One of the more interesting characters I have met in my life is my second cousin twice-removed Rufus A. Doolittle.

No matter how many times the family removed him he just kept coming back.

If you meet Rufus on the street, he will always have on his old blue Bibb overalls covering nearly 300 pounds of his favorite dishes.

He always said he was built more for comfort than for speed.

He wears an old brown leather hat held together by every kind of pin and wire known to man, which barely covers his head.

Now, Rufus was the type of person who would find salt interesting. I mean, if you and he sat down in a restaurant while waiting on your food, Rufus would pick up the salt shaker, pour some in the palm of his hand and proceed to be amazed.

He is one of the only people in my life that I ever saw stop to get something to eat on the way to a restaurant.

I guess he just could not pass up that chicken going round and round on the rotisserie at that gas station. It was sort of like a ride at the fair. You know you should not get on it but you just can’t help yourself.

Rufus spent most of his life as a mechanic and he was blessed with the ability to take apart and put together a car in nothing flat.

The only problem was, like so many other people, he would often start one project without finishing another. He had a habit of just piling all the parts he removed up in one big pile in the middle of the garage floor. I don’t know how he ever found anything.

I was amazed at how he could reach in and pick out just the right part from the pile to replace it in a particular car.

At least I hope he was able to do that, or there are a lot of Fords and Chevrolets and a Volkswagen or two running around with the wrong pieces inside.

Rufus always had an abundance of cars awaiting service as he called it. They were up on blocks in the yard around his house. He referred to them as wealth waiting to happen. Many of them, the owners had given up on long ago but Rufus just could not let them breath their last breath, so he would tinker on them until they would cough and sputter their way through town yet again.

Whenever he found himself needing to take a ride, he would just jump in whatever car was running.

I once asked him how he kept up with all of the license fees on all these cars.

He told me it was simple: he moved the tag to whichever car happened to be running.

Rufus married young to another one of my cousins. Of course, they weren’t related but their kids are.

Madeleen is one of the finest women to ever walk the earth; I have never seen anyone who could swing a baseball bat quite like her.

Rufus has got pretty good at ducking over the years, too.

One time Madeleen and Rufus decided to take a vacation. They had it all figured out because they had gotten an invite to one of those all-inclusive resorts where they make you sit through the sales pitch.

Madeleen decided to make it worth their while. While they were getting a sales pitch from the resort, she would give a sales pitch on her Busy Bee cosmetics that she makes herself at home to the salesperson.

She truly believes in the value of her full line of soaps, powders and make up.

Rufus is living proof that the stuff makes you look better.

After using the soap, his skin tightened up making him look ten years younger. He got a bright red glow in his cheeks.

Of course after they pulled all the stingers out he deflated a bit and the red glow went away after about a week, but for a day or two there he looked like he was ten years younger, bigger but younger.

While most folks have to sit through a long drawn out sales pitch, once Madeleen got up, threw a barber’s cloth around the sales person’s neck and began to rub on her facial crème. That was all she wrote.

That salesman was so enthralled over the facial, he stopped the presentation right then and there and showed Rufus and Madeleen the door.

They didn’t have to hear another word from him the whole weekend. Of course, the last time they saw the salesman he did look ten years younger.

08/18/10

Stringbean, close to our hearts

When I was growing up one of my favorite TV shows was “Hee-Haw.” I remember Saturday nights from seven to eight, sitting and rolling in the floor with laughter to the antics of Junior Samples, Lulu Roman, Grandpa Jones, Archie Campbell, Sheb Wooley and all the rest.

One of the stars that I always enjoyed seeing was David “Stringbean” Akeman. He played the scarecrow in the Korn field with a crow sitting upon his shoulder. I remember one of his routines where he sat and read funny letters from home to other cast members, doing his bit where “I have it close to my heart, my heart, heart” while searching every pocket in his overalls to find it while repeating the word ‘Heart’ over and over again.

I often use some of his techniques I saw him do in my own comedy routines.

But of all his comedic antics and his tall tales, I really enjoyed his old time banjo performances. He did many of the standards like “Good Ole Mountain Dew” and “Here Rattler Here” and his more unusual hit “Chewing Gum.”

Stringbean got his start working with Charlie Monroe in Louisville, Kentucky, a time when Ramblin’ Tommy Scott and Curly Seckler worked with Charlie. On the side, he operated a little refueling station.

Stringbean eventually moved to Nashville and became part of Bill Monroe’s Bluegrass Boys. He was Bill’s first banjo player using his two finger and clawhammer style. After leaving Monroe he struck out in a comedy duo with Lew Childre and then totally on his own. Eventually he was the most recognized star of the NBC Grand Ole Opry Prince Albert Show. At the height of his popularity at the Opry he made a bold move leaving the Opry for a year and a half to tour with the Tommy Scott Show across the U.S. and Canada.

After enjoying that time on the road he returned to the Opry where he stayed the rest of his life touring and sharing his unique flair with audiences. He and his wife Estelle despite their wealth lived a meager existence in a small farmhouse outside Nashville. Meals often consisted of pinto beans, cornbread or a cornmeal mush and whatever String might have bagged that day when he went hunting or fishing, pastimes that he enjoyed as much as being on stage.

By the time producers selected Stringbean’s part of the country version of “Laugh-In” in 1969, he had already been a star attraction at the Opry for about two decades.

In his long plaid shirt, and his britches that came up somewhere just above his knees and his funny hat, he created a character that endeared itself to the American people. By the time "Hee-Haw" came along he like so many others of his generation were in what some might consider the waning years of their career, but "Hee-Haw" gave them new life and a new audience 40 million strong.

It made the entire cast household names and faces in cities across the country and demand for personal appearances in the off-season from the show soared.

It has been 37 years since Stringbean and his lovely wife Estelle lost their lives in a double murder that rocked Nashville. On his latest CD, my friend Sam Bush sings a recently composed song reflecting loosely back on the day that String and Estelle were killed entitled “The Ballad of Stringbean and Estelle.” Find out more about that by visiting http://www.sambush.com/. On that sad day, two men were robbing their home. The couple returned early from an Opry performance because Stringbean was able to perform earlier than originally scheduled. When the couple arrived they surprised the robbers who shot and killed them both. Friend and neighbor Grandpa Jones discovered them the next day.

Despite my young age, I remember the sadness I shared in hearing of this tragedy.

In the years to come I met and worked with many that were close to Stringbean, his agent Joe Taylor, Grandpa Jones, Tommy Scott and others. Even a decade ago the murders still loomed as a topic of conversation. A few years back I remember when some construction workers found a rather large sum of money hidden away in the couple’s humble house left from his many years of performing.

Stringbean didn’t like banks. From the stories I have heard of his desire to amass $1 million in cash as a primary goal in his life, I believe somewhere, someday, someone else will find more of String’s savings.

He was honored in 1995 with the unveiling of a life size bronze statue in his home of Jackson County, Kentucky. Porter Wagoner and Tommy Scott did the unveiling. He is remembered each June with the Stringbean Memorial Bluegrass Festival in Tyner, Ky. For more information about next year’s event, visit http://www.stringbeanpark.com/.

Now that "Hee-Haw" is found as a classic television DVD collection (http://www.heehaw.com/) and in reruns on RFD-TV (Sundays at 8 p.m. E.S.T.), his music and comedy is accessible to those who wish to see him. But I think it is such a tragedy that those who have come into this world since 1973 did not have a chance to see in person this wonderfully talented performer. I do thank those who reflect on and carry on in his memory from the bottom of my "heart, heart ... heart."

08/11/10

“M.A.S.H.” memories
 
When considering the monumental shows of television, one of these would have to be the series “M.A.S.H.” starring Alan Alda and a cast of hilarious character actors who seem to face an endless stream of war-time horrors with levity and courage.

I remember sitting with 130 million other Americans on February 28, 1983 as the cast said their final good-byes as the war came to an end. It was television’s most watched show in history, according to the Neilsen ratings.

“‘Hawkeye’ Pierce,” Alda’s character, and “B.J. Honeycutt,” played by Mike Farrell could not seem to get together to say goodbye. Honeycutt just could not say the words. As the helicopter took off and in stones upon the ground B.J. wrote the word “Goodbye.” I remember welling up as if I had just lost my best friend. In many ways, I had.

When the show started I was too young to watch but my parents enjoyed watching the show so, from time to time, I got to see it.

As I reached high school, I had grown up enough to watch the show regularly, and it became a regular Monday night ritual.

The characters in a way worked themselves into my life. I was vested in what happened to them.

Thanks to “M.A.S.H.,” for a generation of military, Korea was no longer in the past; a new story came into homes every Monday night.

People were amazed at the staying power of the series that went on for over 10 years — seven years longer than the war itself. As cast members moved stateside, such as “Cpl. ‘Radar’ O'Reilly,” played by Gary Burghoff, or to the great reward, such as McLean Stevenson's character “Lt. Col. Henry Blake,” who died on his way home when his transport crashed into the sea, the war machine just kept on going, much as it did in real life.
Someone else filled his or her shoes and the story went on.
Even after the war ended, the comedy series “AfterM.A.S.H.” followed several characters home.

I have had the distinct pleasure to work with several of the people who made the show a success.

One of these began his acting career at age nine. Gene Reynolds appeared in a string of films from 1934-56. He also made numerous television appearances. In the 1950s, he shifted his attention to directing and, later, producing.
Reynolds was one of the masterminds behind the “M.A.S.H.” phenomenon, acting as an executive producer, writing, and directing several episodes. He also was one of the creators of “Lou Grant.”

I worked with Reynolds as he came to direct an episode of “In the Heat of the Night” entitled “First Girl.” It was in this episode that the Sparta Police Department received its first woman officer. She unfortunately lost her life in a shootout but was quickly replaced in the same episode by Crystal Fox who played “Luann Corbin” throughout the rest of the show.

After attending an Atlanta Falcons football game with fellow cast and crew members, assistant director Paul Chavez, script supervisor Jill Freeman, and I visited with Reynolds at his condo and had the opportunity to hear a few of his stories from his long career. Throughout my time with him working behind the scenes on that episode, I found him a creative, enthusiastic director.

I could easily see why “M.A.S.H.” was such a success.
We were also blessed to have Allan Arbus, psychiatrist “Dr. Sidney Freedman” to guest star as “Dr. Atwill” in a couple of episodes on our show.

In March 1996, while working with Alan Autry on the set of “Grace Under Fire,” I had the pleasure of meeting another “M.A.S.H.” alumnus, that great ball of fire known as “Col. Sherman Potter” — Harry Morgan. Yet another TV veteran with some 50 years on the screen playing roles such as “Officer Bill Gannon” on “Dragnet.”

Morgan played “George,” a beau to “Grandma Jean,” portrayed by Peggy Rhea. Getting to see this legend work up close was a treat. The audience welcomed him warmly, and each of his lines reflected flawless comedic timing.
I only shook hands with him in passing as Alan Autry introduced us outside the studio following the evening’s filming. In that brief moment, however, I did get to tell him how much his performances on “M.A.S.H.” brought laughter into my life. The meeting was even more poignant for me because only a few weeks before, his much younger predecessor on the show, Stevenson, had passed away suddenly. I remember I was driving my truck down Hollywood Blvd. when I heard the news of his passing over the radio.

Another small connection to the series that I have is Tony Packo’s Café, a restaurant in Toledo, Oh. The restaurant started in 1932, and received extra attention when Jamie Farr’s “Klinger” character placed it on the “M.A.S.H” roadmap.

Before that, however, they began collecting signatures of celebrities on small artificial Packo’s buns for display. The first on a real bun was Burt Reynolds. I am honored to be one of those who has signed a Packo’s bun and now have a place in Toledo history and, in a way, another connection to “M.A.S.H.”

I was also honored recently when Alan Alda and Allan Arbus helped me with my latest cookbook “Stirring Up Additional Success with a Southern Flavor” sharing their favorite recipes to help raise funds for our literacy program in my hometown. It is available on our Randall Franks Store page with PayPal.

If you have never watched the show and are looking for a change from reality television, I encourage you to catch a rerun of “M.A.S.H.” on TV Land.

I caution you, there is some adult humor and situations. How else could they depict war without some things that children should not see? Considering what networks are putting on the tube today in most teen-age shows, what was pushing the envelope a bit in the 70s is tame today.
While that does not say much for today’s shows, “M.A.S.H.” came along at a time when producers still respected the audience and tried to develop a show that the family could watch.

Although at times there were themes or stories viewers may not wish to share with younger family members, it was the vast number of characters and their stories that truly brought the viewer back to watch each week. 

08/04/10

Lifting the burdens of others

Have you ever known need? Have you ever been hungry and not known where your next meal is coming from? While I have been blessed not to know this sense of desperation, I have seen the face of despair in many and heard stories of desperation from years past.

I was recently standing at a gasoline pump filling my tank. When a car pulled in next to me. After hearing the engine, I immediately thought, they are lucky to be going anywhere.

In just a matter of minutes the man had stuck his head around the pump and passing the time of day. He shared the family’s story with me and I listened as I pumped.

I realized as the conversation progressed that it was apparent as I looked into his face that they were in real need.

Some years ago, I remember performing out in Texas with the gospel group, The Marksmen. We had had a long trip and the old bus was traveling rough.

As we drove through the areas of Louisiana and Texas that were deeply tied to the oil industry, you could see the shadow of doubt that covered the faces of the people. The bottom had fallen out and many could no longer afford to even pump the crude that supported their way of life. Families were hurting.

We pulled up to a little church out in the middle of a farm area somewhere between Dallas and Houston. The little church probably held 100 on its best day.

When we arrived some men from the church cheerfully assisted Keith Chambers, Rob Gillentine and Earle Wheeler with some repairs on the bus.

In spite of the depressed economy we had seen as we stopped along our trip, this little church seemed to be an island. The women of the church soon arrived; gleefully putting together a Texas spread fit for Sam Houston, filled with fried chicken, corn on the cob and green beans with a side of fatback. They went out of their way to make us weary travelers feel at home as we scurried around setting up the sound equipment and record table.

As we watched the congregation trickle in that evening to reach around 60 folks or so, I thought that was a long way to go to sing to such a small group of people. Before we even stepped up on the pulpit, you could feel the spirit of God filling the room. The church came alive with rejoicing; those whose faces came in laden with heavy burdens seemed to smooth as their concerns were lifted, if only momentarily.

After the singing and the eating were over, the bus was running again, loaded and we were once again on the road. Down the road a ways, it was customary to check over the offering and sales figures. None of us could believe what the count yielded. The amount given and bought by that little congregation exceeded that of some of the largest churches I have ever been in. I know some of those folks probably needed the money more than we did but they gave anyway.

I was blessed in their spirit and their faith.

Sometimes even when we find ourselves in despair, giving and helping others can lift us from those depths.

Have you ever met someone when you asked, how they are, they really tell you?

After several minutes of sharing their problems, I imagine it makes them feel better. Or does it? Do they go to the next person and share the same afflictions?

If we only remember that each time we see someone, it is the opportunity to share joy and happiness. Everyone has problems. If we can only lift each other’s load for just a moment by sharing happiness, much like these folks at that little church did for us through their spirit of love in the face of hard times. We came to brighten their lives through the message of God’s love through music. After seeing such despair along the road, it turned out they were the ones who brightened mine.

Did you uplift or help someone today? 

—
Randall Franks is an award-winning musician, singer and actor. He is best known for his role as “Officer Randy Goode” on TV’s “In the Heat of the Night” now on WGN America. His latest CD release, “God’s Children,” is by www.etrecordshop.com. He is a member of the Atlanta Country Music Hall of Fame. He is a syndicated columnist and can be reached at rfrankscatoosa@gmail.com.