Update 2-13-07

Hi,

First, another word about Erick Wohlgemuth:

From Peter Panzarino ‘69, about Erick Wohlgemuth:  I speak to Erick’s brother Greg ‘67 several times a week, so I was one of the first ones to know of the tragic news.
        Growing up as a kid who lived down he street, I remember watching the older Erick, polish his ’32 Ford 3-window Coup over and over, or his dragon tail motorcycle, or his marine boots.  I’ve never seen a perfectionist like him.  Both he and Greg proudly served our country, as marines in Viet Nam.
           At the gravesite memorial service, I met Erick’s five beautiful children and realized that I missed the life of a very interesting man.  Those who knew him best in these years said that he was a very kind man.

         Eric Hilton wrote that the Wohlgemuths were an extremely talented family.  Manny, the father, was a legend auto mechanic.  From his shop on Horton Avenue, he invented a carburetor that could get 50 miles to the gallon.  The carburetor was bought by GM and never put on the market.  Erick invented a seamless plastic bottle, which will revolutionize the plastic bottle industry.  No more liquid leakage.  And Greg’s songs can be heard at every Charlie Daniel’s Band Concert.

    Then, from Jerry Bittman:  I would like to wish Les Glasser a happy 60th birthday (February 11th ).  Does anybody remember that before he moved to Merrick, Les was a captain on the South J.V. football team?
   
    From Barbara Blitfield Pech:  I'm sure by the time this posts we subtropical residents will have long forgotten our one week of intermittent winter days and nights.  And I am sure that Eric Hilton was just teasing, as he is a resident and does get local and state weather advisories.  Balmy Miami was a nippy 47 Monday morning, but we don't advertise it because the city's already overcrowded with northern refugees seeking relief and a few too many of my family members who are seeking winters repast at the Pech Palace.  Note:  the invitation is still and always open to class members.  Come on down, y'all.
   
    From Amy Miller:  Bob Keeshan was Clarabell.  He went on to have his own show.  I believe he died within the past year.  I thought you had an announcement of this.  And who remembers Mr. I-magination (the man with the magic reputation)?  Paul Tripp.
        And it's minus 6, with the wind chill, this morning here in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
   
    From Peggy Cooper Schwartz:  To Allen Moss and Eric Hilton:  The crossbreed duck-dachshund was on "The Howdy Doody Show," and was called The Flubbadub.  I think that's what started my lifelong love of dachshunds  (I've had two).  But even better than dachshunds:  my husband Les and I became  grandparents for the first time on January 27th, which is also Les's birthday.  Benjamin Aiden was born to our daughter Suzanne and her husband, Matthew, in San Francisco.  We feel especially blessed, as Les had a bone marrow transplant in November 2006 and is doing very well.
   
    From Emily Kleinman Schreiber:  The numerous references to my first art teacher sent me to my bookcase where John Gnagy's drawing book sits along with the others I've collected over the years.  In my Brooklyn school (P.S. 253 -- Brighton Beach), there was no art teacher.  Whenever John Gnagy was on our RCA Victor TV set (bought in '48), I'd sit on the living room floor and draw with him.  He made my Mom aware of my interest in art -- which she nurtured by giving me creative opportunities.  My mom bought his kit and I think I may still have some of the sketches from back then.  Thanks for the memory jolt.
         Also, I just Googled John Gnagy and learned the following:  John Gnagy, Painter Who Gave Drawing Lessons on Television  Published: March 10, 1981
         "John Gnagy, a painter who gave drawing lessons on NBC-TV and CBS-TV from the late 1940s to the mid-1950s, died Saturday at his home in Idyllwild, California.  He was 74 years old.
         Mr. Gnagy, who was self-taught, was an advertising art director in New York before offering weekly art courses on television in 1946.  His NBC-TV program was called ''You Are An Artist.''  He switched to CBS-TV in 1950.
         When he left television, Mr. Gnagy moved to California.  In recent years. he had been on a national lecture circuit as a drawing instructor.
         He is survived by his wife, the former Mary Jo Hinton; a daughter, Polly Seymour of Orlando, Florida; a son Stephen of Lawrence, Kansas, three sisters, seven grandchildren, and a great-grandchild.
   
    [Rich -- Emily also Googled Bob Keeshan, and then Joanne Polner Googled both Keeshan and Gnagy.  But both of those reports are a little long for this week.
        Also, note:  There's an Alumni Association meeting at South this Thursday, February 15, probably in the library around 7:15.
        And while I'm at it:  Happy Valentine's Day.]
   
    From Moss in Maine here again folks.  Congrats to Barbara and Eric and nice try Marc!  The sketchpad was indeed from "John Nagy-Learn to Draw," the duck/daschund hybrid was "Flub-a-Dub" from Howdy Doody and the rubber frog was from "Andy's Gang."  The frog appeared in a puff of smoke on top of a grandfather clock when Andy uttered those immortal words, "Plunk your magic twanger Froggy!"  Then, whoosh, up appeared a cheap, trashy looking rubber frog, who uttered the famous greeting to many of us baby boomers.."Hiya kids..hiya..hiya..hiya."  In response to which, the entire audience of little tikes in the studio went bullshit, jumping up and down, screaming, clapping and, quite possibly, pissing in their pants!  There is a fabulous kinescope on one of the nostalgia television websites which shows that exact moment when Andy calls forth "Froggy the Gremlin."  It is a bit blurry but it is, for sure, the real thing.  I suspect most of those shows were live and ended up, like the early Soupy Sales shows, in the taped-over reels of oblivion.  As of the color pink, it was for the famous "Pinky Lee Show," complete with our madcap emcee in a checkered sport coat and bow tie (as I remember) not unlike the latter day Pee Wee Herman, who certainly owes many of his touches to both Pinky Lee and Soupy Sales.  Eric, thanks for calling forth  the incredible visual memories associated with Bohacks.  My folks shopped in there regularly, and I usually tagged along.  And while we are at it:  do you remember the "Lamplighter" nightclub, up the street from the Brooklyn Avenue school?  I walked past there everyday and conjured up images of a smoke-filled, liquor laden den of iniquity with plenty of lounge lizards and slinky ladies with pouty lips!  It was probably not anywhere as romantically sleazy and "pot-boiled" as I imagined.  And one more thing, Eric:  I have once again regained the title of "dinosaur king" that you gave me as a kid, and reminded me about when we chatted at the first reunion.  In my search for vintage toys, I found the two dinosaur sets that I had as a kid:  a 1957 and 1958 "Prehistoric Times."  I was fortunate to, once again, find both in pristine condition.  The sets even have their original paper play set bags that held the dinosaurs, cavemen, palm trees and ferns.  And Barbara, indeed, I too was a fan of Ray Forrest's Children's Theatre and have seen some references to it when Googling on the Internet, but I have not found any old kinescopes.  Hope everyone is well.  Great to share more memories with you all.
   
    From Linda Cohen Greenseid:  First, echoing Zelda's comments, I too remember Erick Wohlgemuth being very kind to me when I moved from Brooklyn to Lynbrook and began Buck in the 4th grade.  He was partly shy, partly funny, and partly serious.  A charming combination.
        To Allen Moss and Eric Hilton:  I believe that Clarabelle became Captain Kangaroo.  But do you know who the first Ronald McDonald clown was?  Also, do you remember The Merry Mailman, Ray Heatherton, who I believe lived in Rockville Centre with his very hot daughter Joey Heatherton.  Remember her?
        To Helen David:  Thanks for the tip.  My brother has tried to sell me on Antarctica as well.  Your description of all the clothing you put on made me remember dressing my toddler children in their layers, and on top of it all went a snowsuit with the arms sticking straight out of course.
        If you like walking among the wildlife, I recommend a trip to the Galapagos Islands.  The penguins stayed at a distance from us, but you had to step over the iguanas and blue-footed boobies who sunned themselves on all the footpaths.  The sea lions love to play and swim between your legs as you are wading into the water.  It was a wonderful experience.  We paired it with a trip to the Amazon Rain Forest in Equador.  That was an equally wonderful experience, sleeping out in the open and falling asleep to the lullabies of howler monkeys, but wildlife was hard to spot there.  Mostly, one heard it.
        Our favorite trip of all time was East Africa.  There, you saw one magnificent sight after another.  Even if there was a day when there were fewer animal spottings, the land was primal and beautiful and even smelled good.
        I would love to swap travel tips with anyone who has gone somewhere wonderful or would like any information from me.  I have been to China, Morocco, Israel, Egypt, Malaysia, Indonesia, as well as all the usual places in Europe.
        Also, I believe I remember Marc Jonas saying how beautiful Lake Tahoe was in the summer?  I highly recommend it for the winter, and we know by now that I am not a winter person.  We never needed more than a long sleeve shirt with a fleece vest over it to walk around, and if you were doing any activities like snowshoeing or cross-country skiing, you could ditch the vest and push up your sleeves.  One of my lasting memories from there was of my husband was in an outdoor hot tub as the snow gently fell on him.  A great place.
   
    Related to Linda's note, this from Ryki Zuckerman:  I read the account of the cruise to Antarctica with great interest, having recently written this story-poem after reading the following little historical note in The New York Times.  Also, due to Helen David's description and praise of the Antarctica cruise -- and some magnetic pull that draws me to the subject and the space -- I am thinking of going there sometime.
        Meanwhile, yesterday morning, it was officially zero, here in Buffalo, with a minus 15 to 20 wind chill.  Monday and Tuesday, they closed the schools.  It's warmed to about 20 above now, and the wind should diminish by tomorrow, though it will stay very cold.  However, the groundhog in Pennsylvania saw his shadow, so maybe it will be spring in a mere six weeks.  South of Buffalo, the weather has been very nasty.  Lots of snow, white-outs, and icy roads.  But the sun was shining in a blue sky today and yesterday.
        And please remember that I sometimes revise these poems, so this version may not be the final one.
   
    On Jan. 18, 1912, English explorer Robert F. Scott and his expedition reached the South Pole, only to discover that Roald Amundsen had gotten there first. The New York Times, Jan. 18, 2007: "On This Day"
   
    natural selection
   
    he slept with the windows open
    even in norwegian winters;
    he romanced ice;
    sculpted out a life
    as explorer of new lands;
    "the last viking",
    his sailors named him;
   
    he let everyone believe
    his ship was bound
    for the north pole,
    but, seagulls sang the news
    that another had already claimed it;
   
    reaching madeira,
    amundsen, towering over his crew,
    pointed the way to a different pole;
    luck sailed south with him;
   
    scott departed from england
    for antarctica with fanfare;
    arrived safely at the land's edge,
    where ill-winds blew
    blizzard after blizzard
    at his expedition;
    no choice but to eat
    their precious rations
    waiting out the storms.
   
    when they finally reached the south pole,
    they were too late;
    the viking and his men
    were nestled in already.
   
    sometimes, something
    we do not know yet,
    sulks in the shadows,
    just out of sight,
    waiting to alter destiny:
   
    nordic secrets doomed
    the british explorer,
    who, expecting reward
    for his dangerous journey
    to a place on a land of ice
    where no one else had ever walked,
    trudged onto the frigid tundra
    and  looked up to see footprints and smoke.
   
    the scott party never
    returned to base camp -
    eight months later
    their frozen corpses were found
    only 11 miles from where
    they had stored
    fuel and food
    and the broken dream
    of being first.