Other jobs I'd like...

Yesterday's post was so well received, I thought I'd share another one along the same vein. Forgive me if this is shorter than usual. I feel terrible and it is Natalie Wood Day on Turner Classic Movies.

Here are a few other jobs I wish I had -- ones I think about during those Walter Mitty moments...

Being Charles Kuralt -- Longtime Pull Up A Chair readers know this one. I have often dreamed of taking what I do for the Shopper-News and doing it from sea to shining sea.

Oh, I couldn't do it with Kuralt's eloquence and mastery of language, but maybe I could do it in print, about a quarter as well as Kuralt. His "On the Road" segments were my favorite part of the old "CBS Evening News." I own a lot of them on DVD.

After all, Kuralt said two things I very much believe:

"It does no harm, just once in awhile, to acknowledge that the whole world isn't in flames, that there are people in this country besides politicians, entertainers and criminals."

And:

"The everyday kindness of the backroads more than makes up for the greed in the headlines."

Being Ed Murrow -- I'm not and never will be anywhere near Murrow's universe, but, gosh, I admire that guy. In addition to all the important work he did with Fred Friendly, he also hosted "Person to Person," interviewing everybody from Bing Crosby to Liberace, all while the wisp of smoke floated up from his fingers.

Being on "What's My Line?" Yet another fact that won't shock all five of my longtime readers. I love this show. It is by far the classiest, coolest, most stylish "game show" in network history.

Half the time I want to be John Charles Daly, news reporter during the week for ABC, erudite host  of "WML?" on Sunday nights for CBS. The other half of the time, I wish I were Bennett Cerf, the hokey wit of the panel, but as his day job, co-founder of Random House at the high-water mark of 20th century American literature. Heck, Arlene Francis and Martin Gabel were his next door neighbors!

"That's three down and seven to go...Mr. Cerf?"

(Look up some of the mystery guest segments from "WML?" on YouTube. It's a "Who's Who" of 20th century stars from all galaxies.) Here is my favorite.

Working for The New Yorker in the William Shawn era -- Every writer's dream. A few years ago, Garrison Keillor played out my fantasy in a fun novel called "Love, Me" I would have missed had it not been for my friend and fellow bibliophile, Mercer University professor Dr. Bridget Trogden. Read it, if you're of a certain persuasion.

Being "The Announcer" -- Johnny Olson, Ed McMahon, Gary Owens ... I know, for example, I lack the talent to be Carson, so let me be Ed. For years, introducing the guests and saying, "Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!" was on my bucket list. I also had this incredible urge to exclaim, "Get ready to match THE STARS!" every time I watched "Match Game." And, yeah, I sometimes say "From beautiful downtown Burbank!" when nobody's listening. Sock it to me!

Have a good week, y'all. See you in the Shopper. Don't miss my column this week on Archie "Hee Haw" Campbell. Some things may surprise you. (This particular link will work for one week.)

'La Dolce Vita'

Tonight I'm basking in the orange glow of Rocky Top, watching Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" and sipping a Sam Adams. Everything goes down better with a Sam Adams, after all.

Watching Fellini is a little like reading Faulkner. You've got to work at it. But, it's worth the work.

Some time ago, I watched Orson Welles' "F For Fake," clearly influenced by Fellini, particularly his later farcical surrealism. That's worth a look, if you've never seen it.

My pal Ross Southerland showed me a series of shorts once, one directed by Fellini. Alas, I don't remember its name. Darn good cinema, though.

Roger Ebert turned me onto this film. Here's his review.

Fellini's film speaks to me, maybe in ways I don't quite understand. A journalist, frustrated he hasn't done more, caught in a place from which he can't escape. Don't get the idea I'm in that space. I'm not. I just don't want to be caught there. Forever. Wasting whatever talent I possess. It's so easy, you see, to see only toward tomorrow's deadline.

We were in New York last weekend. That city quickens my pulse. I feel alive, full of gravitas, living la dolce vita, indeed.

It's a fantasy, the lights and the literati and the lovely lives of Manhattan. I know that. And still I want it.

Oh, how I want to wake up at the Waldorf-Astoria, A-No.1, king of the hill, a best-seller for Bennett Cerf, a welcomed mystery guest on "What's My Line?"

That New York -- that life, indeed -- is forever gone. It left us somewhere between Vietnam and Watergate, the cultivated manners and the black tie and tails replaced by blue jeans and Justin Bieber. God help us.

But it isn't so bad. I can watch Fellini on my Blu-Ray on a Saturday night, sipping on a Sam Adams, heeding its warning, dreaming my dreams.

That, my friends, is something.

La dolce vita.

Classic game show brings early present

Got an early Christmas present the other night.

My friend, the Giant Rat of Knoxville, called to say that the classic game show "What's My Line?" has returned to the GSN lineup after an absence of a year and a half.

Whoo-whoo!

I started watching the series when I had the flu in early 2008 and couldn't sleep. Caught one of the 3 a.m. broadcasts and quickly became hooked. The game was rather simple. What made "What's My Line?" engaging was the show's erudite panel.

For years, the lineup included Hearst Newspapers gossip columnist Dorothy Kilgallen, stage and screen star Arlene Francis and sophisticated book publisher (and Random House co-founder) Bennett Cerf. Guest panelists included former "Tonight Show" host Steve Allen and comedian Fred Allen. The show's host was commentator John Daly, most famous for announcing the 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and FDR's death in 1945 on CBS radio.

The best part of the show was the weekly mystery guest, usually an entertainment personality, who would try to stump the (blindfolded) panel. Mystery guests can include everybody from Ted Williams to Eleanor Roosevelt to Ricky Nelson.

What strikes me about the show is the intelligence of the panel. Were it airing today the celebrities would be a bunch of bumbling idiots (just look at the later syndicated version of "What's My Line"). After watching a few episodes you're also reminded just how much we once valued the English language.

Set your DVR some night at 3 a.m. (Eastern) and catch this true gem from yesteryear. Thanks for bringing this back, GSN!

"What's My Line?", Alan Alda and other lessons I have learned...

Pull up a seat and order whatever you'd like. I'll buy the first round if you'll listen to a little story.

Gotta tell you about one of my heroes, the late, great publisher, Random House co-founder Bennett Cerf. There is no explainable reason that a guy crowdin' 31 should even know Cerf's name. What can I say? I'm a crazy kid.

I've been in love with books -- and words -- since an early age. I think I've told you about that before. A neighbor gave me a "Hardy Boys" mystery when I was about 8 and I've never been the same since.

Anyway, it was through reading about the literary life that I first came across Cerf -- his professional relationship with troubled author Truman Capote, his founding of Random House with Donald Klopfer, his reputation as the epitome of the New York literati during that scene's 1950s golden age.

Then, it was a flu back in the winter, and the inspiration of my friend the Rat, that got me watching the re-runs of the classic game show "What's My Line?", on which Cerf was a regular panelist. Yes, I thought. This is the life I wish I had led -- that of an urbane New Yorker, publishing books, hobnobbing with celebrities, appearing weekly on a popular television series in which I could show off my sophisticated wit.

Alas, I'm merely a somewhat educated feller from Halls who likes to read books. It took me a long time to become comfortable -- and, indeed, happy -- with that fact.

(By the way, I read a fantastic review highlighting a new oral history of the life of another famous literary personality, George Plimpton, that I'm going to try to find during the holidays. It looks great.)

So as the sun goes down on a busy Monday, I'm fighting my usual battle with the inability to unwind, reading Alan Alda's first memoir, "Never Have Your Dog Stuffed." (I just typed "Never Have Your God Stuffed" before hitting the backspace key. Wonder if that is dyslexia or a Freudian slip?)

Alda has long been a favorite. He is witty. He is a multi-talented actor, director and writer. He played another hero, Hawkeye Pierce, on my favorite TV sitcom, "M*A*S*H."

And, believe it or not, Alan Alda once taught me something about women.



Alda made a name for himself in the 1970s for his staunch feminism. Critics complained that the later episodes of "M*A*S*H" became so bogged down in his personal philosophy that it lost its way. Too preachy, they said. Here's why I disagree:

The episode was called "Hey, Look Me Over." I believe it aired during the last season. Hawkeye keeps ignoring Nurse Kellye. She sends him some not so subtle hints of her interest in him, but Hawk keeps his eye on the more nubile, but somewhat vapid, nurses.

Kellye finally lets him have it. Afterward, Hawkeye observes a tender moment that shows Kellye's personality, in which she lovingly cares for a wounded soldier. He realizes what a fool he's been and goes to Kellye's tent to ask for a date.

But, guess what? She's got another man -- and leaves Hawkeye with his foot firmly planted in his mouth.

"Hey, Look Me Over" taught me a valuable lesson. It's a cliche to describe it this way, but the gist is don't judge a book by its cover -- or, perhaps more appropriately, everything that glitters is not gold.

Life experience should have told me this is true. But it took a 30-minute episode of a popular but thoughtful television series to throw my worldview at that time on its ear.

I don't know what Bennett Cerf and Alan Alda have in common, or even why I was thinking about them tonight. But, I think in their own way, they taught me two things I needed to learn.

One is not to spend so much time envying someone else's life that you fail to realize the richness of your own journey. The other is to never fall into the trap of seeing only with your eyes at the exclusion of your brain -- and your heart.

Not bad for two famous people I've never met, huh?

Blast from the past

I'm blaming this on that Sam Sheppard book.

Finally finished it, by the way. Good read. I'm convinced that Dr. Sheppard didn't kill his wife. Little good it does him, nearly 40 years dead, three trials and 54 years after the fact.

Read the book if you're into such things. It's called "The Wrong Man" by James Neff, and is one fine piece of reporting.

And so I've landed back in the '50s these past few days, a place I've liked to visit since watching "Happy Days" as a kid. Yeah, I know that show is an illusion. This is my story. Let me dream.

I regularly watch "What's My Line?", the classic TV game show, which airs late at night on GSN. Currently airing episodes were originally broadcast in 1955. Things were better, things were worse, but one thing is undeniable: we were a more literate country then.

Take Bennett Cerf. There's no way an urbane publisher would appear on a TV game show today. They'd find some vapid blond celebrity instead. I seriously doubt if a well-known columnist like Dorothy Kilgallen would be included today, either.

Late last night, I watched a few episodes of that classic '50s comedy, "Ozzie and Harriet." I lost myself in its innocence, but was also intrigued by a few things.

People have an image of early TV sitcoms as being these neat little fantasies in which the father comes home, puts on a sweater, and solves the family's problems in 30 minutes. But, guess what? Ozzie was portrayed as a likable dolt, the joke almost always on him. He had no obvious source of income, and seemed to just hang around the house a lot. Oh, it was innocent, but David and Rick, the two sons, fought like all real-life siblings fight.

Rick was my favorite part of the show. He was a precocious kid in the early episodes, looking scrubby-clean in his crew cut. As a teenager, he became a real-life teen idol, and many of his songs were woven into the series. ("Stood Up" was the hit on the episodes I screened from Netflix last night.)

Of course, this notion of the 1950s as an suburban idyll overlooks the problems of the era -- segregation, repression, blandness, Communist witch hunts, a whole bunch of other stuff. Heck, the Sheppard trial tells you that. The good doctor was an adulterer, if not a murderer. Nobody was perfect in any era. Humans are basically always human. Just read Shakespeare.

But, it was a good place to land for a few minutes over the weekend. I don't care what you say, I still like that music better...

The simple joys of the season

This time of year is like one big Technicolor motion picture come to life.

No, really. The grass is greener, the sky is a deeper hue of blue, everything is alive and I just get to feeling good despite myself.

Even if the Tigers can’t figure out how to win a darn ball game. But that’s another post for another day.

Yesterday, we took in Sunday brunch at the Downtown Grill. Quite nice, I must say. Dean ordered steak and eggs; Allison enjoyed the French toast. I branched out and tried something called Mountain Eggs -- cooked in a muffin pan. Good stuff.

We walked down Gay Street as the sun began to peek through the clouds. Ducking into the Mast General Store, we spotted Halls guy David Wayland downstairs in the outdoor gear. David works downtown on Sunday afternoons after church. He was the longtime guidance counselor at Halls High and says he is enjoying retirement.

From there, we headed south to the Bijou for the KSO Chamber Classics’ "All Mozart" concert. Maestro Lucas Richman took to the piano for the first selection, "Quartet in G Minor for Piano and Strings, K. 478." After intermission, the chamber orchestra performed Mozart’s final symphony, "No. 41 in C Major, K. 551," also known as the "Jupiter" symphony.

We walked out of the grand old Bijou into the golden sunlight of a spring afternoon. I didn’t want to sit at home on such a pretty day, and the UT baseball team had already concluded their abbreviated game with Florida, so I drove out to West Knox and took in a Chinese dinner with friends.

My former boss and good friend "The Rat" gave me a belated birthday present -- a collection of wartime correspondence between Random House co-founders Bennett Cerf and Donald Klopfer. Sounds nerdy, I know, but Cerf is one of my all-time favorite human beings. He surely led a charmed life.

I drove home in the fading twilight, Sinatra playing gently on the iPod (This time, we almost made the pieces fit, didn’t we, girl?), quite thankful for the simple joys of the season.

Where's 'What's My Line?'

So, it's funny to think about in a way, but I've found myself missing TV at home this week, waiting on the satellite guy to come hook it up.

He can't get to it until Monday. Which I thought would be fine. I have plenty of DVDs to satisfy my tube cravings, plus I figured this would give me time to get caught up on that Teddy Roosevelt book I've been neglecting.

And, sure, it's OK. But I find myself missing little things.

Back when I had the flu, I couldn't sleep one night and got into watching re-runs of the classic 1950s-60s game show "What's My Line?" My friend, who is known as the Giant Rat of Knoxville, about the same time showed me a TiVOed copy of a particular episode featuring former Senate Minority Leader Everett Dirksen.

I quickly became hooked. The game was rather simple. What made "What's My Line?" engaging was the show's erudite panel.

For years, the lineup included noted columnist Dorothy Kilgallen, stage and screen star Arlene Francis and sophisticated book publisher (and Random House co-founder) Bennett Cerf. Guest panelists included former "Tonight Show" host Steve Allen and comedian Fred Allen. The show's host was commentator John Daly, most famous for announcing the 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and FDR's death in 1945 on CBS radio.

The best part of the show was the weekly mystery guest, usually an entertainment personality, who would try to stump the (blindfolded) panel. Since I've been watching the re-runs, I've seen everybody from Gloria Swanson to Phil Rizzuto.

The Rat called last night to report that former Tennessee Sen. Estes Kefauver was the guest on last night's episode. The show airs nightly on GSN at 3 a.m. (Eastern).

And, yeah, I miss sports and the nightly news and XM radio and all the usual suspects. But I guess it says something about me that I miss those grainy black-and-white game show re-runs most.

Maybe I was born too late after all.