Comment on Glen Campbell: Wiliam Tell Overture

 

Glen Campbell: Wiliam Tell Overture

I was a child of the Baby Boom. The 1950s were dominated by Westerns, whether they were Saturday morning Westerns intended for kids, or were "adult westerns" carried by the major networks at night. If memory serves me, at one point there were 30 different Western TV shows broadcast by the major networks over the course of the week. America was Western crazy.

As a young lad who was born in a little crossroads Southern town, nothing captured the imagination of my brothers and me than the Lone Ranger. Clayton Moore was a god-like figure to us. On Saturday morning, the sound of the first few notes of the "William Tell Overture" was sufficient to cause me and my brothers to run headlong to the living room and to slide to a halt in front of the TV as if we were sliding into home plate at Yankee Stadium. What followed on the screen enthralled us as we travelled back to "those thrilling days of yesteryear." (I understand that the “Lone Ranger” was an ABC program. This confuses me, because we couldn’t even pick up an ABC affiliate TV station.)

In 1956, my dad obtained a new job, and our family moved to "the big city." It was around 1958 when a major new suburban shopping center opened. As if it were a gift from heaven, Clayton Moore was to appear there to do the ribbon cutting. To a kid like me, this was bigger than the Second Coming.

My dad took me and my oldest brother (and possibly a younger brother) to the event. I remember nothing about it except for the fact that I was suddenly standing within two feet of Clayton Moore, himself. I was in the presence of greatness. It simply didn’t get any better than this.

There in front of me at eye-level was the heavy black holster and gun belt and, of course (gasp!), his silver bullets. I gazed up in absolute adoration of the masked man.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through my brain. I could actually touch the Lone Ranger. I could reach out and, with my index finger, touch his thigh. I could then tell everyone that I, little old me, had actually touched the Lone Ranger! I could forever bask in the reflected glory of the Lone Ranger and be admired and envied by all of my friends.

But then, reality set in. Someone might see me do this, most likely my dad, but, horrors, possibly the Lone Ranger, himself. A rebuke might follow.

So, I lost my nerve and did nothing.

Who knows how my life might have changed if I had chosen a different fork in the road? If only I had summoned the courage to touch the Lone Ranger, might I have entered the pantheon of heroes who, in some small way shared his glory? Would I have captured the evil Butch Cavendish? Commanded a division in Desert Storm? Found a cure for cancer? Discovered time travel?

It will be one of the great mysteries of life, and I will never know. 😊

In any event, here’s to you, Clayton Moore, and those fond boyhood memories. “Hi-Yo, Silver! Away!”

~~ Survivormann99