By Louis A. Zona
YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio – So, what is a picture of Jerry Mahoney doing in my office?
Did I hear someone asking, “Who the heck is Jerry Mahoney?” Jerry was my friend way back in my childhood when television meant one TV network and Saturday morning was reserved for youngsters.
For me, the star of early Saturday morning was a ventriloquist dummy named Jerry Mahoney who, with his human partner, Paul Winchell, fought off the bad dudes.
Jerry was so popular that millions of children asked Santa for a replica of the famous dummy for Christmas.
Jerry Mahoney became my best friend during my childhood years and, in fact, kept the monsters away when my blood brother was too busy to do it.
The creator of Jerry Mahoney, Winchell, was a genius who – among other accomplishments – created the first artificial human heart. He was inspired to do so by the death of his father of heart disease.
Of course, my knowledge of Winchell’s life came much later than those Saturday morning years with Jerry Mahoney.
To me, Jerry was real, and I called upon him when I needed to know what was rubbing against my bedroom window in the middle of the night. Mom usually delivered Jerry to my bedside when his presence was needed.
Ventriloquism is a lost art. Kids today would rather pull a phone out of their pocket and stay occupied by that lighted screen for hours than watch to see if the ventriloquist’s lips are moving.
But it has come back into favor, thanks in large measure to the amazing work of Jeff Dunham.
I keep a photo of Jerry Mahoney and Paul Winchell on my office bookshelf, and even glance at the photo now and then to remind me of that simpler time of life that is so rich with memories.
Saturday morning also meant episodes of “The Lone Ranger.”
What a great show. The plotline was never quite realistic, but to a 10-year-old, the masked rider of the plains was as real as Superman’s cape. Look, up in the sky … it’s a bird … it’s a plane … no, it’s Superman.
For me, one of television’s saddest moments was when George Reeves, the actor who played the Man of Steel on television for decades, was not permitted to ever wear the famous costume again in public. Reeves, who took the role seriously, was crushed when the owners of the Superman property decided he had gotten too old to appear in public as Superman.
Saturday morning in the late 1950s was all about cowboys with an occasional tale of the Native Americans subtly included (The Lone Ranger’s partner was, after all, Tonto).
Other Saturday morning favorites were “Fury,” the tale of a young boy and his Stallion; and “The Cisco Kid,” the weekly adventure of a Mexican cowboy and his friend, Pancho, that had a touch of humor.
But of all the television cowboys, my favorite was Gene Autry, the singing cowboy who introduced kids to the song “Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer” and a few other classics.
While cowboy programs like “The Lone Ranger” were primarily intended for children, cowboy programs would soon become popular with adult audiences as well.
My favorite in that category would have to be “Gunsmoke.” The show had adult themes and was centered around Marshal Matt Dillon of Dodge City, played by James Arness. With an amazing cast, it became the longest-running television show, airing for over 20 years.
A favorite of my late father was “Bonanza,” the story of a wealthy rancher and his three sons who tended the ranch while laying down rules drawn from the Good Book.
Another adult Western was “Rawhide,” with cowboys Rowdy Yates (played by Clint Eastwood) and Gil Favor driving the herd across the plains.
The show’s theme song, sung by Frankie Lane, started with the words “rolling, rolling, rolling. Though the streams are swollen. Keep them doggies moving. Rawhide …”
One of the wonderful aspects of cable television is that some stations rerun old television programs. Since the pandemic, I have been watching old episodes of “Gunsmoke” and enjoying the heck out them. I’m sure that a whole new audience has discovered this high quality Western featuring characters such as Miss Kitty, Doc Adams, Festus and Chester and, of course, Marshal Dillon.
Even the “Gunsmoke” theme music is appealing, and each time I hear it I picture in my mind my dear late father sitting in his easy chair, looking forward to his favorite cowboy show. Of course, part of that memory of Dad is standing on the roof of our little house on Center Street in New Castle, Pa., turning the TV antenna by hand to get the best possible picture.
“Is it better now?” he would ask us as we watched the television. “Or was it better before?”