No mister Putnam he dead

 


No mister Putnam he dead


    John Sheehy used to say there were more horse's asses than horses and there was no greater horse's ass than radio and TV commentator George Putnam. George had a stentorian voice and a conservative bent that was as phony as his Talk Back radio show. "In 1965, Putnam narrated a film titled Perversion for Profit," in which he warned viewers about magazines containing nudity and homosexual material, saying homosexuals were perverted and misfits, as well as implying they were child molesters." Putnam was sort of the face of LA TV news when we were younger on the local channels (5, 11,13) and sometimes had in-studio guests that might put forward kooky ideas live. One night, as Jack, Greg and I watched in the front room on McNerney George had two young entrepeneurs appear with a foolproof mousetrap. Of couse everyone wants a better mousetrap and these two dapper gents set up this complicated metal apparatus in front of the cameras with Putnam watching. They gave instructions as they went talking about how humane and effective the electric device was in every way. A cute little mouse was presented and as it crawled into the chamber and stopped suddenly, then got still. Putnam asked in his famous baritone "now...is it caught?" The clueless inventors replied "No Mister Putnam...he dead" Since it is illegal to kill any animal on TV George almost soiled himself and began sputtering "oh...I did not know...had no idea...oh" The cameras quickly cut the image and a commercial took over the screen. It was a surprise event that we never forgot and repeated many times over the years. Often to answer any question posed to us as "No Mister Putnam he dead" George Putnam lived a long and very prosperous life, having sixty-five thoroughbred horses on his Chino ranch and spread his right-wing nonsense from the basement of the Arco towers across from my library into his dotage. "back at 10, see you then."




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Paul Knowlton's White Lotus

Image
 Paul Knowlton's White Lotus \      It is ironic that this post is titled something that means nothing to the protagonist. Paul, Zeke, "the Prince," "Senor Suerte" or the Snail (I never called him that.) My old pal just created a memorable vacation on the island of Oahu where the mean old world was a far off nightmare and the closest thing to stress was choosing which kind of massage you would request. Paul was the second friend in my life and we grew up about a block away from each other. We were Catholic boys and loved sports that created a bond lasting seventy years. This connection continued from grammar school to High School, to Community College to University. We were roomates from 1968 to 1972 and our families had a solid respect for one another. Paul grew up in a family of nine kids at a tract house in South Gate when the common man lived the American dream. Then again with 11 mouths to feed the American dream can only stretch so far. It is a cliche but ...
Read more

alright mother

Image
  alright mother- “You can find poetry in your everyday life, your memory, in what people say on the bus, in the news, or just what’s in your heart.” —Carol Ann Duffy  Greg was always delighted by a story told by his mother in law about a "sortie" dinner party attended by a Doctor "Putty" Putnam who had been forced to attend an opera by his wife. When asked by a clueless guest if he enjoyed the opera, his response was  "fuck you!" When I was visiting Bear Cove and sitting next to the matriarch Greg goaded her into telling the tale. But a rum n' coke had loosened "Minnie's" tongue and when she got to Putty's answer she blurted a rather hard FUCK YOU!  Roy, hearing his bride curse thusly said across the table "Alright mother!"
Read more

Athletic Club Flower shop

Image
  Athletic Club Flower shop      This phrase is actually the telephone greeting at Greg's uncle Johnny Tassano's flower shop at 808 W. 8th street near Flower street in downtown L.A. Greg loved the place and culled many a story and line from his experiences at a place he worked and visited fondly. Even when he wasn't employed he drove around with cousin Kent (Kevin Smith) and they had a ball observing the absurdities of modern living in the Southland. The phone was answered by different employees and each had a unique turn of "Athletic Club...flowershopppp" There was owner John Tassano, right-hand man Ronald P. Lord, "Speed," a delivery man, and Carmen who cut flowers and told odd anecdotes such as the origin of pizza. I believe Greg and Kevin could go on for weeks about the people they met on their deliveries as they set forth across the city of the angels to spread floral joy. This might include places to eat, fascinating neighborhoods, cemeteries, lone...
Read more