Showing posts with label Our Gang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Our Gang. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Special Guest Star: Robert Blake

 

It's been my inclination to always-or almost always-root for the underdog my entire life, perhaps because I can relate or the empathy I happen to feel for the individual. For the late Robert Blake, it was the latter. Sure, he had a show business career that spanned well over the half-century mark, earning Prime Time Emmy and Golden Globe awards along the way as the star of hit TV series and working with such iconic directors as John Huston, Richard Brooks, Hal Ashby, George Stevens and David Lynch. 

None of that really mattered in that end, for when he died this past year, most headlines read:

ROBERT BLAKE 'BARETTA' STAR ACQUITTED OF WIFE'S MURDER, DIES AT 89

So there's that too. 

I have no idea if Blake was guilty of the crimes he had been accused of relating to this case. This was the highest profile Tinseltown murder case that came down the pike post O.J. which the world at large had still not gotten over, but still seemed to have the blood lust enough to hash it out ad infinitum and nauseam for that matter. Therefore, I begged off on the judgment call, though I have a few opinions of my own that I'll keep to myself. 

I do know that Blake was one messed up individual having gone through alleged abuse by his parents, even while he was bringing home the bacon as a child actor in the final leg of the Our Gang comedy shorts at MGM and as sidekick Little Beaver in a slew of Red Ryder westerns. He survived drug addiction in the Fifties, dealing with every more demons. Television roles kept him employed until he landed a role, usually noted his very best, in Brooks' adaptation of IN COLD BLOOD. Stardom still eluded him until he landed the lead as BARETTA, the cop show that lasted four seasons in the mid 70s. 

During this period, he became a frequent guest on THE TONIGHT SHOW. Johnny Carson had a way with the volatile Blake, getting him to open up about his life to a superficial degree, allowing to be a rather entertaining raconteur about old time show biz and life in general. Carson gave him an outlet he never had before and Blake seemed to have the time of his life and less of a tormented soul, making several appearances over time. 

Following the end of BARETTA, he tried to kick start his film career again. One vehicle brought Robert Blake to my hometown of Stockton, California. The movie was COAST TO COAST, a riff on IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT with Dyan Cannon in the Claudette Colbert role with Blake as Gable, I suppose, in the guise of a trucker, a nod to the SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT crowd. Since this was a road movie, it had been shot on several locations, many to mimic other parts of the country with downtown Stockton standing in for what I think was somewhere in the Midwest (Kansas City, according to IMDB).

KFMR radio station (which eventually became FM 100) had only recently debuted on San Joaquin County airwaves during this period. I had been longtime friends and former employee of the owners, Bob and Sue Carson  and had an idea to score a coup for the station. So I grabbed my cassette tape recorder and headed downtown to the set of COAST TO COAST in the hope that I could get the one and only Robert Blake to give a station ID for KFMR.

My friend Bill Humphreys and myself parked out by where the stars trailers and fabled Honey Wagons had been circled. Security was pretty much lax in those days, so I felt I would have no problem accomplishing the task at hand. It was long before shooting wrapped on the set and the actors returned to their portable sanctuaries. Dyan Cannon was first one out of the shoot, but I didn't even consider asking her as well. I would have made a complete fool of myself, probably more so than I usually did with women who weren't movie stars.

Robert Blake followed not long after and off I went. With the arrogance of youth on my side and no trace of a brain in my whole head, I had no qualms approaching this reportedly volatile Hollywood star and imposing on his valuable time just to get his voice on my cheap-ass cassette. He could have brushed me away like a mosquito or barked his disapproval, making me pee my pants and dash away with my tail between my legs all the way home.

I'll damned if he didn't comply. Maybe addressing him as "Mr. Blake" helped. I didn't give him any copy to read, just basically told him what to say. "This is Robert Blake and you're listening to KFMR."

He repeated, sort of. "This is Robert Blake and you're listening to...what?"

"KFMR."

"This is Robert Blake and you're listening to KRFM."

"No, KFMR."

"This is Robert Blake and you're...what?"

"This is Robert Blake. You know that part already."

"This is Robert Blake..."

"...and you're listening to KFMR.."

"...and you're listening to KMFR."

"KFMR."

"This is Robert Blake and you're listening to KFMR." 

He done did it. Graciously. Putting up with my wise ass self and not throwing my cassette recorder to the ground and stomping on it. Or me. I thanked him profusely and away we went in opposite directions. Maybe he had all along and was simply messing with me. Whatever the reason might have been, whether he was in a good place at the time or he was a consummate professional who dealt with the public the way he would like to be treated himself, even by the likes of a smart of a Stockton bumpkin like myself. 

That entire exchange ran on the station verbatim and it became my one and contribution to KFMR. An edited version without me also popped up between songs until both versions disappeared entirely when the station was re-branded as FM 100.

COAST TO COAST didn't fare very well at the box office or critics and after a couple of other misfires, Blake returned to television where he found his greatest success. At the turn of the 21st century, his
career was over and out, as was he, initially convicted and eventually acquitted for his wife's murder. The demons that chased him his entire life finally got the best and worst of him. When he died in the first part of 2023, an unfortunate punctuation to Robert Blake occurred due to his exclusion to the In Memoriam section of the Oscars only a few days later with no thanks to Jimmy Kimmel and a bad joke that has no business being repeated, at least by me. 

The point of the story? Merely another close encounter of the celebrity kind, a brush with someone famous who ended up, unfortunately and probably inevitably, infamous. I feel fortunate I was able to catch him in his prime time so that the memory I carry has a positive ring to it as opposed to what happened later when his life and career were over-powered by a horrific turn of events that would dictate his legacy from that point on. Such is the fragility of fame.