Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: A Winner In The Football Pool.

 

ChatGPT
Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: The Underage Winner and the Press Club Extravaganza"

Embark with me, dear readers, on a journey back to the early days of my tenure at CFPL TV, where luck, laughter, and a touch of unexpected hilarity awaited. This is the tale of the 50-cent football pool, a jackpot, and an underage winner's memorable escapade at the renowned London City Press Club.

It was a regular day in the bustling world of London Free Press Printing Ltd., and the allure of the 50-cent football pool lingered in the air. The jackpot, a staggering $100, stood like a monolith against my modest $85 weekly paycheck. The prize was open to all employees, weaving a thread of anticipation through the TV station, AM and FM radio stations, and the newspaper.

I contemplated the prize.

Miraculously, fate smiled upon me, and I clinched the coveted jackpot ticket after only a few months on the job. Ecstatic at my stroke of luck, I learned that claiming the winnings meant a pilgrimage to the London City Press Club, nestled across from the newspaper building on York Street.

Eager to revel in my newfound fortune, I stepped into the Press Club and sought out Fred Mueller, the bar steward. "Congratulations! It's customary for the winner to buy a round," Fred declared, unveiling an unexpected twist to my victory. Inwardly, I mused, "If only I had known, I might have chosen a less bustling time!"

I won a hundred and spent it all on my first visit.

The club buzzed with activity, featuring familiar faces like Dell Bell, the diligent reporter; Merle Tingley, the witty cartoonist; Hugh Bremner, the seasoned newsman; Dean Chevalier, the charismatic on-air announcer; The Spoiler, the audioman from CFPL TV; Bill Maguire, the ever-curious reporter, and a host of others.

As the round unfolded, $50 of my newfound fortune vanished, leaving me with a mere $50. However, Fred had another proposition – membership to the club for $35. Overwhelmed by the allure of exclusive access, I willingly parted with a chunk of my winnings, leaving a meager $15 in my pocket.

Undeterred by the dwindling dollars, the club experience was worth every penny. But here's the kicker – my newfound membership granted me access to any Press Club in North America, without the pesky need for identification. Imagine, an underage adventurer traversing Press Clubs with a ticket to merriment and no questions asked.

In the end, my jackpot dwindled to a fraction of its initial glory, but the memories forged in the London City Press Club became priceless. The Press Club escapade became a legendary chapter in the CFPL TV Chronicles, where laughter, camaraderie, and the unexpected unfolded with every turn of the jackpot wheel.

Join me in the next installment, dear readers, as we unravel more tales from the golden days of CFPL TV, where every victory, no matter how modest, sparkled with the brilliance of shared joy and a touch of youthful exuberance.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: Up in Smoke.

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Up in Smoke - The Baron's Olfactory Odyssey of the 60s"

Dear readers, let's embark on a comical journey back to the 60s, a time when smoke wafted through the TV studio like a mischievous spirit, leaving behind a trail of pungency that would make even the most seasoned smokers wince. In this hilariously aromatic chapter of the CFPL TV Chronicles, we delve into the smoky escapades of yesteryear, both on and off camera.

Enter the enigmatic Baron, not a nobleman with a crown, but the lighting maestro of the studio, armed with a stinky cigar that could rival the most daring olfactory adventures. As a former cigarette smoker, I thought I had conquered the realm of smoke-induced discomfort, but The Baron's cigar proved to be a formidable foe, a fragrant force to be reckoned with.

The TV studio, a creative hive where lights gleamed, cameras rolled, and a cloud of smoke became an unintentional special effect. The Baron, with his trusty stogie, painted the air with a scent that lingered like an offbeat symphony note, creating a sensory experience that was both memorable and, at times, challenging for the nostrils.

Off-camera, the smoking saga continued, unfolding in break rooms and behind-the-scenes nooks where crew members and personalities alike indulged in the ritualistic puffing that was as much a part of the culture as the coffee breaks. Conversations were interspersed with swirls of smoke, adding a surreal touch to the studio ambiance.

A.I. representation of Tom Daley

In the 60s, smoking wasn't just a personal choice; it was an atmospheric element that seasoned the air with an unmistakable fragrance. The Baron's pungent cigar became a legendary character in the unfolding drama of the TV studio, leaving an indelible mark on the olfactory memories of those who shared the set.

As we chuckle at the whimsicality of a workplace infused with smoke, let's also appreciate the evolution of times. In today's smoke-free environments, the notion of a stinky cigar in the studio feels like a relic from a bygone era, a fragrant footnote in the grand story of CFPL TV.

So, dear readers, let's tip our metaphorical hats to The Baron's smoky legacy and the aromatic anecdotes that add a touch of humor to the CFPL TV Chronicles. Join me in the next installment, where we'll unearth more quirky tales from the vibrant and occasionally aromatic world of CFPL TV's past.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: Walter J. Blackburn's Festive Parade

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Walter J. Blackburn's Festive Parade - Turkey Coupons and Cigars Galore"

As the holiday season descended upon CFPL TV, there was a tradition unlike any other, a whimsical spectacle that transformed the station into a festive carnival. Walter J. Blackburn, the quiet-spoken station owner, emerged as the maestro of this yuletide extravaganza, orchestrating a parade that brought joy, laughter, and unexpected surprises to the entire CFPL family.

Imagine a bustling TV station, adorned with tinsel and twinkling lights, the air tinged with the scent of anticipation and the remnants of The Baron's pungent cigars. In the midst of this seasonal symphony, Mr. Blackburn, with an unusual twinkle in his eye and a bundle of goodies in hand, began his festive journey through the station.

The crew, engrossed in their behind-the-scenes escapades, always watched in awe as the station owner slowly paraded through the studio itself, weaving through cameras and lighting rigs. Turkey coupons and cigars for the men and candies for the ladies were his gifts of choice, a gesture that reflected the heartwarming and occasionally aromatic spirit of the season.

The Baron, with his affinity for stinky cigars, couldn't help but chuckle as he received his festive cigar, adding another layer of fragrance to the already spirited atmosphere. Teddy Hart, the camera trainee, shared a knowing glance with his fellow crew members, realizing that this annual parade had become a cherished tradition, complete with unexpected surprises.

As the parade continued, Mary C., our favourite copywriting steno, exchanged a festive nod with Dale D., affectionately known as Duffy. The echoes of Cookie's laughter, the man behind fanciful crew nicknames, reverberated through the studio as Walter Blackburn's festive procession brought a touch of merriment to each corner of CFPL TV.

In this festive chapter of the CFPL TV Chronicles, Mr. Blackburn's turkey coupons, candies and cigars became not just gifts but symbols of camaraderie and the unique tapestry that defined the station's holiday celebrations. The parade, like a spirited dance through the years, left an indelible mark on the memories of those who were fortunate enough to witness its joyous charm.

So, dear readers, as we raise a metaphorical toast to Walter J. Blackburn's festive parade, let's savor the laughter, the camaraderie, and the fragrant notes of The Baron's imposing cigars that made each holiday season at CFPL TV a truly unforgettable experience. Join me in the next installment, where we'll unwrap more tales from the vibrant and occasionally aromatic world of CFPL TV's past.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.

CFPL TV Chronicles: Some Dry English Humour...

 

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Day Joe Armstrong Brought the Laughter to Dry Cleaning.

Ahoy, dear readers, and welcome to another side-splitting chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where the backstage shenanigans of the studio crew take center stage. Today's rib-tickling tale revolves around Joe Armstrong, a man whose voice had a charm of its own and an inadvertent penchant for turning "shirt" into something a tad less sophisticated. I think cameraman Don Mortenson (Mort) may have told me this story.

Back in the days when local TV ads were the bread and butter of CFPL TV, Joe, a member of the advertising department, occasionally lent his British-accented voice to various commercials. It was all smooth sailing until one fateful day, Joe found himself banned from doing dry cleaner ads – and the reason was as unexpected as it was uproarious.

Enter McNamara Dry Cleaners in London, a local establishment that sought to promote their services with a touch of class. Joe, with his British charm, seemed like the perfect fit for the job. Little did the good folks at McNamara's anticipate the linguistic quirk that would unfold during the recording session.

As Joe read through the script, everything seemed perfectly ordinary until he hit the word "shirt." In Joe's eloquent British accent, the innocuous garment became a source of unintended hilarity. To the audience's amusement and the sponsor's dismay, the word "shirt" sounded suspiciously close to another four-letter word that we won't mention here.

Picture the ad: "This week at McNamara's Cleaners, London's One-Hour dry cleaner, bring us your suits and... you'll get the sh*ts just for coming in. This month only, the sh*ts are on us." It was a comedic twist that left the recording room in stitches, but McNamara's, understandably, did not find the humor in the unexpected verbal acrobatics.

The fallout was swift, and Joe Armstrong received a friendly request – or perhaps a plea – to abstain from voicing those particular commercials. The unintentional comedic gem had inadvertently given McNamara's a unique selling point that they weren't quite ready to embrace.

And so, Joe's career as the voice of McNamara's dry cleaning adventures came to an abrupt end. Yet, the tale lives on as one of the many hilarious anecdotes that color the vibrant history of CFPL TV. Join me in the next installment of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll unravel more tales of laughter, camaraderie, and the unexpected moments that made CFPL a place where even dry cleaning ads had their own dose of wit and whimsy.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.

I wonder what Joe et. al. would think of this new A.I.. Hahaha! I put this in and it came back in less than 6 seconds:

Tim

Write me a 30 second commercial for McNamara's Dry Cleaners, in London Ontario. Home pickup and delivery available. Mention the shirt special for the month of January. Bring in your suit for dry cleaning and get the shirt laundered free.

ChatGPT

[Upbeat music playing]

🎙️ "Attention Londoners! Looking for top-notch dry cleaning with a touch of convenience? Visit McNamara Dry Cleaners in London! We offer home pickup and delivery, making your life a breeze. And here's a January exclusive: bring in your suit for dry cleaning, and we'll launder your shirt for free! Yes, that's right – a free shirt with every suit! Trust McNamara's Dry Cleaners for quality and convenience. Don't miss out! Visit us today. McNamara Dry Cleaners – where your clothes get the care they deserve!" 

🧥🌟 Fade music...

Good but make it 60 seconds.

ChatGPT
[Upbeat music playing]

🎙️ "Hey Londoners, listen up! Do you want your clothes to look as good as the day you bought them? Head over to McNamara Dry Cleaners – your one-stop solution for top-notch dry cleaning. What sets us apart? We bring the service to you with our home pickup and delivery options, making your life hassle-free.

And here's the deal of the month for January! Bring in your suit for dry cleaning, and guess what? We'll launder your shirt absolutely FREE! Yes, you heard it right – a complimentary shirt with every suit. It's our way of saying thanks for choosing McNamara Dry Cleaners.

Our experienced team ensures your clothes get the care they deserve, leaving them fresh and flawless. Quality and convenience – that's our promise. Don't miss out on this exclusive January offer!

Visit us today or call us for home pickup and delivery. McNamara Dry Cleaners – where your clothes get the royal treatment! Because you deserve the best. See you soon!" 

🧥✨ Fade music...

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Tie Us Up Bill

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: A Sea Pig Adventure – A Premier Encounter"

Dear readers, welcome to the latest installment of CFPL TV Chronicles, where the tapestry of my past at CFPL TV unfolds in a series of magical and coincidental moments. Today's narrative takes us back to the sometimes tranquil waters of Georgian Bay, where the Sea Pig and the my wife's family boat set the stage for an unexpected encounter with none other than Mr. William Davis, the Provincial Premier.

In the early '70s, post my nuptials with my wonderful Wendy in 1972, our lives were intertwined with the colorful characters from my CFPL TV days. The Sea Pig, our quirky homemade pontoon cottage boat, became the floating haven for countless adventures. However, the true stars of this particular tale are Howard and Gene, Wendy's parents, and their boat, originally from Grand Bend, stationed in Port Severn.

Robbie's wife Hazel and Wendy's mom Gene share the day on Howard's Alcan houseboat.

The summer of around 1974 found us navigating the pristine waters of Georgian Bay, in the company of Glen Robitaille (Robbie), his wife Hazel, (next-door neighbours to Howard and Gene in London, ON) and the former CFPL TV News anchor, Hugh Bremner in Robbie's day boat. Our destination was the mysterious Boatel – a 'motel' accessible only by boat, adding an extra layer of adventure to our maritime journey.

A.I and I re-created this portrait of Hugh Bremner. 

As we approached the Boatel's dock, the unexpected sight of Premier Davis, unshaven and embodying a casual vacation mode, greeted us. In a surreal twist of fate, we threw a line to 'Bill', who graciously helped secure our boats. It was a moment where the leader of the province played the role of a marina attendant, and our boats, including Howard and Gene's found a unique parking spot under the Premier's watchful gaze. We knew he had a cottage somewhere nearby because he flew over us occasionally in his sea plane commuting from Toronto Island.

Robbie, Hazel, and Hugh seemed nonchalant, as if rubbing shoulders with a Premier at a remote 'motel' was just another day in the Bay. For the rest of us, it was an encounter with unexpected celebrity that left an indelible mark.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow on Georgian Bay, I marveled at the unexpected connections that linked my CFPL TV days to this unique maritime meeting. In retrospect, I wished I had captured more pictures to freeze-frame the day when our boats, including the Taleski family vessel, shared the stage with the head of the province at the Boatel.

Join me in the next chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll dive into more tales of serendipity, laughter, and the extraordinary moments that wove together my journey at the television studio.

My dad waving from the Sea Pig at Giant's Tomb Island circa 1980.

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CFPL TV Chronicles: Bathroom Break Blues

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Bathroom Break Blues – When Little Rascals Meet the Station Manager"

Hold onto your laughter, folks, as we venture into the next uproarious chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles – a tale that involves bathroom breaks, little rascals, and an unexpected encounter with the station manager, Murray Brown!

As part of my duties during the taping of Sunshine School, I found myself playing the role of the bathroom break wrangler. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent task would lead to a bathroom escapade of epic proportions.

Picture this: It was half-time during the show, and I was in charge of shepherding the little boys to their much-needed bathroom break. Now, as fate would have it, the station manager, Murray Brown, decided it was the perfect time for his own little break. Armed with a magazine and blissfully unaware of the impending chaos, he entered one of the toilet stalls.

Unbeknownst to me, one of the little rascals had hatched a mischievous plan. In a bold move, the daring youngster crawled under the cubicle wall, aiming for Mr. Brown's stall. The poor kid got more than he bargained for – a swift boot and an unintended flight across the shiny washroom floor, leaving a skid mark of embarrassment in his wake.

In a split second, the bathroom turned into a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy. Realizing the gravity of the situation, I sprang into action. Panic set in as I rounded up the remaining little rascals, their innocent faces blissfully unaware of the chaos they had caused. It was a covert operation to evacuate the scene before the occupant could identify the ringleader – a task that required ninja-like precision and a bit of luck.

In the aftermath, my embarrassment knew no bounds. The incident had become the stuff of legends, whispered about in the hallowed halls of CFPL. I even made a mental note to avoid eye contact with Murray Brown for the foreseeable future, opting for stealthy detours whenever our paths might cross.

As I reflect on this bathroom break fiasco, the echoes of laughter linger, and the memory of the little rascal's unexpected skid across the floor remains etched in CFPL lore. Join me in the next installment of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll continue to unravel the tales of mischief, camaraderie, and the unpredictable moments that made CFPL a place where every corner held the potential for laughter and unexpected adventures.

MURRAY T. BROWN

MURRAY T. BROWN, (article 1969) - 51, whose association with CFPL Broadcasting Co. Ltd., London, Ont. totals almost a quarter of a century, and who quietly climbed the ladder from part-time announcer to top -rung executive, has been named president of the company. The appointment, announced by Walter J. Blackburn, chairman of the board, became effective December 17. Born in Kitchener, Ont., Brown was educated in Amherstburg and Toronto, and in 1936 started as a clerk with the Confederation Life Association. Two years later he became a salesman for Moore Business Forms. His interest in radio brought him into contact with CFPL where he began as a part-time announcer. In 1945 he became commercial manager, and in 1949 was named station manager, CFPL AM -FM. When CFPL-TV was launched in 1953, Brown was given the responsi- bility for managing that station, in addition to his duties with the AM -FM outlets. Three years later, he was named general manager of the electronics division of London Free Press Printing Co. Ltd., and became vice-president and general manager of broadcasting in 1966. Brown is also president of Chatham Cable Ltd., was president of the Central Canada Broadcasters Association in 1952, and of the Canadian Association of Broadcasters in 1960- 61. 

CFPL TV Chronicles: Tyrone Shoelace at Sunshine School

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Laughter, Puppets, and the Adventures of Mr. Tim"

As we continue our romp through the whimsical world of CFPL TV Chronicles, I find myself at the heart of Sunshine School, a delightful weekday children's show that became the stage for laughter, puppetry, and the occasional splash of chaos.

In my dual role as properties man and floor manager, every live or videotaped performance was my front-row seat to the magical world of Sunshine School. As the video tape rolled, I would announce the tag with flair, "Sunshine School, September 15th, part one, see the schedule, ten from now..." accompanied by a theatric countdown to cue the lively online personalities.

One of the show's highlights was a puppet named Tyrone, the talking boot. His full name, the illustrious Tyrone Shoelace, brought joy and giggles to the young audience. Frank Proctor lent his voice to Tyrone, while I often operated the levers that brought the puppet to life. Tyrone's segments were filled with happy birthday announcements and updates on who had mastered the art of tying their shoes. Occasionally, I stepped into the limelight as Mr. Tim, showcasing my bubble-blowing expertise in a gigantic bowl of water, much to the delight of the young viewers.

Now, TV personalities are known for their flawless appearance, thanks to makeup. When water threatened to wash away the carefully applied layers, I was called to be an 'extra.' As Mr. Tim, I demonstrated the fine art of submerged face-bubbling, showcasing my willingness to go the extra mile, or should I say, bubble?

But the antics didn't stop there. On occasion, I transformed into "the Ugly Old Troll," uttering the famous line, "Who's dat on my bridge?" to the amusement of the young ones.

Sunshine School wasn't just a show; it was a vibrant cast of characters. Miss Dorothy (Dorothy Cooper) played the kind-hearted kindergarten teacher, Mr. Hoolihan (Frank Proctor) the comical Irish janitor, and Miss Phylis on piano, tickling the ivories with a playful tune. Each episode featured 15 or twenty boys and girls from the London Ontario viewing area, handpicked to join in the fun.

Fred G. on camera

And behind the scenes, crew members occasionally made cameo appearances. Why? Because we were a family, weaving our personalities into the fabric of Sunshine School. The mastermind behind the madness? Peter Nott (Ned) and his wife Bea Nott, steering the ship as producer and director, ensuring that every episode was a delightful romp through the whimsical corridors of children's television.

As we wrap up this lighthearted glimpse into Sunshine School, join me in the next chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll continue our journey through the playful corridors of television history, one puppet, bubble, and laughter-filled episode at a time.

CFPL TV Chronicles: My Intro to the "Liquid Lunch"

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Liquid Laughter at Lunch – A Tale from the Taverns"

Welcome back to CFPL TV Chronicles, where we embark on a spirited journey down the lanes of nostalgia. Today, let's pull up a stool at the watering holes that became our daytime haunts, as we indulge in the merriment of long lunches that transcended the clock.

In the heyday of the day shift, lunch breaks were not just a pause in the day; they were a boisterous adventure into the heart of London's favorite taverns. Now, for a 19-year-old like myself, a couple of years shy of the legal drinking age, these escapades were an extra dash of forbidden fun. Picture this: The sun shining on the pavement, a group of mischievous grins, and the prospect of a few cold ones at lunch. The allure of sharing a drink with a director, a key player in the intricate dance of television production, meant our lunch breaks could stretch a bit longer. After all, what's a production without its director?

Out with The Cat (John M.), or Zome (John S.), and an entourage of crew members like Cookie, Ted, Fred Gracey, The Spoiler (John G.), Sudsy (Jim S.), or the Professor (Paul E.), every lunch promised a merry escapade. The venue, often a tough choice among the El Morocco Tavern on Wharncliffe Rd., the Ridout Tavern on Ridout, or the Wellington House at Bathurst and Wellington Sts.

Let's paint a vivid scene at the El Morocco Tavern: The air buzzing with laughter, pints clinking, and the hum of camaraderie echoing through the pub. The director, unfazed by the ticking clock, engaged in animated discussions with the crew. Cookie, the master storyteller, spun tales that sent us into fits of laughter. The Spoiler, living up to his name, dropped hints of upcoming episodes with a sly grin.

The Ridout Tavern 2003 just before it was torn down 2004.

As the pints emptied and stories flowed, the tavern transformed into a haven of laughter and inside jokes. Perhaps a few extra minutes were spent strategizing the next shot, but who's counting when creativity is on tap?

And so, these liquid lunches became the stuff of legend—more than just a break, they were a vibrant interlude in the rhythm of our workday. Join me in the next chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll explore more tales from the taverns, each sip a memory, and every laugh a testament to the bond that turned colleagues into comrades during the golden era of CFPL television.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.

CFPL TV Chronicles: Nicknames

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: The Nickname Extravaganza – A Comedy of Characters"

In the uproarious world of CFPL TV Chronicles, let's dive into the riotous introductions to the eclectic crewmembers that populated the station during my early days. Among this vibrant cast was a man with a wit as sharp as his storytelling skills – the legendary Cookie. He wasn't just a crew member; he was the maestro behind the fanciful nicknames that turned our workplace into a comedy stage.

As I shook hands and swapped laughs with the team, it became apparent that each member had been gifted a moniker by the comedic genius, Cookie. Surprisingly, Ted and I managed to dodge the nickname roulette, but the rest of the crew wore their labels with pride. Here's a glimpse into the hilariously creative world of CFPL nicknames, as best I can remember, with a nod to Mary G. and John M. for the memory jog:

Bill C. (camera), the Culligan man himself, became 'Cookie.'

Dale D. (manager) donned the mantle of 'Duffy.'

Dan McC., (on air talent) dubbed 'Golden Balls.'

Don G. (VTR/telecine) embraced the simplicity of 'The Editor.'

Don G. (on-air talent) earned the moniker 'Smacky.'

Don M. (camera) was affectionately known as 'Mort.'

Don S. (lighting) danced through life as 'Scrammy.'

Eric B., (lighting) regally titled 'Baron.'

Gary S. (on-air sports) answered to the lively 'Smitty.'

Henry S. (VTR/telecine) proudly sported 'Hier Schack.'

Jim B. (VTR/telecine) became the one and only 'Baver.'

Jim S. (camera), a.k.a. 'Sudsy.'

John M. (director) took on the mysterious persona of 'Cat.'

John S., (director) the endearing 'Zome.'

Lawrence T., (prop shop) forever 'Lawrence of Orillia.'

Paul E. (camera) assumed the scholarly role of 'the Professor.'

'Scotty' A. (props), our seasoned mentor.

Glen Robitaille (engineering), affectionately called 'Robbie.'

John G., (audio) the regal 'Spoiler.' 

Tom Bird (on-air weatherman) soared high as 'Birdy.'

Bob White (promotion), forever 'Whitey.'

Pete James, (on-air sports)the sporty 'Sport.'

Cliff W. dazzled as 'the Dancer.'

Gran Rouge (Big Red) (director) Bob Peel held onto his regal title.

Ron Laidlaw, (news director) known far and wide as 'Sprockets.'

Mike Woodward, (producer) the enthusiastic 'Wahoo.'

These nicknames weren't just labels; they were a comedy of characters, each one carrying a story and a smile. Join me in the next chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll unravel the comedic tales behind some of the monikers and discover the unique personalities that turned our workplace into a laughter-filled haven. It was a time when every nickname told a story of camaraderie, and Cookie's creativity knew no bounds in the golden age of CFPL television.

CFPL TV Chronicles: The Cars of CFPL TV in the Sixties

 

CFPL TV Chronicles: The Roar of Engines and the Hum of Honda's Heyday.

In the latest installment of CFPL TV Chronicles, let's take a joyride down memory lane as we explore the world of wheels that spun up TV hill during the late sixties—a time when hot cars with big engines ruled the roads, and the increasing popularity of Honda motorcycles revolutionized the way we moved.

The late sixties marked the pinnacle of the hot car era, where engines roared with power and the streets were adorned with sleek machines. Amidst this automotive symphony, my own four-wheeled marvel stole the spotlight—a modified Morris Minor 1000 housing a Ford 282 V8. Pieced together from the remains of my old Morris and various junkyard treasures, it stood as the epitome of my automotive ingenuity. How did we live through this era?

You can read about this monstrosity  CLICK HERE

But I wasn't alone in my love affair with unconventional rides. Fred Gracey (camera) cruised in a Super Bee, Teddy Hart (camera) navigated the streets in a Chevelle SS 454, and The Baron (lighting) wowed with tales of the remarkable French Citroen with articulating headlights. Bob Rosso (camera/audio) and Wes Robitaille (props) chose the powerful Honda 750, becoming the kings of the road with their two-wheeled companions.

Yet, amidst the roar of engines and the sleek frames of hot cars, there was a touch of comicality. Enter Fred Woodley (telecine), mounted on his trusty Honda 50. He didn't own a car. Living near my house, Fred became a familiar sight in all weather conditions, his large frame perched atop the petite motorcycle, crowned by an oversized helmet. It was a sight both endearing and comical, a testament to the diverse array of wheels that rolled through the CFPL family.  I wondered, in later years when I used to listen to his radio show at CKOT Tillsonburg how he got there. (a 36 km drive) Did he ever get a car?

As we rev up our engines and cruise through the tales of CFPL TV Chronicles, join me in the next chapter, where the stories continue to unfold—rich with the rumble of engines, the wind in our hair, and the camaraderie that sprouted in the parking lots and garages of CFPL during the golden age of wheels.

CFPL TV Chronicles: MY NEW JOB

 

CFPL TV Chronicles: The Unlikely Job Interview and My Start in Props"

Continuing our journey through the corridors of CFPL TV, let's dive into the vivid memories of my job interview, a pivotal moment that set the stage for my time at the historic television station.

My entrance into the world of CFPL was anything but conventional. The man who conducted my interview, known affectionately as Duffy, was a character etched in disheveled charm and unpolished demeanor. Despite the seemingly unrelated questions thrown my way, there was an air of nonchalance as if he had already made up his mind.

As the interview unfolded, Duffy's candidness took me by surprise. By the time our conversation concluded, he uttered those two words that changed the trajectory of my career: "You're hired." The reason? My art school training, which he said earmarked me for a role in props. Little did I know, my soon-to-be lifelong friend, Ted, had also ventured into the world of CFPL, landing a job as a cameraman in training.

Teddy Hart on camera.

While my stint at CFPL lasted only a couple of years, Ted's journey in the world of television was destined for a lifelong affair. His path unfolded not just in London but stretched to Ottawa and later Toronto, where the screens bore witness to his skilled camerawork.

In the realm of props and the studio floor, my mentor was the seasoned CFPL veteran, Scotty Andrews. His guidance became the cornerstone of my early days, shaping my understanding of the intricate dance between creativity and functionality within the television production realm. Learning was easy because the entire studio crew helped me at every turn.

As we navigate the memories of those formative years at CFPL, join me in the next installment of CFPL TV Chronicles. Together, we'll unravel the tales of camaraderie, unexpected journeys, and the invaluable lessons learned under the watchful eye of characters like Duffy and mentors like Scotty. The story of CFPL is not just a broadcast legacy; it's a tapestry woven with the threads of diverse individuals who left an indelible mark on the history of television in London,