Good Ol' Officer Boyle Of The EEFMS

Good evening Kovacsians. When Edie Adams passed away last week I sent an email to our good friend Jack Phillippe, who grew up in Philadelphia and as a young man was a guest on a January 1952 episode of "Kovacs On The Corner."

Hearing of Edie's passing made Jack reminisce about growing up in Philly during the 1950's and watching the great television shows of that time. He wanted to share some artifacts from his collection with all of us and has been gracious enough to take the time to send me some scans.

The first is of an EEFMS card; it's an original from Ernie's very first show on WPTZ Channel Three, NBC in Philadelphia, "3 To Get Ready." Jack sent this once before and I posted it, but this time its a bit bigger and clearer. Enjoy:

One staple of Philadelphia televison in the 1950s was Officer Pete Boyle, played by that icon of Philadelphia Kids' TV Peter Boyle Sr.. Pete Sr. was the father of the late actor Peter Boyle Jr. most recently of "Everybody Loves Raymond" fame. "Offcier Pete Boyle" appeared in his own shows on WPTZ and many times as a guest on Ernie's. In fact, he played his "Officer Boyle" character the day that Jack appeared as a guest on "KOTC!"

Jack went to high school with Peter Boyle Jr. in the 1950s and Peter was an actor even back then. These photos are some extracts from a playbill that Jack kept from his high school days; they're for a musical called "Song Of Norway" in which the young Mr. Boyle appeared.

A very young Peter Boyle (a far cry from Frank Barone!):

Here he is on the cast list (even in high school it seems he had an understudy):

Peter Boyle Sr. hosted a very well known kids show in Philly called "Chuckwagon Pete" in which played the title character. Here's an ad he took out in the playbill:

You can click on the "Peter Boyle Sr." link above to see a photo of "Chuck Wagon Pete" and read more about the show.

Jack, thanks again for some great memories.

Until next time, "it's been real!"

AL QUAGLIATA

P.S.- The Ernie Kovacs My Space Fan Page is up to 828 friends since our last post. As always we thank everyone who requested an add or accepted a request from us. We also thank you for the nice comments sent about Edie.

Going Back To The Corner With Kovacs

Good evening my fellow Kovacsians. Just a few tidbits of info for you tonight.

The Ernie Kovacs My Space Fan Page is up to 725 friends and as always we thank everyone who requested an add or accepted a request from us. It seems that the friend requests for the Fan Page have started to level off so I hope you'll encourage your friends to contact us if they haven't. I'd love it to hit 1,000 members by the end of the summer if possible.

I ran a piece on May 23rd called "Hanging Out On The Corner With Kovacs" in which I interviewed my friend from Pennsylvania, Mr. Jack Phillippe, about his appearance on a January, 1952 episode of "Kovacs On The Corner." Unfortunately I didn't have the photos I would liked to have run so I put up a pic of the street sign for Ernie Kovacs Street in Ernie's hometown of Trenton, New Jersey. I figured that would indicate the idea of "corner" well enough as the sign is at the corner of Stockton Street.

Well, Kovacsians, I have since acquired some photos that supplement the interview nicely and I'd like to share them with you. Better late than never is my motto. I couldn't have done this without Jack's help so thanks Jack!!

Here's a compilation of photos from the episode of "KOTC" on which Jack appeared:

Jack also has his original membership card in the "EEFMS" which was Ernie's fan club. He made me a copy and I've scanned it to share with you. I've shown photos of these cards before which have been sent to me by Ernie fans. The difference in this case is that those were from Ernie's days in NYC; this is an original card from his very first show on WPTZ Channel Three, NBC in Philadelphia, "3 To Get Ready." Enjoy, as I'm sure very few of these still exist:

Thanks for your help Jack and for taking us on this wonderful trip down memory lane!

Moving on to other news Kovacsians. My good friend and contributor to this blog, Ben "Undercrank" Model, is an expert on silent film (when you get a chance click on the link and you'll see what I mean). Ben sent me the following email:

A suggestion for the blog: you have the sub-head "A blog devoted to the Charlie Chaplin of Television, the late great Ernie Kovacs!"

I think of Kovacs as more a Buster Keaton than a Chaplin. BK used the medium of film in ways that Chaplin never bothered with, and occasionally called attention to the fact that you were watching a film. You might consider revising this. Just my $0.02...

Great idea Ben! Your $0.02 has been accepted and the sub-head has been changed. No offense to Mr. Chaplin if he's up there looking down at this...

I'd like to leave you with a couple of internet pieces I found enjoyable. The first is from the blog Boomerville, USA and it offers up some video of the infamous "Nairobi Trio." The second is a wonderful video celebrating the many years in television of station WIVB-TV. This Buffalo, New York station, which also broadcast Ernie's shows, did some wonderfully creative and original programs of their own during television's golden age. You won't see any Ernie material in the piece but its well worth watching. If only television were like this today!

Thanks for stopping by my friends and until we meet again I bid you a very heartfelt "It's Been Real!"

A Reminiscence From "Goldbug"

Let me start off by saying that Ernie's MySpace Fan Page is up to 269 friends. Once again (and I can't say it enough) a profound thanks to all the folks who accepted our invitation. Please let your friends know about us as well.

One of those friends is a great guy who goes by the name of "Goldbug" on MySpace and is a devout Ernie-phile, "Kovacs-phile" or as I like to say "Kovacsian" which I guess is sort of an Armenian term. Here he remembers the first time he ever saw the great Ernie Kovacs:

I was always "blamed" for the fact that my family became the third on our block to own a television set. (When did they stop calling them "sets"?)

The second set belonged to the family of the only other little kid on the block. She had recently turned five. I was three-and-a-half. We were playmates; and she'd introduced me to the Howdy Doody Show. It aired just as her family were preparing to sit down to dinner; and I had to be removed– kicking and screaming– to my own television-less home. My Father always claimed that he bought the damned thing just to shut me up...

On the last Saturday morning of 1950, a truck from the local appliance store pulled into our driveway. It was bitter cold outside, with wind-driven snow flurries. Two men in coveralls manhandled an enormously heavy Westinghouse table-top black-and-white– with a HUGE 17-inch screen– up the front steps and into the corner of the living room that had been vacated, the day before, by the Christmas tree which by then had served its purpose. They set up the TV, then left my Father in charge of its operation. He twiddled its knobs, and twisted its rabbit-ears, as a test-screen came into focus. I wanted to watch Howdy Doody then and there, and couldn't understand why that wasn't possible. In his most imperious tone, the Old Man warned me that I was never to touch his television without a grownup in attendance. It had cost him six hundred dollars. (And those were 1950 dollars!)

I did I was told through Sunday. But by Monday morning, I couldn't resist any longer. Immediately after breakfast– while nobody was looking, I turned it on. To my disappointment, Howdy Doody was a no-show. Instead, there appeared a man with a moustache and a cigar. The picture flickered and rolled. I whined. Somebody came into the living room; and after scolding me for messing with the television unattended, adjusted the picture, and left me alone to watch. Thus came my first introduction to Ernie Kovacs.

The show, of course, was 3 To Get Ready. I don't remember any details of what Ernie did that day, but it was sufficiently zany and infectious that from that moment forward, Howdy Doody was eclipsed. I still watched him, of course. Religiously. As did my friend Karin. Our set was newer than theirs, the screen was larger, and the picture sharper. But for me, the real thrill of the day was Ernie. I never missed him. I considered myself very privileged not to have to go to work or school, as my Father and sisters did. I stayed tuned for the whole show.

I remember the clock in the corner, the Kapusta Kid, Gertrude the giant rag-doll, and Norman Brooks, the news-man. I remember watching the test screen, knowing that at any moment, the fun would begin. And it always did. I recall Ernie running down a corridor, toward the camera, calling "I'm coming! I'm coming!" One morning, when he wasn't there, an announcer introduced "The star of our show" and Gertrude came flying into view from off-camera, to the shrill sound of a siren-whistle. She landed head-first, and sprawled across the floor. Another time, Ernie climbed out of the ceiling...

Forty years later, I relived those days in the pages of "Kovacsland." Once, in an admiring imitation of Ernie, I flung a cold pancake across the kitchen. Instead of a laugh, I got a spanking. I distinctly remember the hands of the clock behind Norm Brooks spinning in fast-motion. And I remember water dripping on the hapless newsman from above, while he maintained his composure and continued reading the news with a straight face. I laughed myself silly.

Ernie kept popping up during the day. At less than four years of age, I wasn't big on cooking shows. I remember "plugs" for Deadline for Dinner on the station breaks, but the show never interested me– until the day Ernie showed up, and made a shambles of the kitchen while appearing to have the time of his life. And there was "Kovacs on the Corner" with Pete Boyle (who, several years later, introduced my generation of Philadelphia kids to The Little Rascals) and Al the Dog. Supposedly, Al was invisible to grownups. Somebody played along with the gag one day, and I became a true believer.

Then Edith Adams joined the fun. I thought her name was "Eat-It." She wasn't on "Deadline for Dinner" but Ernie was. I thought maybe she "ate" the zany concoctions Ernie cooked up in the afternoon. But I never saw her eat. She sang; and laughed; and was pretty...

"Ernie in Kovacsland" came on shortly before my bedtime. I laughed so hard I couldn't fall asleep. His humor seemed specially designed to appeal to little kids. I'd seen his daughters on TTGR. They were mine and Karin's ages. He knew how to make us laugh; and seemed to take great pleasure in doing so.

Then one day, to my horror, he was gone. By sheer coincidence, he left WPTZ at just about the same time that the grand steam locomotives of the Pennsylvania and the Reading Railroads were replaced by those boxy, boring diesels. In my young mind, I always equated the disappearance of Ernie and the steam trains, and thought there was a connection. Now, in his place on Channel 3 was some bespectacled guy with a boring voice and a chimpanzee. I cried and whined until the grownups warned me that if I didn't desist, they'd give me something to cry about.

I don't remember "Kovacs Unlimited" at all. Either it wasn't on in Philadelphia; or it came on past my bedtime. Fortunately, by the time the ill-fated Ernie Kovacs Show aired, my parents were bored of Uncle Miltie. Plus, they too had enjoyed Ernie in his local Philadelphia days. I don't think I ever missed the show during its short run. In fact, for the rest of his lifetime, I don't think I missed anything that Ernie Kovacs appeared in. Today, I own the DVD's; the videotapes; a copy of a circa-1988 special from the Classic Movie Channel; A&E's Biography of Ernie; a copy of "Between the Laughter" with Jeff Goldblum; and "Kovacsland" by Diana Rico.

One Saturday morning in January 1962, I awoke to the horrifying news that Ernie had died in a car crash the night before. I was fourteen-and-a-half by then, and had been a fan for eleven years. That coming week, I was to give an oral report in English class, on my favorite television show. Naturally, I had chosen the Ernie Kovacs Dutch Masters Specials. That Saturday, I closed myself in my room and cried all day. It was the first time in my life that I'd ever cried over someone's death. By Tuesday, I had prepared a "substitute" report on "The Flintstones" because I was afraid I'd cry in front of my English class, if I tried to do the one on Ernie.

Today, I'm into my 57th year as an Erniephile. And I'm sure I'll continue to be one, until I draw my final breath...

Thanks, Goldbug, for a great story! And, my friend, for saving me from having to write a lot today!

I like to end every post with some relevant Ernie links which I've found during the previous week either on blogs or on the web. Here's one that was nice enough to link to my site, http://www.erniekovacs.net/ without me having to ask. Its talks about the ending credits for Ernie's show:

http://themoderatevoice.com/entertainment/11996/classic-comedy-ernie-kovacs-final-shows-opening-credits/

And, I found this blog entry about the Nairobi Trio from fellow blogger "Sisysphus:"

http://hoosierinva.blogspot.com/2007/04/more-friday-fun.html

That's all for this week. Thanks folks. Its been real!

Comments From A Fan: Lee Munsick

Hi folks. When a fan writes me with some great Ernie observations, I've decided that the blog will be the place to post them. These comments are taken from an insightful email from Lee Munsick who saw the early Ernie shows. Thanks Lee, for the look back! Here we go:

I was born in 1936. From age 8 I was fascinated with radio. When EK started on WPTZ-3 in Philly, my family lived about 25-30 miles due west of NYC well up a hill. I think in 1948 Dad bought our first TV, a Crosley 10". As an old time radio fan and wannabe announcer since age 8, I was fascinated with TV. Especially Arthur Godfrey, whose 1950-ish morning shows were simulcast - so one was watching a radio show take place.

By turning our rabbit ears we could get all the NY stations and all the Philly stations. One morning I found Kovacs, and tended to be late to school for many mornings after. When my older brother came home from college I sat him down in front of the set and we both about fell on the floor laughing.

I have (somewhere) an EEFMS card (Ernie signed them all) which I treasure. I know you are too young to have seen those pre-network shows, and you really missed something. Just about everything he did on the web that took advantage of the abilities of the new medium, he developed in Philly first. Dueling with himself, the tilted table with milk pitcher and glass come to mind. I loved the network stuff as well and all the characters. Unfortunately those first shows were all live and before kinescopes and certainly videotape, so do not exist. I've often wondered if anyone had an early Brush tape recorder and at least took down the audio, but of course Ernie is primarily visual although great writing.

The one network thing I never could figure out was Ernie playing a hyped-up hep used car salesman. He stood next to a little Nash, and as he got more and more excited about what a terrific deal it was, he banged his fist on the fender. The car shot down out of sight and the camera backed up to show a hole in the floor. It didn't go down like on a lift - it just DROPPED! I've never figured how they did that. Some reviewer somewhere revealed that they blew the budget for 3 shows on that one gag.

Thanks again Lee. Folks, feel free to comment on this post, however, please read the rules for commenting by clicking HERE.