a site came up to order DVDs of those episodes. I
did and plan to watch them after tax season … if I can get my DVD
player working.
A thousand years have passed, but I think I'll remember much of what I
see. I'll probably enjoy them this time around more through the prism
of hindsight, knowing the history of the
folks on screen. It'll also add a measure of poignancy missing at my
original screening.
Watching stuff like this is like leafing through old pictures of people
now gone. Captured in the moment, smiles and laughter say they're
having great times.
Robin Williams had it very right in the "Dead Poets Society." I hope
they understood, as we should now, how good things are second by second
and that eventually the seconds
will run out.
Carpe diem. That's why I grin a lot.
Stymie and Alfalfa still can make me smile
March 11,2006
OTIS GARDNER
SPECIAL TO THE DAILY NEWS
This week I began every phone conversation with the disclaimer, "Don't
be afraid, it's me, Otis. I have a cold."
Spring is knocking on the door, and I'm having my normal yearly run of
"frog" voice. I feel fine but sound absolutely terrible.
Of course, every "down" has an "up" and my annual illness is no
exception. I sound like Alfalfa in his "Froggy" character and that brings a
grin to my face.
I'd nearly forgotten about "Our Gang" until the other day when I was
singing the Clarence Henry song, "Ain't Got No Home," in front of the
mirror with my hair standing straight up. For
a moment, I was Alfalfa.
I vaguely remember that he died but had forgotten when and how. I
Googled and was surprised to find out he'd been shot to death way back in
1959. No wonder my memory was
vague.
According to the published reports back then, Alfalfa's business
partner shot him in an argument over a debt. The amount mentioned was only
$50. What a waste.
While reading about Carl Switzer - Alfalfa's real name - I was
surprised so many of the gang were gone, some way too quickly.
For example, one of my favorites, "Buckwheat," died of a heart attack
in 1980 at age 49. He became a successful film lab technician in
Hollywood. Today, such a character
wouldn't be allowed to swim in our politically correct pool.
One of my first girlfriends died. As a little kid, I developed two
infatuations with screen personalities. Of course, everybody loved Annette
on the "Mickey Mouse Club," but my other
was with Darla Hood, leading lady of the "Rascals."
She went on to become a background singer. We never got together, which
probably worked out well. She caught hepatitis after an operation and
died at age 47.
Even sadder, the black-eyed dog in the series, "Pete the Pup," was
poisoned by an unknown assailant. In my eyes, that killer would've been a
great candidate for execution.
Scotty Beckett was one of the cutest kids ever in movies. Reading his
name probably means nothing to you, but if you saw his dimpled picture
with cap askew, you'd remember
him. He was badly beaten and died two days later. He was 38.
Stymie was my favorite after Alfalfa and Buckwheat. His life was cut
short by a stroke at age 56. I learned that the oversized bowler he wore
was actually one of Stan Laurel's hats,
which is why it was too big. It became his trademark.
Although somewhat abbreviated, "Stymie's" life was apparently quite
enjoyable. According to people who should know, his last words were "Fun,
fun, fun…had a lot of fun." Now,
that's real success.
We nicknamed one of our nephews "Wheezer" like the little toddler of
"Our Gang." Happily, life didn't mimic art. He had the shortest run of
all, dying in 1945 at age 19, in a military
airplane accident.
Could he have imagined his name being printed in a 21st century
newspaper column over six decades later? That's certainly a legacy that'll
escape most people.
There were other "kid" series of the vein such as "The Bowery Boys" and
"The Dead End Kids," but New York City was a far cry from where I lived
so I couldn't relate. I liked Leo
Gorcey and Huntz Hall and enjoyed the flicks but never ran into such
folks in real-life.
However, "The Little Rascals" and "Our Gang" hit the middle of my
world. We pulled dogs in wagons, had our own "secret society," which was
anything but secret, and had a
clubhouse, which was a junked moving van.
Our days were filled with tiny trials and tribulations and humor, with
dusty yards and graveled roads and close friends. We ended most days
with dirt caked in "potato rows" under
our necks.
When doing my search, a site came up to order DVDs of those episodes. I
did and plan to watch them after tax season … if I can get my DVD
player working.
A thousand years have passed, but I think I'll remember much of what I
see. I'll probably enjoy them this time around more through the prism
of hindsight, knowing the history of the
folks on screen. It'll also add a measure of poignancy missing at my
original screening.
Watching stuff like this is like leafing through old pictures of people
now gone. Captured in the moment, smiles and laughter say they're
having great times.
Robin Williams had it very right in the "Dead Poets Society." I hope
they understood, as we should now, how good things are second by second
and that eventually the seconds
will run out.
Carpe diem. That's why I grin a lot.