Part I
My friend Garry is from Cincinnati, Ohio, and GAWD can he tell you some stories! His father and his grandfather were both "tube men" and despite the fact that they were German, they supplied Cincinnati with all her tubes, big and small, during both world wars.
Garry grew up with WLW, not only because they bought most of his family's tubes, but because station owner Mr. Crosley, below, did everything in a big way.
Always industrious, the made his first money blowing up balloons for the indigent.
To make his journey to school easier, Garry took the railroad down from his home.
He learned to drive a Crosley at a young age.
By the time he was a teenager, Garry played the banjo in intimate settings.
It was about that time he met Rod Serling and gave him most of his story ideas, except for the lousy ones.
Garry loved to talk about old Cincinnati and how town fathers-wannabe who thought they might marry themselves a little Pocahontas were burned at the stake and piled up in distant heaps.
When he described the exciting day his forebears discovered Kentucky was just across the Brooklyn Bridge, you almost felt like you were there.
He used his allowance to hire an osteopath to help Cincinnatus with his chronic back problems.
"Down thar's Mr. Wurlitzer's place," Garry would tell his playmates in his Ohio twang. "I guess I sold him enough tubes so's I ought to know."
Garry was befriended by Mr. Wurlitzer at his stately mansion "Org-O-Blo" and Wurlitzer, a fellow German, told Garry which schools to go to and which schools to graduate from.
In appreciation, young Garry came up with the "Nipper" logo which a proud Mr. Wurlitzer adopted as a hood ornament for his fleet of vehicles.
At Halloween Garry would throw eggs at the old Taft residence and stick pins in the doorbell. "Bunch of smartacres they are," he'd say. "Hope I never t'meet any boy who went to their school or he'd know what t'for!"
Every Christmas, he would visit the town orphan asylum and give them candy.
From his earliest days, Gary was regarded as a budding genius. He simultaneously taught his kindergarten class the value of Christian living and the value of Pi.
Even when at play, Garry was always thinking of new ideas. For his sixth grade class project he directed the building of stairs for the children too poor to afford the incline railroad.
In gratitude the Mayor gave him the use of a water-cooled laboratory (with a window) on the top floor of the twin water towers. It was here that Garry perfected binoculars and a new style of lingerie.
But Garry reserved his best work for the Hotel Alms. First he strung up an antenna to help direct auto traffic via radio waves.
While Garry was working on the antenna, the Alms manager bemoaned the fact that his back room patrons complained of their parking lot view, especially after it was labeled.
"That's simple!" exclaimed Garry. "Have you any old cloud machines?" And yet another problem was solved with a handshake and a smile.
When Garry moved to Atlanta, he applied many of his Cincinnati ideas, but gave the credit to his Atlanta employers.
END PART 2
November 2023