Introduction

This is probably my final collection of stories, but who knows  At this writing, I'm only 79 and a half so I very well may rattle on enough to fill another one of these "blog books."

By the way...I'm pretty sure these things are all done by machines...which explains why pictures may appear in strange places....and "captions" sometimes wind up as the first sentence of the story...etc.....I've tried to solve that by deleting all the captions before this book goes to print....

But....who knows.

My wonderful sister "Kak" passed away this year, and as far as I know she was the only person who ever read any of my "books," however, perhaps sometime in the future one of my grandkids or someone may thumb through one or two of them.

But, more and more, that's becoming less and less likely, since the way things are going, the art of "reading" will be lost in about 20 years or so.

But, it ain't my fault; nor is what has been happening to our once great country in the past 10 or 15 years.

Here, in the year 2015, I find myself...a white, straight, conservative male...among the most hated groups of people in America.

People like me are the ones who founded this greatest country in history.

And we are not the ones who are tearing it down.

May God help us.

Lee/Ed

Hot Off the Press

Well, it was a long, long time ago....

Haven't We Met Before?

I'm Not sure exactly when the history of the Civil War captured my imagination, but I think it was  when I was 7 or 8 years old. 

My family was visiting my cousin Charles Mateer and my Aunt Kathryn when they were spending the summer with Uncle Harry whose company was building a facility for the government's war effort  in Beaufort, S.C.  (Pronounced BEW-fort....as opposed to Beaufort, N.C. (Pronounced BOW-fort).

Walking around, barefoot (as most all kids did back then in the summer time) I stepped on a "mnnie ball." 

From then on, I was hooked.

I've never tired of reading about it and was especially thrilled to discover early on that I had ancesters who fought in the war...especially Manse Jolly, who was somewhat "famous," or "notorious," depending on which side you were on.

Then when I discovered that my wife also had an ancester, Sidney Davis, who had fought for the OTHER side...and had even written a book......WELL.......my imagination has been in overdrive ever since.

Being a Southerner, my sympathies have always been on the side of my ancestors.  But after "meeting" (via his book) Sidney Davis...WELL.....

Anyway, it's a damm good thing they didn't happen to meet up on some battlefield, and start shooting at each other...and........

Or did they?

Sidney Davis devotes an entire chapter of his book to the

Battle of Brandy Station the largest Cavalry battle of the War. Manse and Sidney were both Cavalry officers, but on opposite sides, and both fought in that battle!

Small world, huh?

But of course there were thousands of men and horses that participated  so the odds against their actually shooting at each other  were still pretty great.

There were also some new things I learned about Manse that I didn't know:

The Confederate Military Records stated that:

 The company comander, Capt. Baker, wrote that Manse was 6 feet 4 inches tall, and that he had a ruddy complexion, blue eyes and red hair. 

In the heat and confusion of the battle , Davis writes that he found himself knocked off his horse and mingled briefly with a few Coufederate Calverymen also separated from their horses scrambling to return to their units.

In the confusion, Davis writes that he passed  

 "....a tall,  savage looking confederate, his long red hair and flaming whiskers, heavy eyebows, and muscular frame made up a formidable object, of which I should have felt shy...if alone."

Manse?

Well, he sure fits that description, especially the "formidable object," part.

Nawwww, couldn't be. There were lots of Confederate Calvery soldiers....6'4"...with red hair........

Right?

-Ed

Stories Told on the Porch by My 170 Year Old Grandfather

Now that I have your attention.

Admittedly, the headline may be a little misleading, but it's all true!

Kinda.

Except it's not about my grandfather, he didn't tell stories on the porch, and he wasn't 170 years old.

Sidney Davis was my wife's great, great, etc grandfather. I never heard him tell any stories, but he wrote a lot of them, all of which were about his adventures as a Cavalry man in the Yankee Army during the Civil War...which occurred 150 years ago at which time he was about 20 years old.
That's how I came up with the 170.

I've passed on several of his adventures before on this site, for example the time he was sent out to forage  for meat for some of his fellow soldiers.....

"By and by, I came upon a flock of sheep, to which I gave chase. I was rather fleet of foot and kept close to them and driving them into fence corners and over all sorts of obstructions.
Finally, one of them, made an effort to jump through a fence but became fastened, and I caught it.

Out came my knife and I felt for its throat; while thus engaged, however, I felt its heart beat wildly against my leg. “Poor old fellow,” thought I, “how hard it must be for even an animal to yield up its innocent life!”

I hesitated, I put down my hand and stroked its head; and then, returning my knife to my pocket, dismissed the sheep with my blessing."

The foraging expedition was a failure that night.


The last I saw of that sheep was after I had crossed the fence out of the field. I looked back after I had traveled about two rods, and there he was, mounted on his hind feet, and with his fore feet upon the upper rail, and his white head up in the air, and his eyes peering after me.

And then there was the time, after the battle of Gettysburg that he was captured prisoner by the Confederates and being driven by "car" (the train) to Belle Isle prison near Richmond.

The ride from Gordonsville to Richmond was devoid of interest. I remember that it grew dark soon after we left the former town, and that there seemed to be an endless monotony of pine forests and lonely fields.

But few words were spoken that night. I managed to secure a seat on the end of a car beside one of the guards...a tall, lean, lank man, forty-five or fifty years of age, with long reddish hair and whiskers...and as comfortable as circumstances would permit. 

About midnight I felt the guard lean heavily upon me, and from his hand slipped the dreaded musket.  As it fell I seized it, and thus prevented its loss. The man was sound asleep.

My first impulse, now that I had an enemy in my power, was to push him off suddenly between the cars, and have him crushed to death; but it occurred to me that such an act would simply constitute a cowardly murder; then the vision of a family in tears rose vividly before me.

I awakened him, gave him his gun, and cautioned him playfully as to his duty as a soldier.

He seemed very grateful, and said he was completely worn out from fatigue.  For a few moments he sat up, and then settled back again...sound asleep, and I once more caught the gun as it fell.

I allowed him to sleep until we reached Richmond, just before dawn, when I aroused him."

Sidney Davis was a good man that the Civil War caused some bad

things to happen to. He saw a lot of death and came close himself on a number of occasions.  Even the one time he was issued a two week "leave" and returned home for a short rest, was not without shock.

Davis was a Motherless child who lived with an "off and on" alcoholic father who worked for a man named Levi Bentley. They also lived on his property. Davis' childhood was pretty much normal for children of that era. In addition to the farm, Bentley owned a printing business at which both father and son worked. A Mrs. Samuel's worked as a housekeeper for Mr. Bentley and was like a "mother" to Sidney.

While relaxing on leave at his home, Davis accidentally discovered a document that he never knew existed;

 Allegheny city, September 20 1845

This article of agreement between Levi Bentley of Washington, County, State of Pennsylvania, of the one part, and Nancy Davis of Allegheny City of the other part witnesseth:
     That the said Nancy agrees to give her son Sidney to the said Levi Bentley to raise until he shall be fit to go for a trade. He also agrees to feed and clothe the boy during the above period.  Mr. Levi Bentley also agrees to give the mother Nancy Thirty-five dollars in cash this day, which she receipts for.  It is distinctly understood by the parties that the said Levi shall have the sole control of the boy, without the interference of his mother Nancy, in consideration of the above thirty five dollars.

He had been an "indentured servant!"

Davis writes only that in hindsight, his father never exercised any claim over him as a parent and "Levi spared my feelings in the matter, for I did not know of the existence of the document."

Davis wrote his memories hoping to have them published and launch his career as a "writer."

But he had no luck.  Instead, his hand written manuscript traveled  unread,  from year to year in descendant's attics until my wife's uncle, John Davis read it....and published it.

Sales were mostly to family members...about half of whom took the trouble to read it, and the other half tucked it away in their attics.

Sorry Sid, but reading is not what many Americans do these days.

Plus, the current generation of youngsters consider the Civil War to be "old" news.  "Something that happened a long, long time ago....probably just after WW2."

It's "so...yesterday."

-Ed

WUNC-TV

My first "anchor gig" was when I was in college at the University of North Carolina. I took over the anchor position on the 6 o'clock news for Channel 4 in Chapel Hill...that was WUNC-TV.

(I was using my real name back then, Ed Myers.  I didn't become "Lee Shephard" until I joined WTOP-TV in Washington in  1961 because of a "conflict" with another "Ed Myer" TV personality on a competeting station.)


I was the first student to do that job...prior to that in 1956 or perhaps it was 1957...professors did that. I was paid $1 a show.
It was great experience for me....that was my first anchor job...and I'm sure it played a role in getting my first commercial TV job at WSOC-TV Charlotte...anchoring the 11pm news on Channel 9.

WUNC-TV was located at that time in Swain Hall....the original Cafeteria Building for UNC.  

(The nickname back then was "Swine Hall.)

Speaking of that, there was a small snack shop next to Swain Hall...which also housed the University's FM radio station. I hung around there for a short time during my freshman year but I don't believe I ever did any work there. I got to know a few of the guys who did work there, mostly seniors I believe, and one of the upper classmen asked me to run next door and get him a "cup of choclate."

Chocolate what,?  I asked.

A CUP OF CHOCOLATE!.....You Damm Fool.  (He didn't say, "Damm Fool" but that was his tone.)

So, I went next door and asked the clerk behind the counter for a "cup of chocolate."

She replied, "A cup of chocolate what?

Damned if I know, he said you'd know.

So, she pumped out a cup of chocolate sauce and handed it to me.

I gave it to the aforementioned senior...who didn't seem happy at all.

You just can't please some people.

Snapshots of staff members.

1957 was a long time ago....so forgive me, but I can't remember the names of these outstanding staff members.

My guess on the left....producer John?..... and Van Trapp ? on the right.  Middle fellow?

-Ed

My Inner Artist

In case you missed it, the art world is all atwitter because of Sotheby's  latest auction.  As usual, record prices were paid. To the best of my knowledge I don't ever remember an art auction where "record prices" were NOT paid.

Three of the top sellers were:

"Yellow on Blue" by Mark Rothko...which sold for 48 Million Dollars.

"Yellow on Blue"

Some of Marks other "masterpieces" are  "Red and Blue," "Brown and Black," etc.  His most famous paintng, was "Orange  and Yellow," which sold for $87 million dollars!

"Orange and Yellow"

Alberto Goacometti's bronze sculpture "Pointng Man" sold for 148 million dollars. which exceeded the record breaking price of 27.8 million dollars paid a couple of years ago for his "Walking Man."

"Pointng Man"  by Goacometti

Walking Man

I've decided that it's way past `time for me to get in on this rac....... game!

I realized last night while going through a box of old pictures, taken with the now forgotten film camera (remember Kodak?) that I've had an artistic talent lurking deep inside me that I never realized I had!  It's amazing how just reading about a Sotheby's auction brought out my "inner artist!"

Anyway, after going through only a couple of boxes of old photographs and negatives, a number of obvious "classics" popped right up.  I'm sure you'll agree that these prize winners will make struggling artists everywhere want to turn in their berets!

"Going Forward"

Circle of Life"

"In the Beginning"

Inner Artist (Continued)

"Life is Wired"

So, Eat your hearts out Mark and Al, there's a new guy in town....ME!

AND, I'm going to tell the thousands of CHS54 website readers how to get in on the action too!

Find a bunch of your old photographs (the kind we all used to take with a film camera) and search for the prints that hopefully you didn't throw away. Every roll we used to get back from the Drug Store included 2 or 3

"The Colors of Our Moods"

frames at the beginning of the roll that the Drug Store's developing machine printed that were simply part of the winding of the film into the camera.  Hopefully you didn't throw them away...because these are the non-sensical, funky images that the art world loves!

That's how my "classics" happened.

Except for the "Circle of Life."  That happened when my flash didn't go off.

Anything that doesn't make any sense to you, will probably be considered a masterpiece by the art world, so go for it!

Give them a high faluting, ethereal name...and VOILA!...the money should start rolling in.

-Ed

Did You Hear the One About...

I don't get asked much anymore, but whenever I attend a gathering at which I'm introduced and expected to "say a few words," it's been my habit to open with  something mildly humorous. That seems to "break the ice" for the group AND me.
 That always seemed to work.

Until yesterday.

The event was a neighborhood "swim" party to welcome all of the new families who had recently moved in.  It was a fairly good size group. When I was introduced to the crowd, I told them how happy we "old time original owners" were to have them as neighbors.........etc........but I wouldn't be able to join them in the swimming pool.....because I just discovered that morning that my swimming trunks had a hole in the knee.

Then, silence.

My "break the ice" bit of levity had fallen flat.

Whenever that happens, I just want to go hide under my bed and for at least the rest of the day I kick myself for not taking my wife's advice and use every opportunity that comes along to JUST SHUT UP.

Oh well.

It's an old, old joke, but I still think it's funny.  However, maybe the reason it fell so flat with the crowd of young families, is that they have no idea that men's bathing suits in the early 1900's came down almost to their ankles.

And then again, maybe it's just time to retire that joke.

I know a real funny one about a velocipede

-Ed

Whatever Happened To

Pete Toomey

The late Pete Toomey, an old friend I knew from my WGIV days in the early 50s, made a tape recording of what he remembered about the history of that station. He stayed in contact with Bill Lineburger, the long time chief engineer of Charlotte's first "independent" station.

On that tape he mentioned a name that I heard many stories about, but never met. Since he was mentioned by so many in the broadcast business, I figured that our paths would cross eventually.

But they never did.

I never forgot his name though...and some of the stories about him.

But since my retirement, almost 2 years ago, I have time to do a lot of things I never found the time to do.  One of which is searching on the Internet.

However, I have come up with NOTHING but dead ends in my search for the legendary...CONRAD PHILLIPS.

All I know is that he was a great football player...for Central High before WW2...fought in that great war, losing both feet in the process, returned to Charlotte and was hired as a DJ for WGIV and attended Charlotte College......

Walter Cronkite and Julian Barber

My friend the late Julian Barber and he were good friends and Julian once told me a story about
Conrad.  

It seems that he and Julian were going somewhere and they came upon a bunch of young boys playing football.  Conrad decided to coach them a little on the finer points of "passing" and "punting" the football.

The kids watched spellbound as he showed them exactly how to grip the football...and how to "lead" a receiver, etc.

They were in complete awe as this ex-football star began explaining the finer points of "punting;" how to grip it with the laces up and arms fully extended....then two steps and drop the ball....and KICK!

As his foot met the ball.....the perfect spiral sailed high in the air.

And so did his prosthetic foot!

Julian said he never saw a bunch of scared kids run home so fast!

So, if any of you know anything about CONRAD PHILLIPS......let me know.

-Ed

Finger Licking Good

KFC Restaurant

"There's no accounting for taste," goes the old expression, but personally, the Kentucky Colonel's "finger licking good" fried chicken is hard to beat.  In my opinion, it's the best since my Aunt Kathryn's   iron skillet fried Sunday dinner special.

( Sunday dinner, of course, was at 12 noon, right after church.)

As modest as I am, truth dictates that I admit that I am somewhat of a celebrity at my local KFC restaurant.  It's all because I mentioned one time that I knew the white haired, goateed old man in the white suit, pictured on the wall of the restaurant.

Not well, BUT I once spent a couple of hours with him when

Colonel Sanders

he was a guest on the TV show I was hosting.  (I only bragg about all the celebrities I knew to people who don't realize that anyone who ever hosted a local TV or radio show probably interviewed  at least a 100 "stars" whose 
PR people regularly booked them on as many stations as possible.)

The Colonel seemed to me to be a very 
nice, modest man...who had a lot to be 

modest about.  His early life was one of 

ups and downs, mostly downs, until his love of cooking finally paid off.

Prior to that he had held a variety of jobs, selling insurance, working for a steamboat ferry company and eventually took a correspondence course that allowed him to earn a law degree. 

However, he ruined his legal career by getting into a fist fight with his client in the courtroom.

Later he opened a restaurant in Corbin Kentucky and found modest success for the first time in his life. 

 But at the time of his 65th birthday the restaurant had ceased being profitable and he had completely used up his savings. 

 He was  dead broke.

Sanders used the money from his first social security check to travel by car, often sleeping in it, calling on restaurants to try his special chicken recipe and invest in its success.  He estimated that he called on 1009 restaurants, often cooking samples for the restaurants, before he got his first "yes" response. 

And, the rest is history.

TRADER VIC

I could also impress the workers at the local "Trader Vics," except for the fact that there is not one anymore close to where I live.

In fact, there are only 4 left in the United States.  But in the 1960's the "Tiki" theme was popular and a self promoter  named Victor Jules Bergeron changed the name and decor of the restaurant he owned in San Francisco, from "Rinky Dinks" to "Trader Vics."  (Rinky Dink was borrowed from he WW1 song, "Rinky Dinky Parley Vous.")

Bergeron told me that until he came along, there was no such

thing as "Polynesian Food."  He said he just made that up. 

He also "invented" himself, falling right in to the persona of a South Pacific trader/pirate.

His wooden leg (lost in a shark attack, he said) fit right in with  his new image with which he was known to entertain customers by sticking an ice pick in it.  Often he would tell people, "Never get one of these...unless you really need it."

I guess that was pretty entertaining after the customers had consumed a couple of Trader Vics other "invention," the Mai Tai.

-Ed

STOP-ped

Remember how telegrams used to end sentences with the word "STOP," instead of a period?

The reason was because Western Union charged for punctuation, but not for words of only 4 letters.

I learned that small fact in an article I read about the 150 year old company sending its last telegram in 2006.

In its time Western Union played a huge part in this country's history.

It was an important part of my family as well. One of my father's first jobs was as a bicycle delivery
boy for Western Union. He later taught himself the Morse Code and worked as a telegrapher for the company.  My mother also worked at Western Union.  She retired from there after 40 years.

I often think of how depressing many of her days were...putting those telegrams together from the War Department during WW2 informing parents of the deaths of their soldier sons and daughters...and then sending them out to be delivered.

As far as I know, Western Union is still around, doing fairly well sending money orders.

But those "glory days" of bringing "earth shattering" news, both happy AND tragic, have STOP -ed.

Ed

I Don't Believe in Ghosts

Of course not.

"Bloody Lane"  Antietam

But, to be totally honest, I sometimes get unexplained chills up my spine when visiting historical sites; Especially Civil War Sites.

Standing in the middle of "Bloody Lane" on the Antietam Battle field was almost painful. I'm sure it wasn't caused by "ghosts," but my own awareness of what happened there.

Nevertheless, I never tire of visiting Civil War sites.

A few years ago, I was driving back from a business meeting in Richmond when I spotted a sign just before  Fredericksberg pointing to the Stonewall Jackson Shrine, which is a fancy name for the farmhouse where Stonewall Jackson died.

Jackson had been wounded by "friendly fire" from members of the 18th NC regiment, led by John D. Barry who died two years later at age 27 according to his family as a direct consequence of his guilt and depression over his role in Jackson's death. This happened during the Battle of Chancellorsville when Jackson had his men continue fighting even after dark, which was unusual during the Civil War.
` 

House where Jackson Died

It was dusk when I pulled off I-95 onto the road that led to the tiny community of Guinea, VA, which as far as I could determine is little more than a few houses and a stop sign. All of the National Parks have signs that announce they are closed after dark, and I was definitely pushing the envelope.  But there were no barriers to the entrance of the small parking lot, so I pulled right in. There were no other cars there either, nor did I see anyone. All I saw was a small white house, which according the the historical marker at the entrance to the parking lot was the house where Stonewall Jackson died.

In spite of the fact that all signs indicated that the "shrine" was closed, I tried the door anyway, and to my surprise it was unlocked. I went in thinking a park ranger must still be there. But got no response to my "Hello, anybody home?  

So, feeling like I really shouldn't be doing this, I became my own "tour director."  The room where

Bed where Stonewall died

Jackson died was well marked, indicating that the Clock, the meager furniture and the bed were all original and in their original positions.

It was in this room, and this bed, where Jackson uttered his famous "last words:+

“Order A.P. Hill to prepare for action! Pass the infantry to the front rapidly! Tell Major Hawks”—then stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished. Presently a smile of ineffable sweetness spread itself over his pale face, and he said quietly, and with an expression, as if of relief, “Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”

Suddenly, I heard a voice from behind me say,

"The South lost the war when he died."

Startled is not a strong enough word to describe my reaction at that moment. I turned and saw another tourist who apparently had arrived after me that I had not noticed before. He was a tall man, about 40 years old, sporting a short beard. I said something inane like, "Oh....I didn't realize you were here...." Whereupon he repeated his belief that "The South lost the war the day Jackson died."

That's all he said.

He obviously felt very strongly about that. I could tell from his eyes....intense....yes, intense...maybe a little wild....

Perhaps he's a bit drunk, I thought. Whatever, it was I was not comfortable, so I made my way out of that house as quickly and as gracefully as I could. After all, how long can you stare at an empty bed.

Besides...I couldn't get "those eyes"....those wild blue eyes...out of my mind. Also, those chills I often get at Civil War sites were working overtime.

A Ghost?  No. I don't believe in ghosts.





But, as I pulled out of the small parking lot...I did notice that there were no other cars there.

I guess he walked.

-Ed

So Long, Pluto

Clyde Tombaugh

As the spaceship New Horizons sinks slowly in the West, we say goodbye to the once proud planet Pluto (now but a mere Planetoid) and "Hello" to whatever else it can find way out there in the Kuiper belt.

Venetia Burney

Clyde Tombaugh was the young astronomer who discovered "Planet X"in 1930 (which was what it was called
until 11 year old Venetia Burney suggested the name "Pluto," to her father, who's good friend was a member of the astronomers in charge of naming planets.)

Pluto's Moiuntains

Clyde was on that New Horizons spaceship, by the way.  At least some of his ashes were. Information from this mission will be downloading for the next 9 months, so there may be a lot of "surprises" from the "by pass" of Pluto yet to come.  But two are already apparent:  there are mountains on Pluto, and there are no craters, such as those which are found on all the other planets. Scientists will have to come up with some explanation for that.

NASA  New Horizons Team

My hat's off to the NASA people who made this space mission so successful, and my eternal thanks to them for helping take my mind off  the mission here on earth by our President and Congress to............(fill in the blank)


And just in case, there are a few Americans left who are paying any attention at all to our out of control Government, a new diversion has just been introduced to the public:

Adult Coloring Books!

Adult Coloring Book

-Ed

An Oldie, But Goodie

With this nation's birthday coming up, I think it's a good time to "re-play" this classic from 1973.

This is about the country we grew up in, and loved.

The Americans

This editorial was broadcast from Toronto by Gordon Sinclair on 5 June 1973 as the United States was withdrawing from Vietnam. 

"This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as the most generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth. Germany, Japan and, to a lesser extent, Britain and Italy were lifted out of the debris of war by the Americans who poured in billions of dollars and forgave other billions in debts. None of these countries is today paying even the interest on its remaining debts to the United States. When the franc was in danger of collapsing in 1956, it was the Americans who propped it up, and their reward was to be insulted and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it.

"When earthquakes hit distant cities, it is the United States that hurries in to help. This spring, 59 American communities were flattened by tornadoes. Nobody helped. The Marshall Plan and the Truman Policy pumped billions of dollars into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those countries are writing about the decadent, war-mongering Americans.

"I'd like to see just one of those countries that is gloating over the erosion of the United States dollar build its own airplane. Does any other country in the world have a plane to equal the Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tri-Star, or the Douglas DC-10? If so, why don't they fly them? Why do all the International Airlines except Russia fly American planes? Why does no other land on earth even consider putting a man or woman on the moon?

"You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you get radios. You talk about German technocracy, and you get automobiles. You talk about American technocracy, and you find men on the moon — not once, but several times — and safely home again.

"You talk about scandals, and the Americans put theirs right in the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-dodgers are not pursued and hounded. They are here on our streets, and most of them, unless they are breaking Canadian laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at home to spend here.

"When the railways of France, Germany and India were breaking down through age, it was the American who rebuilt them. When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both are still broke. I can name you 5000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake.

"Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them get kicked around. They will come out of this thing with their flag high. And when they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that are gloating over their present troubles. I hope Canada is not one of those.

Stand proud, Americans!"


Sinclair published two autobiographies,  Will the Real Gordon
Sinclair Please Stand Up was published in 1966, followed in 
1975 by a sequel, Will Gordon Sinclair Please Sit Down.

Gordon Sinclair passed away in 1984.

-Ed