Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Legend of IYE

 CFPL TV Chronicles: The Legend of IYE

Gather around, everyone, because I have a tale for you. It’s a tale that captures the spirit of ingenuity, camaraderie, and downright silliness that made CFPL TV a special place back in the day. We’re diving into the archives to unearth the story of "IYE" or "In Your Ear," a show born out of sheer boredom and creativity.

It was the early 1970s, a time when the world was changing fast, but at CFPL TV, some things never changed. The studio crew, always a tight-knit bunch, found themselves with pockets of free time between scheduled programming. Instead of lounging around or catching up on sleep, they channeled their energy into something far more entertaining. That’s how "IYE" came to be.

Now, "IYE" wasn’t your typical TV show. It wasn’t planned or funded. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. But it did, and it was glorious. Director John Mahoney was the mastermind in the control room, piecing together the chaos into something that resembled a show. And oh, what a show it was!

Producer Jim Plant saw potential in the madness. He watched a few episodes and thought they were broadcast quality. He asked if they could make it a weekly thing. But Paul Estabrooks, one of the crew members, knew better. “Jim, we can’t generate that much material,” he’d said with a knowing smile. They all knew that the magic of "IYE" was in its spontaneity and was never intended for public viewing.

One particularly memorable episode featured The Baron, a character who could only have been dreamt up in the wild world of CFPL TV. The Baron decided to bring in some old war memorabilia one day, and not just any memorabilia—this included a full-on Hitler costume. The Baron, ever the performer, didn’t just wear the costume; he embodied it.

Picture it: The Baron, with his impeccable accent and mannerisms, giving an over-the-top impression of Hitler. The crew couldn’t stop laughing. It was surreal, absurd, and somehow perfect for the impromptu nature of "IYE." The Baron’s portrayal was so spot-on that if you squinted and tilted your head just right, you might have thought you were watching a historical reenactment mixed with a tune from HMS Pinafore. But the crew knew better. This was all part of the wild ride that was "IYE."

But that wasn’t the end of the Baron’s talents. He had a knack for creating realistic sound effects, a skill akin to a master Foley artist. In another unforgettable segment, The Baron staged a news flash about a huge five-alarm fire at the Spittal Brothers Department Store. With sirens blaring and his enthusiastic commentary, you could almost see the flames and smoke. The control room was in stitches, the laughter echoing through the studio.

As The Baron's sirens wailed and his voice rose in mock urgency, Paul looked around at his fellow crew members. They were all in tears from laughing so hard. It was moments like these that made working at CFPL TV more than just a job. It was a family of sorts, bound together by shared experiences and a sense of humor that could turn the mundane into the magical.

"IYE" never did make it to a regular weekly slot. It purposely remained a hidden gem, a series of taped episodes that existed somewhere between official programming and sheer lunacy and now long erased and dispatched to oblivion. But those who were there, who witnessed the birth of "In Your Ear," knew they were part of something special.

Years later, as they gathered at Shelley’s Bar on Wellington for their monthly old-timers’ luncheon, they’d reminisce about those days. Inevitably, the conversation would turn to "IYE," and they’d laugh all over again. They’d remember The Baron’s Hitler impersonation, the fire at Spittal Brothers, and the sheer joy of creating something purely for the fun of it.

So here’s to "IYE," the little show that could (and did, even if only briefly). It’s a testament to the spirit of CFPL TV, a place where creativity knew no bounds, and laughter was always just around the corner.

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Baron's Fiery Encounter with a Nun

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Baron's Fiery Encounter with a Nun

A Tribute To The Baron. RIP My Friend.

This is a draft of an entry from my ongoing blog of weekly posts that I started at the beginning of the year (MEMORIES OF CFPL TV)

To give you background on my upcoming chronicle: I looked up some emails that pertain to The Baron setting a nun on fire over 60 years ago and used them to compose a prompt to the robot ChatGPT. The picture is a composite of two separate pictures generated by Stable Diffusion and amalgamated into one in Photoshop.

Back in the late 1950's or very early 1960's, a story evolved about The Baron and how he set a nun on fire. In the studio they were producing the show "School of Christ" and Baron set a nun on fire with his cigar.

Over the years the story at CFPL TV grew and evolved into a more elaborate tale but with the help of the robot ChatGPT, this yarn to an even more fanciful and hilarious level. The Baron, a few weeks ago, before his sad passing, put the story into a far more conservative light. I hope you enjoy this tribute to Eric Boe in a lighthearted walk down memory lane.

Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Baron's Fiery Encounter with a Nun

In the hallowed halls of CFPL TV, where smoke-filled studios were the norm and cigars were as common as cameras, there existed a tale so outrageous, so ludicrous, that it became the stuff of legend – the infamous incident of The Baron setting a nun on fire.

Legend has it that on a fateful day in the late 1950s or early 1960s, during the production of the "School of Christ" program, The Baron, known for his penchant for cigars and penchant for mischief, found himself in a precarious situation. As the cameras rolled and the nun, clad in her holy habit, navigated the studio floor, disaster struck.

With cigar in hand and a mischievous glint in his eye, The Baron unwittingly found himself on a collision course with the unsuspecting nun. As she backed up, entangled in a web of camera cables and crew members, disaster seemed imminent. In a moment of sheer chaos, The Baron's cigar made contact with the nun's habit, igniting a spark that would set the stage for mayhem.

What ensued can only be described as pandemonium. The nun, momentarily ablaze, let out a startled shriek as her habit smoldered and smoked. The crew, stunned into silence, could only watch in horror as The Baron, realizing the gravity of the situation, frantically attempted to extinguish the flames with his bare hands.

But fear not, for this tale takes a comedic turn. In a stroke of luck (or perhaps divine intervention), the flames were swiftly extinguished, and the nun emerged unscathed, albeit with a singed habit and a newfound aversion to cigars.

In the aftermath of the incident, The Baron, consumed with guilt and remorse, embarked on a mission of penance. Riding his trusty horse to the School of Christ on Wellington, he sought out Father Finn to make amends for his unwitting transgression. And thus, an unlikely friendship blossomed between the cigar-smoking Baron and the seafaring Father, united by a shared love of tall tales and tall ships.

As for the nun, her brush with fiery peril became the talk of the town, embellished with each retelling until it took on a life of its own. And though the truth may have been obscured by the fog of time and the haze of cigar smoke, one thing remains certain – in the annals of CFPL TV Chronicles, The Baron's fiery encounter with a nun will forever be etched in the annals of absurdity.

Never wanting the truth get in the way of a good story, the legend of The Baron and the Fiery Nun, prevailed all these years. But I think The Baron's own rendition in an email before his death will set the record straight:

Email Thu, Feb. 8 at 10:10pm

In those days every one smoked in the studio. The Nun was backing up an would have fallen over some camera cables and me. I was operating camera had the cigar in my hand It burnt a hole in her gown, I did not set her alight. She only discovered this a week later.= so the story got out of hand!!!

Cheers Eric.

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Title: CFPL TV Chronicles: The Bosco Blunder

 

CFPL TV Chronicles: The Bosco Blunder

In the whimsical world of CFPL TV Chronicles, where every day brought a new adventure and a touch of mischief, Doug McGladdery, (before he moved to the news department and took up with his film camera), stood as a stalwart studio cameraman behind the lens. It was during his tenure on the children's playschool show "Sunshine School" that a moment of unexpected hilarity unfolded, leaving the entire crew in stitches.

As the video tape rolled and the pint-sized stars of "Sunshine School" danced across the screen, the show seamlessly transitioned into a commercial break, showcasing the latest offering from a sponsor that peddled a chocolate, malt, vanilla syrup known as Bosco. Little did anyone anticipate the comedic twist that was about to unfold.

After the commercial of the syrupy goodness of Bosco dancing across the screen, one precocious child seized upon the opportunity to share their unfiltered thoughts with the world. With a boldness that belied their tender years, the child exclaimed, "I hate Bosco!" in a moment of pure, unadulterated honesty.

The words hung in the air, a spontaneous eruption of candor that caught everyone off guard. Producer/director Peter Knott and his wife Bea, found themselves unable to contain their laughter, their embarrassment palpable as they struggled to maintain their composure in the face of such unexpected commentary.

As the child's declaration echoed through the studio, Doug McGladdery and the rest of the crew were swept up in a wave of laughter, their professional facades crumbling in the wake of the hilarity that ensued. It was a moment of pure comedic gold, a shining example of the unpredictable magic that often unfolded behind the scenes of "Sunshine School."

In the aftermath of the outburst, amidst the laughter that followed, Doug couldn't help but marvel at the sheer spontaneity of the moment. In a world where scripts and rehearsals often dictated the course of events, it was these unscripted moments of genuine humor that truly captured the spirit of live television.

As the day drew to a close and the laughter subsided, Doug reflected on the joyous chaos of life in the studio, where every day brought with it the promise of new adventures and unexpected surprises. And in the annals of CFPL TV Chronicles, the tale of the child who dared to speak their mind about Bosco would live on as a testament to the enduring spirit of laughter and camaraderie that defined the world of "Sunshine School."

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Title: CFPL TV Chronicles. The Number Game

 NOTE: This week I found a joke and asked the robot ChatGPT to embellish the story and compose it in the style of Jerry Seinfeld. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did adding to it and making the pictures with Stable Diffusion. Tim

CFPL TV Chronicles: The Number Game

So, let me get this straight. You've got this group of CFPL TV Oldtimers, right? And they've been meeting up at Shelly's, this tap and grill on Wellington Rd. for like, I don't know, forever. It's like clockwork—noon, first Tuesday of every month, like they're on some kind of sitcom TV show or something.

And what do they do at these little gatherings? They tell jokes. Yeah, that's right. They're like a comedy troupe that never left the green room. But here's the kicker—they've been doing it for so long, they've practically got their own joke shorthand.

So, picture this. Jim Swan, he's like the ringmaster of this joke circus, right? He'll stand up and just casually drop a number—103. And boom! The whole place erupts in laughter. It's like the punchline equivalent of a home run.

Then, "Big Red" Bob steps up to the plate. He's got his number ready to go—53. And wouldn't you know it, lightning strikes twice. The bar practically shakes with the force of the laughter. John Mahoney says "What about —877?" and the rest roar knowingly. Even Jill the waitress, brings the house down when she cries out —25.

But then, out of nowhere, Jack Shaunessy, he's like the wildcard of the group, right? He goes and drops this bombshell—1058. And I'm telling you, it's like the whole room just explodes. People are doubling over, tears streaming down their faces. It's comedy gold.

Now, here's the kicker. I turn to my buddies Paul "the Professor" and Mary, and I'm like, "Paul, what's with —1058? I mean, am I missing something here?" And you know what he says? He says, "Tim, it's simple . . .

We haven't heard that one before!"

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