Famous people

I would like to open this up to all that are reading this blog, (yes, both of you) and invite you to add your comments when you feel moved to do so. I’ve changed the parameters to allow anyone (this means you) to make a comment. Before, one had to sign in to comment, but not now. Any passing cyberist can stop by and leave a message now without having to identify themselves. Anonymity rules the day here at blog city! While I’m in the urge mode, let me urge all of you to write a blog of your own, in that way, we can all keep up with each other’s lives, staying connected, so to speak.

Now, I know some of you are going to say you don’t write. But, as you can see, that hasn’t stopped me from blogging, even in the face of several requests to stop - I’m going to call them requests, though, technically they should be categorized as threats. And, I don’t really think that kind of language is necessary, not to mention I don’t think that is humanly possible to do that with a computer - it just won’t fit. So, I’ll continue to write!

Finding things to write about is the real challenge for this writer, as you can tell from previous posts. I’ve had some suggestions to write about episodes from my past, but, most of the statutes of limitation aren’t up yet, so, I’d better not admit anything at this point. Besides, I can’t imagine that things that happened thirty to forty years ago would have any interest to anyone today. And, since my life now is beyond boring, I have little to write about. Perhaps I could write about the famous people I’ve had the occasion to meet. Why not? Let’s start at the beginning - Cheetah!

Who’s Cheetah? Well, my friend, Cheetah was the most famous chimpanzee in the forties and fifties, perhaps, of all time. Cheetah was Tarzan’s friend in all of the Tarzan movies and he was one of my heroes - Tarzan, not Cheetah. But, Cheetah knew Tarzan and that fact made him a person of interest to me. I was only three or four at the time I met Cheetah. My mother and I had traveled to California, as was our custom on many occasion, and someone had suggested we could see Cheetah who was on display somewhere near where we were staying. I don’t remember where, since I was too young to drive. Let me digress here a bit. On those occasions we found ourselves in Southern California in the forties and fifties were some of my most fond memories of my childhood.

Southern California was a paradise then. Driving in over the Cajon pass, one could smell the ocean and magnolias, along with the citrus orchards. It wasn’t until the seventies that the smell of oil, smog, cars, people and every other dirty thing was able to over-smell those original smells. From Riverside, we drove through hundreds of orchards and cultivated fields before arriving at the beach towns where the smell of salt in the air let you know you were near the ocean. I can still remember that smell and the feel of the air, the warm dampness that seemed to wrap around us like a security blanket, making us feel at home. The trips we’d take down to the beach and the Pike, the amusement park on the beach, were always memorable. At some other time, I’ll write about the trips there. For now, I’ll stick to the subject at hand, famous people I’ve met.

I’m not sure if Cheetah was staying in LA, or Long Beach, I think it was LA. I vaguely remember riding the El - the elevated train, more like a street car - between Long Beach and LA, when we saw Cheetah. Before seeing him, we had stopped at a novelty store and I had bought a rubber weenie. I bought it so I could play tricks on Grandma and Grandpa when we got home to Idaho. We finally arrived at the Cheetah home, actually it was just him in a cage on display somewhere. I stood at the cage facing Cheetah, the real friend of Tarzan. He sat there, staring back at me, or, more accurately, at my weenie. Not my weenie, but the rubber one that I had purchased. He reached out of the cage, trying to grab my weenie. I stepped back, saving the weenie and me from the grasp of the chimp. Cheetah took offense at my refusal to share my weenie with him, so he spit on me! Cheetah, the companion of Tarzan, king of the jungle, spit on me! I was devastated. How could someone with those credentials behave like that in public? My faith in the rich and famous was shaken, and remains so to this day. I’ve never watched a Tarzan movie with the same gusto since. Fortunately, my experience with other famous people was more positive, though there was that one time with that famous singer, who must remain nameless, for reasons that also must not be spoken of, who broke my heart. I can’t say anything more about that, having to take the fifth ammendment on the entire affair.

The next famous person I met was Trampus, or, more accurately, Doug McClure the actor who played Trampus on the very popular tv show, The Virginian. The year was 1963 and I was in Hawaii attending the University of Hawaii. Naturally, I was surfing as well. Actually, the reverse was true, I was surfing in Hawaii and attending the University of Hawaii, as well. My priorities were in that order. The Virginian was, as I said, very popular and Doug McClure was very popular at that time. I had watched the show every week while I was in California, but hadn’t seen it for a few months as I had no tv in Hawaii. On the day I met him, I was out surfing at a spot called Threes, just Ewa of Waikiki beach straight out from the Reef Towers and the Halakalani Hotel. I was the only person out for awhile, then another surfer came paddling out. In Hawaii, most all breaks are out on the reef, in this case, about a quarter of a mile out. I continued to surf, catching some nice five to six foot waves. The other surfer was doing the same, and we’d occasionally pass as one of us caught a wave and the other would be paddling out. I kept thinking I knew him since he looked really familiar. Finally, during a lull in the waves, I paddled over - we were only about ten to twenty feet apart since the line up on the waves was usually in the same place- and asked him if we had met. He said no and introduced himself - Doug McClure. It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Doug McClure!!!! I was surfing with a star! We talked for a few minutes, surfed a few more waves, talked some more, etc. I don’t remember what we talked about, probably surfing in California versus Hawaii, but I do remember we hit it off. He was probably happy that he could have a reasonable conversation with a fellow surfer about regular things and not have to put up with all the star stuff he was accustomed to. As the light faded, we decided to paddle in and give it up for the day. I said goodby and headed off to my pad. Somehow, we had decided to meet up the next day at the beach. I don’t remember the details, but at any rate, I met him the next day and we wandered around Waikiki beach together. As we walked up and down the beach, people, mostly girls, would come up to us and ask Doug for his autograph. They would look at me, trying to figure out who the heck I was and if I was worth getting an autograph from. Many decided not to take a chance on missing someone famous and asked me for my signature. I obliged, happy in the thought I’d made a young girl happy thinking she had autographs from two famous people. Doug and I hung out a day or two after that, then he had to return to California. At least he didn’t spit on me.

At a later date, I’ll continue with some of my Hawaii stories. Until then, aloha.