The Sunday Memory Drawer - Sundays at 7PM

Now this here is a memory and it doesn't belong to me.   I think you have to be over 75 to get it.   But, thanks to audio recordings, it can be a memory for all.

Truth be told, this all started very innocently for me a few weeks ago.   You might remember that I once again repeated my heartfelt endorsement for Jack Benny to be our next President.   It got me thinking about that old radio show of his.   Back in New York, there was once a FM station that would play an episode every Saturday night at 7PM.  (Odd because it originally aired on Sundays at 7PM).  But I got hooked nonetheless and listened dutifully before whatever date I had for the evening.

And it was a master class in comedy writing.   I often have said that the "I Love Lucy" writers were my teachers.  But the Benny folks may have been a close second.  It was on those Saturday nights that I learned character and story structure.  Even more amazing since you couldn't see them.  True theater of the mind.

Now, I dabbled in the radio sitcom world with my own show on Fordham's WFUV.  But, even though my writing improved, it never touched the level of Jack and gang.  Plus I didn't exactly have access to AFTRA artists.

Flash the pages forward to 2015.   That intrepid former Fordham sitcom writer is dealing with a fractured kneecap.   And my nightly routine includes a period of icing before retiring to sleep.   I play with my tablet while I do this and engage in America's new number one time waster...the internet and, specifically, You Tube.  Something prompts me to Google Jack Benny.   And it's like a slot machine paying off big in Vegas.

I run across a bunch of websites that have tapes of Jack's radio shows.  Lots and lots of them.   And, suddenly, I was whisked back past even those Saturday nights in NY.  I was thrown back to a time that pre-dated me.   Perhaps to the floor of my grandparents' living room.   Parked in front of that huge contraption of a radio console that wasn't working but still in their possession when I came along.

What must it have been like?  The only sources for entertainment back then were the local movie houses.   And your favorite stars on the radio.  Like Jack Benny every Sunday night at 7PM.

I remember my grandmother telling me a little bit about those days.   Must-See-TV?  There was such a thing as Must-Listen-Radio.   And Jack Benny was part of it.   But it was also Grandma who told me all about Fibber McGee's closet. Charlie McCarthy and Edgar Bergen.   She told me that, when TV came around, she finally discovered that Charlie was a puppet.  And, for some odd reason, my grandmother absolutely adored Kate Smith's weekly radio show.   

But, as I lay with my ice pack, I was super focused on Jack and that family of crazy characters.   In some ways, his radio show was the very first sitcom.   And the original version of "Friends."  Incredibly well-defined characters that were just like the members of your own family.

The always-put-upon and, of course, stingy, Jack.

The reliable, logical friend Mary.

The wisecracking servant Rochester.

The not-so-bright Dennis.

The always-inebriated orchestra leader Phil.

The way-too-round announcer Don.

Add this bunch to a cache of wonderful recurring players.   Frank "Yessss?" Nelson as a train conductor, a store clerk, a doctor or whatever was needed on a weekly basis.   The very German-Jewish Mr, Kitzle selling hot dogs.   Dennis' bossy mother.  Mel Blanc as Polly the Parrot or Jack's car engine.

And, if you pitched these folks in your mind, that would be a good thing.   Because a lot of the audience didn't even know what these people looked like.

You had to use your mind and your imagination.   The theater was totally playing out in your brain.   And it was, oh, so simple to do.

As I regaled in how wonderful these shows were, I gravitated over to Jack's annual Christmas broadcasts.   Going gift shopping in a department store.   Trimming the tree.  The slightest of plots, yet the biggest of laughs.   

Of all the gags I heard over those nights, one stayed with me.

Waiter:  "We don't have hot chocolate."

Jack:   "How can a restaurant not have hot chocolate?"

Waiter:  "If you want, I'll bring you a Hershey bar and a match."

The most basic of jokes.  The most hilarious of laughs.

One more time, I think of my grandparents falling off their chairs as gags like this.  And wish I was there to see it.   And hear it.

Dinner last night:  Beef and vegetable stir fry.