The Captain

Posted By: Peter DavidPosted On:

digresssmlOriginally published June 27, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1232

I remember the first and only time I saw him in person.

It was at the earliest point in my career… indeed, it was before I even had a career. At the time I was still considering the notion of trying to break into news writing. Obviously, it was long before I wound up with a career in fiction (although some reporters produce work which clearly falls into the category of fiction.) And I’d had a job interview at CBS News. The job basically involved sitting and transcribing news broadcast into hard copy. Someone’s got to do it, after all; you didn’t think that those transcriptions they’re always telling you that you can send away for wrote themselves, did you?

It was described to me as “entry level,” but as I asked around it seemed to me that a more appropriate description was “dead end.” It simply wasn’t something I could see going anywhere. I’d pretty much made up my mind that I wasn’t interested in it…which worked out fine, because as it happened, they didn’t offer it to me.

But I remember standing in the lobby, looking at some picture on the wall. My back was to the receptionist. And I heard her say, “Good night, Mr. Keeshan.”

And a voice as familiar to me as that of my own parents said, “Good night.”

I turned and there he was: the Captain. The Captain.

When Bob Keeshan was twenty eight years old, back in October of 1955 and just embarking on a series that would run nearly three decades, he had to wear make-up and a wig to put across the character of an avuncular, slightly befuddled, out-of-the-loop caretaker by the name of Captain Kangaroo.

Not anymore. He stood not three feet away from me and he looked exactly as he always had. Life imitated art.

I couldn’t say anything. My jaw was frozen. I just stared with what was no doubt an extremely doofy expression. What could I say? “Pleasure to meet you?” “I watched you every day when I was a kid?” “Thanks for reading me all those great stories?” “What’s Mr. Moose really like?” “What was the deal with Mr. Greenjeans, anyway, and was there a Mrs. Greenjeans?”

None of it. Just the tongue-tied, doofy expression.

And he looked at me and smiled gently, as he always did when he looked straight at me through the TV screen, and I had a feeling that he knew everything that was going through my head. He probably got it all the time.

He said, “Hi there.”

I nodded slightly and managed to articulate, “Hi.”

And then he was gone.

And now he’s gone again. Because Saban Entertainment, a soulless, gutless corporation… an outfit which fired three actors from the Power Rangers (whose likenesses were showing up on toys and dolls generating millions in revenue) because the actors asked to be paid–get this–scale (as opposed to the below-scale wages they were earning)… Saban Entertainment is producing 26 half-hour episodes of the show. One that will “contemporize the show and give it the sense and the look of a kids’ show in the ’90s,” according to spokesman Barry Stagg.

Gee, Barry, which kid’s show would that be? Reboot? Or Barney? The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest? Or The Magic School Bus? Wow, how about those hip, contemporary shows like Bananas in Pajamas or Shining Time Station? No, no, “It will be interactive, computer-related, high-tech with an MTV-style approach,” says Stagg.

No, Stagg. We have computers for that. We have MTV for that. What we had the Captain for was an oasis of quiet, of silliness, of… well… doofiness.

Saban blew off Bob Keeshan. Keeshan told the New York Daily News, “I didn’t think, and I still don’t think, they understand what this property is. They’re finding a Captain for the ’90s, but the Captain was cool because he wasn’t hip. They don’t know that. They can’t grasp that,” and went on to say, “The Captain made it because he talked to the minds and hearts of children. This is what made it great. This is what 200 million Americans remember of the Captain… I really think they believe that kids are different today than they were in the ’60s or ’70s. That’s nonsense. They’re still the same, still asking the same questions: ‘Who am I? Am I loved? What does the future hold for me?’”

Oh, they offered him a title of “Executive Producer,” but they balked when Keeshan said he was going to want to have the power of… well… executive producer. He wanted creative veto, the ability to say, “This piece of material is not appropriate to this audience and we’ll have to do it another way.” And Saban told him to forget it. Of course forget it. After all, what would Bob Keeshan know about children? About kid’s programming? About the character.

Stagg claimed, “We are making every effort to produce a quality series for kids which embodies the spirit, the tone and the respect for kids of the original.”

But why call it Captain Kangaroo, Barry? It ain’t him. No matter how sweet a guy the new “Captain” may be, or talented, or charming, he ain’t Captain Kangaroo. The name will have no meaning to kids today, and the parents to whom it does have meaning will just look at him and say, “But… that’s not the Captain.”

What’s next, I wonder? Is Diver Dan going to make it with the mermaid?

One could argue that that is simply the way of corporations. The way of heartlessness. The tendency to consider everyone and everything eminently disposable.

I think it comes from the fundamental arrogance of youth and the refusal to believe that anyone who is old can be vital or contributive. That and simple lack of gratitude. Keeshan’s character helped put children’s programming on the map. He created the franchise exploited by Saban now and CBS in the past, and neither of them gives a dámņ. I mean, October 23, 1995, was the forty year anniversary of the Captain’s first broadcast. Where was CBS? Where was the retrospective? Where was one lousy prime time special? A week of special programming? Something? Anything?

Nope. Dead silence from CBS. Why should they care? What’s Bob Keeshan done for them lately? What have they asked him to do?

It’s similar to the recent abomination perpetrated by the Village Voice. Jules Feiffer made his debut in the Voice nearly a year after Captain Kangaroo first showed up, jingling the keys to the Treasure House. For forty years, Jules Feiffer defined the Voice. He was the Voice, the single most identifiable aspect of the paper, and the years have done nothing to diminish his skill or bite.

And what did the Voice do to show their appreciation? How did they handle their mainstay? They offered him a seventy-five percent pay cut.

Let me say that again.

They offered him a seventy-five percent pay cut.

One more time, just in case you still can’t quite believe it: Forty year veteran. Pulitzer Prize winner in 1986. The voice of the Voice. Hey Jules: That dollar we gave you last week? Twenty five cents now. Take it or leave it.

He left it. That is not a shock.

What is shocking is that such an insult was offered in the first place. What is shocking is that the management of the Voice held Feiffer in such contempt that they dared to suggest it and act as if it was something other than a slap in the face.

The obvious question becomes, of course, what were they going to do with the money they wanted to take away from Feiffer? Well, according to Don Forst, editor of the Voice, they’re planning to use the salary to hire new cartoonists. Read: Young cartoonists. After all, if you guys at the Voice want someone with a track record, with a name, with clout, with experience, why… there’s always Jules Feiffer, you clods! So it’s not too much of a stretch to suppose that they’re going to go for young, new, hot talent at the expense of the old.

It is a pernicious world that we live in. An insane world. How in God’s name can people be biased against their seniors? Prejudice comes from one group despising another group, but old age is across the board. White man hates Black Man, Jewish Man hates Arab Man, and vice versa, but they’re all going to be old men (grumpy or not). The baseless stupidity of prejudice is bad enough, but this is stupidity squared.

I think of comic book conventions where people who are the true pioneers of the industry sit at tables, ignored by the vast majority of the fans. No interest in them whatsoever. While fans lionize the writers and artists who have done the latest rehashing and rethinking of characters (which will likely be tossed onto the scrap heap within a few years anyway when the new flavor-of-the-month comes along with his definitive version), those who actually created or shaped those characters and made them into the icons that fire the imagination to this day… those creators, well, you can hear crickets chirping in front of their tables.

It could be argued that fans of today don’t care about creators of yesterday. Fair enough. But they should care. They should make it a point of caring. When I was first getting into comics, I read everything I could about the history of the medium. I read Steranko’s History of Comics, two humongous volumes (humongous more in the physical dimensions than anything; they were oversized tabloids) with more promised that never materialized. I read The Great Comic Book Heroes by—guess who—Jules Feiffer.

But instead, in our society, it’s out with the old, in with the new. “This isn’t your father’s Oldsmobile,” proclaim the ads. Very likely. And I’ll never forget when I saw a car made in the 1950s go tooling past me one day on Northern Boulevard in Queens, and it had a sign in the back window that proudly claimed, “This is your father’s Oldsmobile!” And you know what? It was still running fine forty years after its manufacture, and it looked a dámņëd sight cooler than the latest models.

New is not necessarily better. Old is not necessarily evil. What is it about our society that automatically assumes that lack of experience is a good thing? Can we forget Ron Perelman and his cronies, marching into Marvel and stirring the same feelings in the industry that the residents of Pompeii must have felt when they noticed that Vesuvias didn’t look right that morning. And Perelman boasted in interviews that his greatest strength was his ignorance of the way things had been done before. He knew nothing and therefore couldn’t be bound by loyalties or the “old” way of doing things.

And boy, Ron showed us exactly how to get the job done, didn’t he.

Let me quote Voice publisher Don Schneiderman who, when presented with the notion of offering Feiffer a seventy-five percent cut, offered the following assessment to the press: “I said I had no problem with it.”

Don Forst and Don Schneiderman: A couple of Dons making an offer that had to be refused. It’s like a Bizarro Mafia.

Well, you know what, Don? I have a problem with it. I have a problem with Jules Feiffer being shunted aside as if his contributions meant nothing. And Saban and CBS–I have a problem with Bob Keeshan being shunted aside as if his contributions meant nothing. And I have a problem with comics greats being treated as if they were invisible.

It’s as if what is truly important is completely out of whack. Loyalty is non-existent. Appreciation is a joke. And the fact that to grow older is to become wiser in the ways of the world rather than more oblivious of them is a truth so simple that, like other obvious things such as “common sense,” it cannot be taken for granted.

It’s as if we’re animals, really. The old are assessed not on the basis of their intellect, but instead as if they were being judged on their ability to hunt. To provide food for the pack. And if they cannot do so anymore… if they cannot keep up with the pack… then the youngsters of the pack challenge them, knock them aside, banish them. Or predators catch up with them and tear them to shreds because that’s nature’s way. They have nothing more to offer.

Well, these days the predators wear fancy suits and expensive watches. They pronounce judgments based on dollars rather than sense, and snicker and smile confidently to themselves, shunting aside those who can help them in favor of those who will do as they’re told. And they are oblivious of the fact that, sooner or later, it’s going to be their turn. Secure and unaware of their own mortality, they live in a fool’s paradise. If their minds were open, the gentle captain might tell them a story about how such attitudes don’t pan out. Or the acerbic Feiffer could produce a cartoon that would cut to the bone.

But only their mouths were open, while their minds are closed. And those who are older, and wiser, and more talented than they will ever be, shake their heads in disbelief at how they’re not appreciated. And secure, at least, in the knowledge that–sooner or later–time gets us all.

Even the suits.

They’ll learn. They’ll learn. And they’ll try to tell the generation following them… and the irony is that no one will listen to them because, of course…

…the new guys know better.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

20 comments on “The Captain”

  1. I remember this column from when it originally ran.

    I agreed 100% then, and i agree 110% now.

  2. This reminds me of a time back around 1998. I was at Target Records in Westbury, NY, and the store had a signing/meet & greet for Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford, the leads of the band Squeeze. The two sat at a long table, in the middle, of the store, and NO ONE stopped to chat with them, or to get albums signed, or to hear what it was like when they began, or to inquire what they were up to now. These were two of the pioneers of the New Wave music movement of the ’80s, folks whose songs got (and still get) tons of radio play, the people who gave us “Tempted” and “Black Coffee in Bed” and “Pulling Mussels from a Shell,” and people just passed them by. (Me, I got a greatest hits cd signed by them for my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. And I told them how much I loved their music. I hope that helped a little.)

    1. I was at an I-Con in Long Island some years back. Ray Harryhausen had an hour long signing scheduled and I got there early to make sure I’d have a chance to get something signed.

      There was nobody there. Nobody. Well, Harryhausen and a couple of staffers and such. But there was no line. At all.

      I wound up talking to him for something like twenty minutes. He seemed grateful for the company. I was simply appalled.

      It was at that same con (perhaps a later edition) where Julie Schwartz was going to be doing a panel one morning about the silver age of DC comics. Turn out was non-existent.

      This is not a problem that’s gotten better over time; it’s gotten worse.

      PAD

      1. For me, it was Joe Kubert (and his wife) at a chain bookstore at the local mall. The manager of a small comic book store also worked at the chain, and he had arranged the signing. It was around the time of Fax from Sarajevo. I was pretty much it at the signing, which gave me time to lavish praise on his work and the work of his two sons, who were then at their peaks of popularity with Marvel. (The latter put a big smile on Joe’s face and his wife’s face. Proud parents both.) I got to keep the little cardboard standup for Fax, but I really wished more of the patrons had been at least a little curious about this amazing creator.

        Of course, it’s Paul McCartney’s birthday, and lately, as he gets awards, the dominant comment seems to be who is Paul McCartney? Stan Lee turns 90 at the end of the year, but take away his movie cameos and how many people know who he is?

        I’m glad that some of the Marvel and DC movies have put in DVD extras about the character creators, many of whom have not been highly visible for years.

        DC’s New 52 and Saban’s new Captain Kangaroo. Not saying they’re that similar, but compare and contrast…

      2. Nobody there for Harryhausen????? Inconceivable!

        I was at the recent Mad Monster party con in Charlotte and got to meet Ricou Browning, the man in the Creature from the Black Lagoon suit. He’s the last of the Universal monsters, the only one we cans till talk to and tell how much he meant to us. I think he had a good time. I always feel bad at cons like that when I see someone who doesn’t have the crowd that other, lesser talents do (and it’s not always easy to predict who will be the ones who get the attention.). It was awesome seeing Mary Woronov but she should have had a line of people stretching down the interstate.

    2. Sort of the opposite story:

      Many years ago, on my second (and last, so far) trip to England, on a package tour to attend Fairport Convention’s 1992 Cropredy Festival, the package kicked off with an evening dinner and music cruise on the Thames. Beside the performing artists (i think it Gregson & Collister that year) other music types with Fairport associations were on the cruise, mingling.

      One of them was Ian Matthews.

      He told the story of how he’d been living in Texas at one point, and, in a fire, he lost all of his records – particularly his copies of all of his own albums.

      So he went to a used-record store and found copies of most of them. He carried them up to the counter, and the kid working the register flipped through the stack, and said, “You must really like this guy.”

      He didn’t say anything, just handed over his Visa card.

      And the kid read the name on the card…

  3. “Just because something’s old doesn’t mean you throw it away.”
    attributed to Lt. Cmdr. G. LaForge.

  4. Upon reading this column, I flashed back on the RoboCop movie, which had a strong commentary on this issue with the “old guard” being pushed aside by the “new guard,” except that the “old guard,” embodied by Ronny Cox’s character, Ðìçk Jones, strikes back in a big way. This conflict was epitomized by the Men’s Room scene.

    *SPOILER WARNING FOR ROBOCOP 3*

    Sadly, the franchise was run into the ground with RoboCop 3 trying to be hip (including ninjas and a flying robocop) and for all ages (PG-13 rating). It appears Peter Weller (“RoboCop”) knew this was a sinking ship, as he refused to come back for the 3rd installment, and Nancy Allen (“Anne Lewis”) returned only if her character was killed off. The style and tone were completely lost.

    And yet, even as I write this, the “new guard” is rebooting RoboCop again. Time will tell whether this is a good or bad idea, although they have gathered a cast including Sam Jackson, Hugh Laurie, and Gary Oldman, who all have the talent to elevate material that is lacking, if that turns out to be the case (I’m not saying that it is, having not read a script, just commenting).

    I also find it interesting that one of the major trends in the entertainment world today is “rebooting,” where an original concept is redone with tips of the hat to what made the original good, but doing their own thing and only stealing (err, retaining) the parts they like. It used to be that the new guard would build upon what had gone before with a sequel, now they have to throw it out entirely and redo it so it is “theirs.”

  5. Peter, I know the exact feeling you had when you met him. I saw him speak at a United Way breakfast in the late 90s. For an hour, you could hear a pin drop in the crowd. We were mesmerized by his brilliance and the eloquent way he made everything sound. After, I went up to shake his hand. He was (still is) one of my all-time heroes – Jim Henson, Walt Disney and Jed Clampett (yep, I went there) rolled into one. As we shook hands, I’m sure I was smiling like a goof. I sputtered, “You are the man.” but then recovered with, “Thanks for all you’ve done.” He smiled graciously and thanked me. I didn’t know CBS approached him about the terrible remake. Its failure is a great lesson for anyone who thinks they could recreate The Captain. Thanks for the great column. Steve

  6. One of my Christmas presents last December was a copy of a book (sadly out of print for some time) called “Saturday Morning TV” by Gary H. Grossman, who also wrote the wonderful “Superman from Serial to Cereal.” “SMTV” did a great job of covering its subject from the beginnings of commercial television to the mid-1980s, when the book was published. Though “Captain Kangaroo” was mostly a weekday program, it did get covered, along with such early programs as “Howdy Doody,” “Kukla, Fran, and Ollie,” “Sky King” (anyone remember that anymore?), “Fury” (what Peter Graves was known for before “Mission: Impossible”) and many more. It covers the parent-backlash against super-hero cartoons in the late 60s, and the pap that followed.

    If you’re my age (in spitting distance of 60), you can have fun just showing the cover to friends and seeing how many of the people on it they can identify.

    Since the book’s publication, partly due to the Fox TV network’s refusal to let parents groups tell they what they could and couldn’t air, and Steven Spielberg’s having the clout to produce cartoons the way he wanted to make them, the cartoons of today (mostly now on cable) have returned to what they were in the early part of televsion.

    If anyone has a chance to find this book on eBay, Amazon, or wherever, I can’t recommend it too highly.

  7. This subject makes me think of the story of “The Old Man and his Grandson”. It’s this very telling little fable out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Look it up if you don’t know it.

    Anyway, I’m happy to say that one of my proudest Albany-con moments was getting my Showcase Presents Metamorpo trade signed by the one and only Ramona Fradon. There weren’t a lot of people there, but it was late in the con and most people were probably getting ready to leave.

  8. Look what NBC just did to Sue Simmons. After 30 years, she just got a 30 second goodbye on her last show.
    Fifteen years ago I went to a book signing for Larry McMurtry, Pulitzer Prize for Lonesome Dove, author of Terms of Endearment, The Last Picture Show and countless others. There were only 5 of us there. I was able to talk to him for a few minutes, rather than one of those robo signings, but it was sad.

    1. Simmons deserves no sympathy..she kept coming to work more and more unprepared and screwed up pretty frequently these last few years..It’s like she stopped caring

  9. I was one of the Captain’s kids: too old for the Sesame Street generation and Fred Rogers, a little too young for Romper Room and Ding Dong School to have had an impact. Loved the man.

    My “what mad world?” experience was at San Diego in the early Nineties. It was the first summer of Image and the Image guys were the toast of the con. Lines for miles for signings – I know, because I had been in one getting some books signed for the young nephews of one of my colleagues at work. Later that day, i was wandering the rest of the Dealers Room and encountered, all by himself at a small indie publishers booth, Jack Kirby. I stopped, and thanked the gracious King for the decades of enjoyment he had given me, but didn’t linger to chat, as I was just too star-struck to strike up a lengthy conversation with a guy who stepped down from the Mount Rushmore of American comics. Stupid me. But what a contrast with the other end of the hall, where the Flavor of the Month guys were inundated with fans.

  10. Though I have seen numerous examples and of varying degrees, the one incident that flabbergasts me was when I was at Wizard Philly one year covering it and I went to Artist’s Alley and saw Martin Nodell, the man who created Green Lantern. Okay, the Golden Age Green Lantern to be specific, and he looked so elderly and tired and VIRTUALLY NO ONE WAS AT HIS TABLE. I was in shock. I understand cons have to promote the “hot guysbut wouldn’t it be a draw to some people to see the man responsible for creating DC’s – at absolute worst – fifth most popular hero, a character that has generated millions of dollars. But there was no promotion, because then DC may feel they needed to compensate him I guess. But he was still drawing and probably had a ton of stories to tell and likely had to pay for his own transportation and hotel room while those who sign their versions of his character and do sketches and are telling contemporary stories about him are whisked around and treated like Hollywood stars. I remember I asked for his e-mail and his son said he would work something out since Martin didn’t use e-mail but he would love to see hios dad get pub for the next Philly Con and I was going to do it and it that December he died.

  11. Peter,

    You couldn’t have said it better. I miss Mister Rogers and Captain Kangeroo. Nobody could ever replace them. Could it be that kids get into trouble because they have no role models like the Captain and Mr. Rogers? I’m 47 and I cried when Mr. Rogers passed away. The best memories of my two sons were watching Mister Rogers like I did.

  12. I went to a convention in San Antonio with various astronauts like Buzz Aldrin who was selling his autograph for $150.00 a pop. This does not discount Aldrin in any way.

    In another room Valentina Tereshkova,the first woman in space and Alexi Leonov, the first man to do a space walk, was one of the Russians in Apollo Soyuz mission. He would have been the first Russian to land on the moon. No one was at their tables. I could see American astronauts any time. It was the Russians I wanted to meet. I spent some time with Tereshkova and Leonov and they were the most charming people to spend time with. They were not as the the cold war depicted them. They were living history. Not that it mattered, but it was the best $50.00 I ever spent.

    Peter, you are right about this generation not appeciating these people that made history. Be it a writer or a cosmonaut, its a shame.

    I did meet one my favorite authors at a convention. We sang a song about Doctor Who. That was awesome!

  13. I don’t have a story–just an observation. Bob Keeshan may have been right in 1997, but kids really are different today that the ones that came before them. Most blame technology, but I suspect that being told by a couple of generations of marketing gurus that “kids are different today” became a self-fulfiling prophecy.

  14. At Wondercon 2010, I had the honor of meeting Joe Kubert. After learning that he would be doing a signing at 4pm, I said, “Mr. Kubert, you are the main reason I came to this convention… the women you draw are like Valkyrie warrior maidens and the characters you draw literally come to life on paper.” I had my picture taken with him. I was waiting in line for the 4pm signing (God bless Mr. Kubert for staying after 5pm for everyone in line with a smile and pen in hand.) When he saw me again, he said, “I was expecting you.” I said, “Well, Mr. Kubert, I feel like an honorary member of Easy Company after waiting in the line, for you are Sgt. Rock, and I must be Ice Cream Soldier because I am simply melting in your presence, sir.” 🙂

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