Remembering Charlie

February 13, 2010. I slid down into the comfy seat as I had done so many times before. My overnight bag rested on the luggage rack above me. Two precious contents—a small CVS bag filled with Valentine’s Day chocolates and a simply framed 8x10 photograph—were wrapped carefully in plastic bubble wrap to protect them for the nearly three-hour ride. My oversized purse, containing all the basic travel necessities of life—photo ID, some cash, iPod, Kindle, and Blackberry—was on the floor, stuffed between my left leg and the metal wall of the train. As Amtrak’s Northeast Regional Express pulled out of Bridgeport, Connecticut, at 6:12 p.m. on the dot, I already had my earbuds in, the music attempting to lull me into a temporary refuge from the events of not only the past week, but of the past few years. 

As the train chugged and rocked its way south through the Connecticut countryside toward Philadelphia, I gazed out the window at the blackness of night, unable to see anything but my reflection and tiny specks of light from street lamps and headlights. I draped my long, black, wool coat over me like a blanket, warding off the wintry chill that managed to force itself inside the heated compartment. How different from all of my other trips to Connecticut. How very different, indeed.

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Carol Ford with Charlie Zito
August 14, 2008

During the course of the last decade, I have met some wonderful people as the direct result of my involvement in researching Bob Crane's life and now writing his biography. I could never have predicted how many truly beautiful people I would meet and get to know—people who had known Bob either from school or radio or television or theatre or as a family member or even just in passing. Several have touched my heart and have become like family to me, and not the least of which was Bob's best friend from school, Charlie Zito. Born on February 16, 1928, Charlie had been in the same graduating class as Bob at Stamford High School. He and Bob had been "like brothers," and of their friendship. Charlie once told me: "Bob—what a guy. We were close. Really close friends. You know, he never gossiped or talked bad about anybody. Not if he thought it would hurt that person. He was a good guy. We would confide a lot in each other. I knew I could talk to him because I knew it wouldn't go any further. He would keep a confidence."

I first talked with Charlie in July 2008, and after careful consideration, he agreed to be interviewed for Bob's biography. Shortly after Charlie's interview, on August 14, 2008, I ventured to Stamford, Connecticut, to meet him. On that day, Charlie took me all around town, showing me his Stamford, as he had remembered it growing up in the 1930s and 1940s—during his and Bob's teenage years. On the tour were distinct landmarks—where they, as kids, used to play baseball and football in Belltown Park; the houses they each grew up in; where they went to school; where they had marched in parades; where they used to hang out at the drugstore for a soda fountain; where they went to church and later were married; where they held their wedding receptions, and later, class reunions. Charlie's white 1980s Ford LTD with the bent antennae became a time machine—a present-day Tardis or DeLorean—that traveled back to a time long ago, to when Charlie and Bob were young and had their whole lives ahead of them.

Charlie in Belltown Park, Stamford, CT.
April 2009

I will never forget that first meeting. It had been a hot summer day, and I had taken the early morning train from Philadelphia's 30th Street Station up to Stamford. After arriving in town, I took a cab over to Charlie's house, and by the time I arrived, I looked like I had just run the marathon because of the blistering heat. Yet, Charlie did not seem to notice. Instead, he focused on my being so very tall, and he joked about our very opposite heights!

"You made it!" he said as I entered his home.

"I did. The train was right on time, my cabbie knew where he was going, and now I'm here. How are you?"

"Not nearly as tall as you!" Charlie gazed up at me in awe, as though looking up at the Washington Monument. "How tall are you?"

"Six-feet even. But I think I'm shrinking."

"I used to be five-ten. Do you believe it? I'll show you my driver's license if you don't."

Charlie and I became fast friends right from the start. After that first day of touring Stamford and seeing it like I had never seen it before, a lasting friendship was born. It was as if we had known each other our entire lives. We talked on the phone several times a week for hours on end. He would tell me of his Sicilian heritage and his wife's Canadian-French heritage, of his school days, of growing up during the Great Depression and the effect World War II had on him personally and on his generation as a whole, of his kids from the time they were born until the present day and how incredibly proud he was of all of them. Confidences were shared. Advice was offered. Serious discussions about life-changing events merged with light chatter about everyday things. There was never a lull in the conversation; there was always something to say.

Captain Zito after docking his boat, "The Coyote."
September 2008

When I ventured to Connecticut, I would always spend a full day with Charlie, whether it was just driving around town in his "time machine," cruising up and down Long Island Sound on his boat, having lunch at the diner, walking around Home Goods, shopping at United House Wrecking, Co.—one of the best antique stores I've ever been in—and laughing at "the ugly room," enjoying coffee and Linzer tarts at DiMare Pastry Shop (which makes Sicilian, not Italian patries, didn't you know); and most importantly, having ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery—even on the coldest, rainiest day in November.

On February 4, 2010, Charlie and I talked on the phone until about 11:00 that night. We made plans for my visit later in the month. One of the very last things he said to me on that call was, "Write the book," meaning Bob's biography. It meant the world to him to know his good friend was finally going to have his true story told. 

The next day, on February 5, 2010, I received an unexpected call from Charlie's daughter while I was at work. Charlie had suffered a heart attack and died suddenly that morning. I was stunned. Just like that, Charlie was gone. And when he left this world, he took a piece of me with him.

I attended Charlie's funeral, which was held on February 13, 2010, and afterward, his family gave me a little CVS bag containing a chocolate candy heart, which Charlie had bought in anticipation of my next visit, and it broke my own heart. They also gave me the framed photo of Charlie that had been placed in the sanctuary during the service. These precious treasures came home with me that night, resting comfortably in my travel bag on board the train.

Cruising on Long Island Sound with Charlie.
June 2009.

I still miss Charlie, and I will always miss Charlie. I knew him for eighteen months—such a short period of time in the grand scheme of things—and yet, it was a lifetime. Most people do not understand the friendship Charlie and I had. Charlie was 81 years of age when he passed away and would be 85 this year. I am half his age, coming up on my 44th birthday. Charlie used to say to me, "I don't know how to put into words what our friendship is. I don't think there is a word in the English language for it." He was right, and while there may not be a specific word or phrase for our unique friendship, there is a movie that comes pretty close—Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. It is the best way I think I can explain it.

This blog and all of the "Vote For Bob Crane" Internet presence exist as an awareness vehicle so people can learn about Bob Crane and his work. It is an extension of what his full biography will be, and it is a place where people can hear his radio work and see him in various productions other than Hogan's Heroes. However, without people like Charlie Zito, many stories about Bob's life would have been lost forever. Charlie's testimonies are some of the most poignant and heart-warming I have ever heard, not only about Bob, but about people and life in general.

Today, I want the world to know Charlie. He was much more than "Bob Crane's best friend from school," as he will be described in Bob's biography. Charlie was many wonderful things—a devoted husband, father, brother, grandfather, and uncle; a hard worker and skilled dental technician who owned his own business; a fantastic cook; a knowledgable and entertaining boat captain; a tremendous pianist and musician; a gifted conversationalist; a humble man full of laughter, life, and love; and a very dear friend. He is greatly missed and remembered fondly by many.

Charlie used to tell me that he hated to see a person cry—that if a person cried in his presence, he just could not bear it. Somehow, even knowing that, it does not change the number of tears I have shed over his loss. And somehow, I also know that he would be scowling at each and every one of those tears, and that thought does, indeed, make me smile.

Remembering Charlie. 

Charlie Zito was truly one of the best, and it has been my absolute honor and privilege to have known him and called him one of "my favorite people in the whole universe."

Bob Crane and Mel Blanc - Two Men, Each of a Thousand Voices

When I was a kid growing up during the 1970s through the mid-1980s, I - along with most every other kid in America - relished in Saturday morning cartoons. At the time, I was an aspiring artist, drawing everything around me, and even making up my own comic books, complete with their own stories. I even attempted to make my own live-action cartoons by drawing in the corners of notebooks and flipping the pages to make my creations move. I had toyed with going to art school, but instead, obtained my English/Liberal Arts degree and then went on to pursue a career in writing and publishing.

Far and away, my favorite Saturday morning cartoons were Looney Tunes, produced by Warner Brothers, with the voice talents of the late, legendary Mel Blanc. Bugs Bunny was my favorite, but not far behind were the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam, Foghorn Leghorn, Porky Pig, Sylvester and Tweety, Speedy Gonzales, Pepe Le Pew, the Tasmanian Devil, and Melvin the Martian.

Mel Blanc, of course, was the genius voice talent behind Looney Tunes as well as many other cartoon characters, such as Mr. Spacely in The Jetsons and Dino the Dinosaur and Barney Rubble in The Flintstones. At one time, he was providing 90% of the voices for cartoons produced by Warner Brothers, and thus, he became known as the "Man of a Thousand Voices." He had also worked as a regular on The Jack Benny Program, and further, had his own radio program, The Mel Blanc Show, which ran from September 3, 1946, through June 24, 1947. Mel Blanc died at the age of 81 on July 10, 1989. His epitaph on his headstone is simple: "That's All Folks," and beneath his name is inscribed, "Man of 1000 Voices."

During his tenure at KNX, Bob Crane provided countless voices and sound effects as part of his radio program - a technique and skill he had perfected since his childhood and his earliest radio days at WLEA in Hornell, New York, in 1950. Because of his extraordinary skill at being able to change his voice and impersonate just about anyone and anything, Bob had been dubbed radio's "Man of a Thousand Voices."

The other day, I was going through a collection of audio tape recordings given to me by Bob Crane's son, Robert Scott Crane. Most of the recordings are Bob's airchecks from KMPC in Los Angeles and KAYO in Seattle. One recording contains a series of voice impersonations, sound effects, and interview clips that Bob had simply labeled, "Bob's Best." And on this tape is a short clip of an interview Bob had done with Mel Blanc, which most likely aired during Bob's KNX show. The clip with Mel Blanc is not long, barely a minute at most, and leads into Frank Sinatra's "When Somebody Loves You" (lyrics by Sammy Cahn). But the real treasure here is not the interview itself, but the 10-seconds where Mel Blanc introduces Bob Crane's show in the voice of Porky Pig.

This 10-second clip of Porky Pig stuttering and stammering his way through the introduction to The Bob Crane Show and then giving up, calling it the Sammy Cahn Show, while short, is one of my favorite discoveries in any of Bob's airchecks. Two men, each with a thousand voices and geniuses in their own right, sharing air time together. 

Simply fantastic.

Merry Christmas 2012!

From all of us to all of you,

best wishes for a very Merry Christmas!

Sandy Hook Elementary School, Newtown, CT - We Are Heartbroken

There are no words we can use to adequately express our grief and heartbreak at the horrific events of December 14, 2012. 

We wrap our arms and our hearts around Newtown and hold it close, keeping this community in our thoughts and prayers. 

Click here for image source.

Happy Hanukkah 2012!

Happy Hanukkah and warmest holiday wishes with the start of the Festival of Lights! 

While Bob Crane was Irish Catholic, many of the cast members of Hogan's Heroes were/are Jewish, including Werner Klemperer, John Banner, Robert Clary (who spent three years in a concentration camp as a teenager), Leon Askin, and Howard Caine. None of the actors were offended by the series because they appreciated it as a well-written parody and a way of fighting back with humor.

John Banner, Robert Clary, and Bob Crane share a scene
in Hogan's Heroes.

From its inception, Hogan's Heroes was drenched in controversy, mostly because those who did not watch the series were confused about its premise. Even today, people believe that the series takes place in a concentration camp, and thus, is inappropriate, inexcusable, and politically incorrect. After all, how on earth can that be funny?

The truth is, you can't make fun of the Holocaust and concentration camps. But Hogan's Heroes does nothing of the sort. It is a situation comedy set in a prisoner of war camp, and in ways that echo Mel Brooks' The Producers and Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator, the writers, directors, producers, and actors did make fun of the Germans - and more specifically, the Nazis - but never the war itself or its serious implications. And in some ways, it was quite therapeutic to many of its stars, all of whom were affected by World War II and the Nazis in some way in their personal lives.

"I think we make great fools of the Germans," Robert Clary said in a 1966 interview. "We are laughing at them."

Bob Crane concurred in a July 20, 1968, interview: "I've had people ask me, 'How can you make fun of a concentration camp? Think of all the Jews who were killed.' Well, ours isn't a concentration camp; it's a camp filled with soldiers who are prisoners. And their situations can be funny."

"Besides," Clary stressed, "the difference between a prisoner of war camp and a concentration camp is the difference between night and day."

Further, Hogan's Heroes can easily be considered the older brother of M*A*S*H. Many of the writers, directors, and actors who worked on Hogan's Heroes went on to work on M*A*S*H. In similar ways, Hogan's Heroes and M*A*S*H started out campy and light. As both matured over the seasons, the storylines became more serious and character development grew deeper. Hogan's Heroes ran for six seasons and was criticized as lasting longer than World War II itself. Yet, by season six, the episodes, while still very funny, had taken on more serious undertones than what as originally produced in season one. M*A*S*H ran for a mammoth eleven seasons, from 1972 to 1983, one of the longest running sitcoms in history. By the time the series wrapped, the storylines were far from funny, and the series had morphed from a half-hour sitcom into a half-hour drama with moments of dry humor.

Next time you watch either Hogan's Heroes or M*A*S*H, take note of the writing styles and character development across the seasons. You are sure to see some overlap!

Happy Thanksgiving!

As we celebrate this day with our families and friends, we also take time to reflect on the people and things for which we are most thankful. And there are a lot.

We hope that this Thanksgiving Day finds you filled to the brim, not just with turkey and stuffing, but with happiness, fun, warm memories, and a peacefulness that remains with you throughout the holiday season and into the new year.

Best wishes for a safe and happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving 1971: Bob Crane and Beverly Garland (left)
hosted the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Philadelphia, while
Bob Barker and Gail Fisher covered the parade in New York City.

In 1972, AT&T produced a series of television music shows, Top of the Month. The full story by Jai Sharbutt of the Associated Press, originally published on October 12, 1972, is presented here, below the accompanying photograph. According to Sharbutt, Bob Crane's performance was one of the few bright spots in this noble but failed attempt by AT&T.

Bob Crane and Tony Randall celebrate Thanksgiving the old-fashioned
way - as Pilgrims and Indians - in AT&T's 1972 variety series, Top of the Month.

AT&T Offers 9 Special TV Music Shows as New Series

Top of the Month is a new television series of nine half-hour musical comedy shows. The first three have a lot of snappy patter, singing, dancing, and "sweetened" laugh tracks.

Producers sweeten a laugh track by dubbing in recorded chuckles when the audience response isn't exactly buffo. And Top of the Month may need that kind of sugar. It sure doesn't have the spice yet. Not even with a fine regular cast headed by Tony Randall.

A pity, too, because the shows, bankrolled by the Long Distance Division of American Telephone and Telegraph Co., are a valiant effort to brighten local television programming.

TWO CONDITIONS

AT&T's aim was to offer the once-a-month minispecials to local stations for use in the 30 minutes of prime evening time the Federal Communications Commission has taken from the networks and returned to local broadcasters.

Acting in association with the Bell System's 23 regional companies, AT&T' offered the shows free to local stations on two conditions:

-That the stations would show them during prime viewing time at night, with the choice of time and date left to the stations.

-That only four paid commercials-two from AT&T, two from the local Bell system-would be permitted while the show was on.

MONTHLY THEMES

The theme of each show is a given month - October through June - and events we associate with that month. The theory was that history would be presented with song, dance, and comedy skits.

In practice, the presentation burped, fell down, and died in the opening show, which checked out October with the help of Bonanza's Lorne Greene. The show appears on an estimated 110 stations this month. 

Too bad. The writing was feeble, the comedy skits weak, and the singing of costar E.J. Peaker flat. She's an excellent performer, and the vocal wasn't her fault. The problem was that it was her third "Month" segment in as many days. She was lucky she could talk.

An AT&T spokesman said the shows, about October, November, and December, all were taped from a busy Friday through a weary Sunday. October was the last in the series, and Miss Peaker was pooped.

NOVEMBER BETTER

The spokesman for the show said the tight schedule was tailored to accommodate the free hours of the guest starts. Greene, for example, couldn't do his bit until Sunday, the spokesman said.

Resting on the seventh day would have been the wiser course.

The November show was much better, only because of the comic timing of guest star Bob Crane in a funny Thanksgiving skit about Indians, Pilgrims, Plymouth Rock, and all that.

December's offering was memorable in that one rarely sees John Forsythe trapped in a spangled heliotrope jacket, leading a 1957 rock 'n roll group in an assault on "Earth Angel."

For the past five springs, AT&T has presented such memorable programs as Tomorrow, with George C. Scott, and The Record-Makers, with Flip Wilson.

The new shows are a radical innovative departure from the one-hour, once-a-years concerpt. But after the first three shows, all we can do is pray for a swift return of them good old days.

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Sharbutt, J. (1972, October 12). AT&T offers 9 special TV music shows as new series.

Over the Wall: 'Hogan's Heroes' in the Cold War - 'The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz'

In early 1967, producers at Samuel Goldwyn Studios (also known as United Artists Studio) hatched an idea: "Let's put the stars of Hogan's Heroes in a film together. It'll do great at the box office." It seemed feasible. After the terrific success of Hogan's Heroes, due in part to the talented actors and the natural chemistry that existed between them, a movie with the leading Hogan's Heroes cast and with Bob Crane in the starring role would be a draw for audiences.

John Banner, Elke Sommer, and Bob Crane in
a scene from The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz.

The script they had chosen was one that would undoubtedly fit the Hogan's Heroes actors' television personas well. Set in what was then present-day Europe and during one of the most heated eras of the Cold War, Bob Crane's character (Bill Mason, an American Black Market scam artist smuggling goods in and out of East Germany) would once again be pitted against the Germans - only this time, Communist East Germans instead of Nazis. Into their usual bumbling German slots landed Werner Klemperer (who is credited simply as Klaus), John Banner (as Weber), and Leon Askin (as Oscar).

Elke Sommer, the beautiful German actress, was cast opposite Bob Crane in the female lead as Paula Schultz. An East German Olympian athlete, Paula Schultz wishes to defect to the West. She enlists the help of Bill Mason, and the pair spend the movie dodging deception, falling in love, and on the run as they try to make their way over the Berlin Wall into West Berlin. Paula eventually makes the leap, literally, with her unparalleled pole vaulting capabilities. Rounding out the cast were Joey Forman and Maureen Arthur as Herbert and Barbara Sweeney, a married couple who act as the voice of reason to Herbert's friend Bill Mason, who Barbara neither likes nor trusts. 

In a January 13, 1968, article published shortly after the film's release, Werner Klemperer said, "If there are anti-heroes, there have to be anti-villains. According to my last two roles, who's a sweeter villain than I?...It's such a zany farce that our director, George Marshall, allowed me to play the role of an East German bureaucrat as broad as I liked. The character fancies himself to be a great lover - a veritable devil with the women. They gave me all the props - a silken dressing gown, long cigarette holder, and even a mirrored ceiling in my bachelor quarters. I go on the make for Elke Sommer and don't even consider it a rebuff when she pole vaults over the Berlin Wall to avoid me."

Bob Crane on the set of
The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz.

At the time he received the offer to star in the film, Bob Crane had been itching for the chance to make a different kind of jump - from the small television screen to the big theater screen. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of one of his screen idols, Jack Lemmon, and he was taking his acting very seriously. He had already completed a course presented by Stella Adler (read the article by Bob's son, Scott Crane) and turned down a mecca of offers, including the job that had gone to Johnny Carson as host of The Tonight Show. Bob wanted to learn the components of acting, and he also wanted success. The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz provided a rich and unique opportunity to star in a feature film and work along side fellow actors who he liked and respected in the field.

However, the film, which was released in the United States on January 3, 1968, was not the goldmine its producers and cast had hoped it would be. Instead, it was the first taste of typecasting the stars of Hogan's Heroes experienced, an unfortunate phenomenon that would plague Bob Crane for the rest of his life. Movie goers lined up to see Hogan, Klink, and Schultz, not this Bill Mason fellow, and his East German pursuers Klaus and Weber. Later on, some of the Hogan's Heroes cast who appeared in The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz would groan and grumble when anyone mentioned the film. Werner Klemperer flatly implored people, "Don't see it."

Yet, Bob Crane was optimistic, and while later on in his career he turned down film offers of a similar nature to avoid becoming a "Cold War comedian" (as he put it), Bob viewed his part in The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz as a credible acting opportunity and another chance to learn. In a February 1, 1968, article, Bob stated, "Being quite honest, I don't think it [The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz] will defeat TV snobbery. It will help as far as credit goes. I got my feet wet in the movie business, and I'm itching for more."

"The Love Theme from The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz"
with Bob Crane on drums.

Today, regardless of the film's silly premise, The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz has become a cult classic. Seeing our beloved Hogan's Heroes stars acting together in a different universe outside of World War II Germany and Stalag 13 is a rare treat, even if film critics and audiences in 1968 believed otherwise. It is not for sale on DVD through any distributor, but like any hidden treasure, copies can be found if one looks hard enough. By all means, find it and (don't listen to Werner Klemperer!) - watch it!

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References

Alpert, D. (1968, February 1). Movie snobs hurt television actors.
Associated Press. (1968, January 13). Klemperer sees himself as a sweet kind of villain.