Bloody Germans

The Image I Had of America Through My TV as a Child

Despite the many criticisms that there may be about us watching far too much television, it is without doubt that television does provide us with another function, other than just simple entertainment -- it also offers us plenty of education.

Since a very early age, I have been around the world several times and seen many thousands of animals, birds and fish, that I might never have known even existed without my goggle-box. I have been down to the bottom of the deepest oceans and up to the top of the highest mountains. I’ve even travelled around in Space -- and all without having to leave my comfy sofa, except that is, during the commercials.

Yet apart from all those many very interesting documentaries, wildlife and holiday programmes, that were purposely designed to daily increase our knowledge of the world, I am also fully aware that I have learnt just as much about other people in far off lands, simply by watching their exported television.

 This is even far more the case with television programmes that comes out of America and enters the homes of just about everywhere around the globe. Programmes either in American English or dubbed into German, French, Italian or Chinese -- it makes no difference because the same information is always present.

Please allow me to explain..,

When I was a kid and long before my early teens, my family were late in obtaining the new in-house entertainment pleasure of television.

During our more formative years, myself and my two brothers Jack and Dave, were brought up on the Island of Jersey, and in those days -- we never even heard of television, let alone saw one.

Throughout those early days of gross depravation, we had to idly waste our time by going out into the fresh air, listen to the radio, talk amongst ourselves, or perhaps; dare I say it --  read a book.

Then around 1955 to ‘56, our family jumped on an overnight ferry and we all came to live in Bournemouth, on the south coast of the British mainland. Hence: we soon heard about and saw our first telly.

But not at our home -- only by looking in shops. Can you believe that then, we were so excited about the whole affair, we used to stand for hours -- and in the pouring rain, watching Rag, Tag and Bobtail through the shop window, with no sound and in black n’ white -- and on a screen no larger than seven inches?

Our father was a milk-rounds-man back then, and the most he brought home was eleven pounds a week. Televisions at that time cost around 100 Guineas. Yes Guineas! That gives you a good idea of how long ago it was. Everything of considered luxury, or had that certain ‘snootiness’ attached to it,  always seemed to be price-tagged in Guineas; that’s one pound and one shilling for those who don’t know; twenty one shillings went forward to make up one whole Guinea.

So in our house, with sugar itself even being a pure luxury for us, and roast chicken something we’d all save up to devour only at Yuletide -- there was no way my parents were going to adorn the corner of our living room with a hundred guinea telly.

My brother Dave and I used to get around this by visiting a large store, not far from our seedy rented seedy. A place where televisions, that were so much the latest in-thing technology in which not everybody could afford, were set up in this television viewing area that had rows upon rows of seats in place; like a mini-cinema, for the prospective customers to sit and enjoy, and be hooked, then hopefully coaxed into buying a television set. Even if they did have to practically starve for the next five years in order to pay for it.

Well Dave and I -- being Dave and I.., took great advantage of this most magnificent and generous scheme. We used to go there regularly on a Saturday afternoon and watch the Cisco Kid in black n’ white. We never could figure out why his big hat never came off -- not even when he had a fight or fell off his horse.

I was already, as a young child, being slowly indoctrinated into America.

Our regular Saturday visits to watch in-store television, was soon becoming quite obvious to the shop assistants, and it did seem to slightly irritate them. Especially seeings most times, we were the only ones keen enough to take up this great opportunity from their kind and generous benevolence.

We knew, even at that early age -- that all good things must come to an end, and later, they surely did.

But if I am truly honest about it -- I think it was by our making ourselves more comfortable with a previously acquired TV snack of fish n’ chips wrapped in newspaper, that -- I have to admit, did send out a strong smell of fat and vinegar that whiffed its way across and possibly upstairs into the soft furnishing department. I think it was that, that surely put the nail in our coffin; we had pushed the boat out too far.

We were then, by leaps and bounds, physically ejected from the store and told never to return again. And sadly, so ended our Saturday regular spot in comfortable TV viewing.

Even now, some thirty or forty years later, I would still tremble if I walked into that store -- just in case they have a picture of me posted up somewhere on the wall.

So it was here that my brother and I separated in our joint ventures of seeking television viewing. I soon figured out that, if televisions cost so much money -- ‘best  if I found a new friend at school, who is fortunate enough to have rich parents!

I tell you -- I was a pretty smart kid!

In all, I didn’t do too bad. I had added several new friends to my list -- and they all had homes that proudly manifested a telly in the corner of the room. Many of my old and more indigenous friends, might have considered me a snob back then -- but they only had half the story; I could watch children’s television at any time and day that I wished.

No fool me -- I had it all sussed.

But alas -- the great day finally came, when my dad came home with a telly. I remember that day so well and -- like when JFK was shot -- I can even remember what I was doing at the time.

Our junior school was not far from our home, and so I use to come home at lunch break (you have to understand, it was also cheaper for my mum to get us to come home for lunch, than it would have been for her to pay out for our school dinners). And it was in one of those home-trip lunch breaks, that I saw my father had brought home a television set, after finishing his early morning milk round.

When he switched it on -- I was so delighted; TV in our own home -- “Wow! We were going upmarket!”

The picture in those days, took ages to warm up and filter through, but as soon as it did -- I saw a game of cricket. I hate cricket -- in fact, I hate almost every sport on TV. But back then, when I saw all them little white figures running around and playing cricket on our small seven inch black and white TV; our TV and in our own living room -- I was glued to it for hours. So much so -- I forgot to go back to school again that afternoon. And my parents, who also became so engrossed themselves -- they even forgot to remind me.

During those early times, we only had one television station to watch, which lead to far more family agreements than the one hundred and twenty two that we have today. All we had then was the BBC and even in that, it only offered a limited number of viewing hours. Closedown; the little white spot in the centre of the screen, was something that faded out completely a long long time ago. But we used sit there for hour upon hour, absorbing programmes like ‘I Love Lucy’, ‘I Married Joan’, 'Sergeant Bilko’.

Can you see where I’m slowly going?

On our regular visits to see our relatives living in London, we soon noticed that they all had two stations up there -- they had the BBC and an Independent Commercial channel called ITV; Channel Eleven was what it was lovingly called.

We wanted all that too!

And like the day I can so vividly remember getting our first television -- I can also remember that pioneering day when my dad eagerly but carefully, first picked up the signal for ITV.

As he twiddled around with the indoor aerial -- we slowly saw ‘Gunlaw’ (later named ‘Gunsmoke’; or was it the other way around?) suddenly come into focus on our screen. James Arness as ‘Matt Dillion’, and Boot Hill, Miss Kitty,, Doc Holiday -- Oh no.., that was ‘Wyatt Earp’, which also came onto our screens around then. We had good old Major Seth Adams and Flint in ‘Wagon Train’, and I mustn’t forget the funny old bearded cook named, Charlie Wooster. And on top of that, we also had ‘Cheyenne Bodie’ played by Clint Walker and James Garner in ‘Maverick’.

And ‘Wells Fargo’ -- I mustn’t forget that..,

‘Jim Hardie’ played by Dale Robertson -- he was my first sight of a left-handed gun and was such a good looking guy. He met just about every historic western character that there ever was; and they were all handsome too -- even William Boney, known as Billy The Kid. Who, as I found out much later and to my horror, was really just a gormless looking buck tooth skinny kid. And now that’s just reminded me also of another good old western called, ‘Have Gun Will Travel’, about a four-pack gun-tootin’ set of Bounty Hunters -- I used to enjoy watching Slim, an aptly named tall skinny gunslinger.

It’s all coming back to me now -- and I know I must be doing myself a gross injustice by clearly showing up my age -- but I just wanted to portray to you just how much it was so exciting for me back then, when I first received all these images of America into my mind.

I just fell in love with their Westerns!

We were soon leaning how in America -- the good guys not only never lost their hats, nor had their hair ruffled in a fight, but also that it was the good guys who mostly wore the white hats, could afford the smart snazzy clothes and on top of all that -- they were all truly handsome. Many times the producers of those shows gave the main act a funny looking, oddly-shaped, strangely dressed, or far less superior in intelligence, sidekick -- simply to help upstage the image of the main character even further. I mean, who wouldn’t look pretty good standing next to Tonto or Pancho?

They didn’t even have the kindness to give those poor sidekicks secondary-heroic names; everything for them was purposely made inferior. Those actors were the original fall guys. Sometimes I think that if it wasn’t for some of the role player’s names been initially depicted long ago through the comic books, I feel sure we’d have all been watching Batman and Robinaldo!

A classic example of this device was when some clever guy(s), came up with the brilliant idea of having both the hero and fall guy as one person. I refer to none other than Superman and idiot Clark Kent. Those glasses of his sure had me fooled for years.

However, the bad guys -- they were ones who always wore the black tatty hats, scruffy clothes and for some quirky reason, they were always far away from being handsome; they were often as ugly as sin itself.  I thought, it must have been so easy in those days to be a lawman -- they could spot them all coming long before the crime was committed. I try to imagine how it must have been for those actors when they attended their first audition and screen-test -- to be told you can play ‘Captain Steve Carson’, must have been pretty heart-warming, but to be told you’d be ‘Fingers’, Fat Larry or Tonto, must have felt pretty disheartening for them. It clearly had their future acting career mapped out for life. But then, looking on the bright side of it all, being Tonto or even Pancho, must have been a far more cheerful prospect than have your name on the credits as, ‘Mean Guy Behind Bar’

And then of course -- going in further down the list of typecasts, there were the Indians. They were always the bad guys then, and the only lines they got was to just scream and holler a lot. When us kids went out to play, everybody just wanted to play the good guys -- but even being the bad guy, was by far better than having the role of playing the savage Indian dumped on you. You just knew straightaway that you wasn’t a big hit with the gang when they always picked you out to play the Indian. You knew you’d be invariably and as was always expected of you -- get killed and so the only thing you ever got to say was, “Ugh!” and “Aghhh!” But Captain Steve Carson, he only got wounded for the millionth time -- and in those days, nobody ever died from being shot in a limb. It just didn’t happen!

So you can quite easily see how this American type role-casting, was seriously affecting our young lives and became very prominent in our early play and social awareness.

As we received more and more American television into our homes with crime series like ‘77 Sunset Strip’, I realised that this same rule must apply for all times and generations; the good guys were brainy, smart and handsome; often rich, drove fancy cars, lived in smart apartments -- and on top of that, they were all extremely well proportioned and gorgeously handsome. The bad guys; the ones who were apparently always stealing the money -- they had absolutely nothing to show for it; they were often  depicted as scruffy, unintelligent, drove rough cars, lived in run down poky flats with neon green, red and blue flashing lights, that flickered constantly into their dingy curtainless rooms. And if that wasn’t bad enough for them -- these poor guys were always very disproportionate; skinny or very fat -- and they were always so darn ugly to look at.

Just what was America trying to tell us?

Don’t rob a bank or you’ll turn fat and ugly -- or only fat and ugly people commit crimes?

The one programme back then, that came regularly to our screens, and one that I was almost brought up on, was ‘Lost in Space’.

Can any of you remember that?

Again, it was all in black and white and it told of a weekly tale about the Space Family Robinson’s, who first set out from crowded planet Earth in Jupiter 2, in search for a new life in the Alpha Centuri system, and quite literally; from first week to the end of the series, became and were always, ‘Lost in Space’.

Now before any of you begin to get concerned over how much information I have managed to retain in my head over this old black and white TV programme, let me tell you right now -- I did some research prior to writing this article, so I am not writing it all from pure memory. However, the only thing that I can vividly remember, is just how much influence that long running TV series had on me during my oh so young life.

So (ahem).., as my research results suggests:

‘The official passengers on Jupiter II were Professor John Robinson, his wife Maureen, and their three kids. Judy, the eldest daughter, was more on the artistic side. She didn't share in the intellectual stimulation of her family, but she found a friend in the hunky pilot Major Don West. Penny was the family tomboy and a bit of a brain. But tops in the brain department was youngest child Will, who with his robot companion, had a unique talent for undermining Dr. Smith's nasty schemes.’

Now do you remember it?

If not -- this should help jog-up more of your memories..,

“Danger! Danger Will Robinson!”

Now picture big metal Robot with flapping corrugated arms and flashing lights to boot.

And also bearing in mind, that the baddie of the scene was Colonel Zachery Smith, who was a reluctant stowaway and enemy spy/saboteur -- and just about everything else that got me mad on a late Sunday  afternoon.

But my point is, apart from the spinally looking and weird facial features of bad guy Zachery Smith -- everybody else -- including the Robot, were all good looking and just about a hundred and one per cent perfect in every other imaginable way.

If this had of been a more realistic family, the father of three might have had a few grey hairs around the sides of his old balding head and a protruding pot belly to match. The mother would have probably had a bit more furniture attached to the sides of her hips -- okay, its no good me trying to be politically correct here; she would have been fat, and more likely than not -- had often given a bit of stick to her old man over him always leaving his dirty socks around the capsule. She might have also looked a lot older than her eldest daughter.

The eldest daughter Judy, especially with her being on the artistic side, might have also been a bit more rebellious than how she was portrayed, instead of coming across to us as growing up to be the perfect future mother of all times; who had no need at all for a young and wild life. She never really partied at all and not once did I ever see her get drunk -- let alone, did she ever give us one inkling that she was having it away with the Mr Perfect handsome and hunky pilot, Major Don West.

As kids -- we needed all this reality in our oh so young lives!

And if that wasn’t America telling us all that every single person in America is non-fat, good looking and immaculately perfect in every possible way -- they even bore kids who were extra-brainy. Enter Penny the whizz-kid of this and every other century -- who, I might add -- doesn’t even come up close to being rank-second to her even brainier than brainy, youngest of all the family -- super whizz-kid brother Will. He was even cleverer than the rest of the family and all the whole world’s geniuses put together!

Nobody on that ‘Lost Planet’ came across as being anything other than highly intelligent and saintly moral -- that is, apart from the baddie Dr. Smith and his nasty never-to-work-out dastardly schemes; even the robot well outranked that guy in just about every conceivable area, including his tin looks.

It was the same with all the other baddies they had to encounter on that lost and lonely planet -- all ugly, every man-jack one of them. And this is probably why we still see those same created images of depicted ‘people’ from other planets today. They are not just always ugly -- but they are sticky and ‘yukky’ as well.

I mean nowadays, of course I can clearly understand all this to be just pure ‘imagery’, but in my very young days, I really believed it all to be true. From the many American television programmes I watched, I really thought that all Americans were psychically well built or endowed, had exceedingly good looks, held a high and unique intelligence, drove nice big fancy cars, had the best top jobs, lived in the richest and finest furnished homes and apartments. And they even made all those most wise and moral daily decisions -- that is, all Americans except the American baddies.

American TV, when I was a child, really had me in believing all that!

Of course, this bubble soon burst, when as an older but still young teenager, I happened to visit a place called  Southampton; thirty miles away from my home town. I went inside a  bar/cafe in the main city centre, and occupying almost the whole table seating inside, there was a large group of serving American Marines, who’s warship had recently docked into the nearby harbour.

To my shock and horror -- or was it just sheer disappointment? All these young American GI’s looked quite average and normal to me; just like the young men of my own country. Some were tall and some were short, some fat and  some thin. Some had good looks, others I wouldn’t have touched with a barge pole. But the most strangest thing of all that  I quickly observed, is that they all seemed to sport one shade of hair -- black; it was almost like looking at a contingent of military clones. And the other and even more noticeable thing about them all, is that none of them had a good suntan. I had always seen  G.I. Joe's and Marines at the movies, looking like bronzed heroes , but these guys were just plain and normal -- and as white as sheep. So white, I though maybe their ship had just been sunk!

At the time, I wished I had not seen this most revealing, yet awesome sight, because that real shock image I had back then, wiped away in a flash every other ‘believable’ image I once had before of  oh so superior and athletic looking Americans.

‘D****t all -- they are just like us, except that they talk a bit funny.’

Yet surprisingly enough, that exact kind of American imagery still comes out of my television and cinema screens today. All those dreaded Commie Russians and bad drug dealers look even uglier today in full blown colour. And although I am myself wise enough now to see it today as just all ‘imagery’, and that America does like to show itself off with only its best. With programmes such as ‘Baywatch’, I not only dread what same repeated messages are still being given to all the young people who live outside America -- but by far more a serious concern to me than that, is just what kind of message is America’s giving out to its own young people?

‘Unless you are a beautiful and well proportioned person -- you’re going nowhere in the USA, except down and maybe to jail!’

That statement may come over to you as being a bit over-dramatic. But consider, many children, especially young teenagers, are seriously affected by all these perfect images that they keep seeing of other people on, not only their television screens and at the cinema, but also in their glossy magazines. To suggest that being extremely good looking and having a body so perfect and fine, will not only lead you to fame and fortune, but it will also suggest that you will be perfect in just about every other way. In my experiences of life, I have often found those kind of ‘perfect’ people, to the most obnoxious and vain I have ever seen, and as for moral self-endeavour -- the only true word I can often pick from there is, ‘self’.

Such practices of imagery through our media scenes, may appear to many as quite harmless, but for some, or maybe even many people, they can and no doubt have led to feelings of self-inadequacy and low self-esteem. It would come as no surprise to me, if in fact it did turn out to be true -- that many fat, skinny or non-beautiful people; as they grow from a young age into young adulthood, turned into the nasty baddie, as first depicted and suggested long ago on our screens.

Many times, people will talk about censoring sex and violence on our screens, but I think it would be rare for somebody to turn out bad from watching too many of those films, but they could be slowly turned in their character, from being affected by the more daily and more subtle images of how perfect people should look and therefore be -- and in which clearly, they may see themselves as not.

This to me is far more damaging to young minds than the sex and violence scenes -- simply because of the daily and so subtle -- but effective, imagery.

But alas dear friends -- all is not lost and big changes have already been long made. There are a few programmes that are being made today in America, for anybody; either living inside or outside of America, who like me, do need to see American TV images that depict the more real and normal American -- people just like you and me.,

So -- Long live ‘Homer Simpson’ and the ‘Jerry Springer’ audience -- the true voice and image of America!

When I think back to the late 50’s, the first television I saw was one that my father brought home. It was a seven inch black and white screen and we had only one channel to watch -- the BBC. The first programme I viewed on that tiny almost circular screen, was a game of cricket -- and I was glued to it for hours. I don’t know why because I hate bloody cricket; it’s such a slow boring game that my father, for gawds sake,  even used to follow for hours upon hours on the radio! But at that time, I thought that it was marvellous to get cinema right into our home and as a young child, I was gob-smacked by it all.

When I think back to the late 50’s, and the first television I saw that my father brought home, I realise that although we may have come far with all the past novelties; more picture lines, larger screens and then colour, it has all slowly become the norm. Yet, despite all the new technology we’ve encountered over the past years -- it is still  only a box in the corner of the room. All this past technology has just been TV catching up to how it should be -- I have always waited for the day of real revolutionary television -- when TV’s are mini cinema’s built into the wall -- we are now almost at that  point, but for the costs.

So, when I think about it, we haven’t really progressed that much -- and boring cricket is still being shown live on the box!

!’