KTVU Anchor Frank Summerville Lectures at SFSU Pictures from New Creative Arts Bldg at SFSU Ground breaking
https://www.simplertimeandplacethebesteraever.com/2018/10/
Pictures From the New Creative Arts Groundbreaking at SFSU & Housekeeping
I am back this Saturday, and i am having trouble logging-into my gmail account using the ipad that has the pictures of Mr. Somerville, and I am not going to let it force a password change!
...can you believe they want access to all of my pictures in order to log-in? Has this happened to anyone of you too?
No time for that Globalist crap from Google,,,I get enough of their censorship to contend with through their algorithm manipulation!
So you guys [sic] will have to settle for just the groundbreaking photos for now, okay?
Homework demands attention tonight, but a blog/story should be posted soon.
Here are the groundbreaking and luncheon pics...
DMD
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on October 30, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
The Sixties Start in Earnest: JFK Blown Away Peter Paul and Mary
Hey Everyone,
It is 9:30 PM, and I just got back from my Social Media for Professionals class at CCSF or as we call it in our utopia of the furthest left city of the USA, Free City. That said, it works for me to be able to enroll as a resident of SF and pay zero tuition.
Let us get to brass tacks, shall we?
Last off on the blog regarding the LA Teachers Strike (1970), I eluded to having some cultural or historic insight into that last year or two--late 1963 through the early Summer of 1965--living as a child here at 280 30th Avenue in San Francisco. In retrospect, my memories are faint and fleeting, however significant in shaping of my life, politics, patriotism, and understanding of the emerging world around me.
First, let us address the day I had the first memory of my life:
Oftentimes, at least in my parent's day, people referred-to "Where were you when you learned of President Kennedy being assassinated?" much as people who were old enough to process the events of 9-11 now reference that fateful [and I might add that story also never added-up from the beginning] day.
Here is the rub...I had just turned three-years-old in October of 1963 and do not remember the events of November 22nd of that year; however, I remember being in our family room--okay, it was Sea Cliff and my Father of thirty-eight-years-old was already well established in his television career with over seven years in the early-to-mid nineteen-fifties, working for KTLA 5 and NBC in the Los Angeles.
Later, returning to SF where he had worked at KGO TV 7, in it's infancy, 1951, Willard S. Davis Jr. went on to became the Associate Producer of the Don Sherwood Show...little cloudy on that one, he may have been the director, but the answers to this lay in his archive at the California State Library in Sacramento.
In 1960, shortly before my birth [Now-a-days, everyone wants to say, "Oh....Sea Cliff" but it was really a quite modest three bedroom and if memory serves--two bath or two & a-half bath home] my parents returning after five years in Hollywood.
...just a couple houses north of California, it was devoid of any kind-of view, but we walked down to the beach and GG Bridge regularly]
Anyhow, it is so weird and this first memory seemed to be just that--the first recollection of one's life--yet by my late twenties and certainly my early thirties when I began to become a political activist--this hazy memory became a focus in significance; how odd it is that my first memory out of all of the day-to-day goings-on of a three year old would be the tragic events surrounding a political leader.
This first memory of my childhood was of the nationally televised funeral of our 35th president, John Fitzgerald Kennedy; later, the Beatles broadcast live and singing the hit, "All you Need is Love" over the Summer of '67--or of Love as we think of it here in SF--was the first international satellite broadcast live event. Transmitted some almost four more years away, and broadcast...as NBC used to say, "In Living Color."
Notably, I remember the flicker-rate on that old black-and- white Zenith brand television as clear as it was unclear, if that makes sense. Perhaps, as young children who have imaginary friends and vivid nightmares of crying and sitting-up with mother convinced there had been a horrible man with a dagger in my closet or under my bed--these memories or our connection to other dimensions are weened from us by the age of five, six, or seven; in this context, I think the flicker rate is more apparent to the young (?). Yet, I can remember looking around that room; the totally cool wish I-had-it-now mid-century light fixture--like the old Zenith, it too--would grace my teenage bedroom years later in Carmichael, CA and the importance Dad placed on explaining how we had had the leader of our country taken from us.
The horse drawn carriages on the Capitol Mall, the 21-gun salute to a WW II Veteran of PT Boat heroics, the grieving Jackie, Caroline, and of course, John-John saluting the coffin as it proceeded by the First Family, no more, stars & stripes blowing in the wind.
I often ponder my interests in conspiracy theory or what we now are fortunate enough to have finally dragged into the cleansing sunshine of the new mainstream, the Deep State; reading books in my teens [Jim Mars' Executive Action and Mark Lane's Rush to Judgement] that questioned the official narrative of November 22nd, my enlistment in the US Army Infantry as an ardent anti-communist, and political activism that led to my nomination and run for an Oregon US House seat in 2006 seem as if they are tied to that day, in some regard. As Elton John once sang, "...since the day that I was born I waved the flag..."
Why was this day of such national importance my first memory along with heading down California Street earlier that morning to have my right-arm-cast removed at our doctor's office? Looking at the trolleys--the streets largely devoid of cars--my mother remarking how vacant and lacking traffic and citizens, the City looked as we bore-down California towards town?
...a bit of background: My Mother and I had been hit by another car in our 1962 Chevy Nova earlier in the month (?) by an "Oriental" [sic] as they put it...complete with some bullshit from Willard about "the Japs" [sic] having had not been industrialized long-enough [yes, I actually remember this conversation too, with my Father continuing,] "...to be able to drive well-enough." Willard went on to then equivocate: "This, Son, is why we won World War II" or something along those lines.
Really Willard? What about Japanese Mitsubishi built Zeros that out-flew their Angelo-Saxon built British Spitfires and P-41 Mustangs? Nice try!
I only bring this up not to incite or make anyone upset, but it is really amazing to me to see how differently many spoke in those days; actually, my parents were always slow to evolve regarding my two oldest sisters coming of age in the late 1960s, towards decades-end regarding what was then coined as the generation gap as well as racial relations. They really were not that bad. We are West Coast People, yet, it was just how they put things.
The irony is lost on me regarding my insistence to not be politically correct. Difference being, I know this to be the case, they did not!
Thankfully, we were taught to respect people of all races and backgrounds, and so-on. Any kind of derogatory talk or use of the N' word in or around our home--referencing this or what had been the racist statement in the early sixties talk in regards to the car accident as a child in SF-- would later-on in the 1970s be met with a strong rebuke and sit-down chat on how "We do NOT use that kind of language," and strive for equality in opportunity for all, etc.
They did evolve along with the Bunkers' of All in the Family--we all did.
Yet, get 'em around Uncle Devin and Aunt Bunny and their guard came down when the booze flowed at the cabin, for instance--even Creme-de-mint for the kids via snow cones if we were good--and political discourse was usually peppered not so much with racial slurs, but ethnic chides, and a good measure of better by virtue of their skin-color nonsense from Bunny and Devin, mostly.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strawberry,_El_Dorado_County,_California
It seemed as if a man who had taken my Grandfather's plumbing contracting company to a point or size where he employed twenty-five-to thirty people--many of whom were minorities--there still was a pass on what some said in private in those days.
Retreating to the main room with the fireplace, us kids would play poker, fool around with a pedal-driven grand organ, and the record player setting the right vibe as the snow slowly piled up covering the windows at times. We just largely ignored their shortcomings; after all and what I always liked to say when I was a maintenance man [usually, if I was stumped on a plumbing repair in a tenants' bathroom, for instance] "Don't worry, I come from a long-line of alcoholic plumbers!"
So, they did change as the years unfolded:
Albeit slowly, and their partaking at the cabin facilitated with ease--what was to become my older sisters' and cousins,' increasingly main mission in their teen years:
Gauging how much alcohol could be siphoned-off for the end of the trip, raiding the liquor cabinet late after everyone had gone to bed or early in the morning. Oftentimes, wrapping-up at Echo Summit or Sierra Ski Ranch with a teenage drinking binge before taking those last few runs and heading back to the valley. This started to become a thing as we entered the mid-nineteen-seventies, at least for the older kids, anyway; I watched them scheme, meticulously, using what were then glass Skippy brand peanut butter jars people kept around to store or freeze left-overs. Having had 1/4 -1 and 2 cup embossed or etchings on the jar, it was easy for them to add each day--undetected.
However, watering-down booze bottles was not an option within the Davis' household; indisputably, we are legion for not only being known for our iron-clad livers, but can sense a weak drink, instinctively!
Performing these duties late at night or early in the morning up-until the last day skiing at which time there would be several of these episodes adding to what their partners-in-crime also poured-off from their parents; Alan Larson's family who had a place at Heavenly Valley comes to mind among other regulars from our Big Valley--following what was often four, or five days at the cabin:
Usually, a big blow-out would ensue.
After side-stepping high above the puma-lift, rope-tows, and later Echo's single chairlift for the privacy they sought--myself tagging along as long as I was considered cool. Onward, we side-steeped, some in cross-country skis' just for the occasion as opposed to alpine, towards the rocks crags of the peak [I think that was the actual Echo Summit, but something tells me it was across the pass/highway on the Pyramid Peak side, Desolation Wilderness?]
I will never forget Larson peeing allover everyone's skis in the basement of Echo's lodge once we came back down, drunken fifteen year-old he was; shocked...shocked, I tell you!
By then, Alan had great potential having trained under Spider Sabich, the 1968 Winter Olympic Skier.
Spider Sabich Learned to ski at the Even Smaller Edelweiss Between the Cabin and Echo Summit
Mater of fact, my oldest cousin, Mo, was even in contention for making the Nationals for the US Ski Team at some point and also skied with Sabich. Even in those days, you needed to lock-up things at Squaw Valley, Kirkwood, or Heavenly--not Echo!
...unfortunately, your gear was, however, vulnerable to be pissed-on by over indulgent teens!
Moreover, you needed to not live in what the regulars or those residing in the Sierra or Tahoe basin referred-to as the Flatlands: Sacramento or the Bay Area.
If one had any hope of making the US Nationals, let alone the Olympics, then one required daily training in the theater of USA Skiing: Colorado, Idaho, or The Sierra. Thankfully, my Uncle Devin, Mo, and Scott,[and later Tracy which pissed me off as she was two years younger and a girl! My how times have changed] had patience with their uncoordinated SoCal cousin turned Sacrament-an.
By the early 1970s, I had advanced to intermediate runs, briefly skiing expert runs, however ungracefully by my mid-to late-teens; Tracy went on to become employed at Echo for a number of seasons as a Ski School Instructor and member of Echo Summits Ski Patrol in the early-to-mid eighties.
I can still see Mo now on those brown Rossignol Skis with Look Nevada bindings, and just too cool for all the ski-bunnies. By the early 1970s, he was to be in a committed relationship with his once fourteen year-old love of his life, Viki Pilar--soon to be his wife of close to sixty years,
The Powers that be Might want to make a law against that, but you also might want to check with their three quite successful grown children--all approaching forty, first.
...then again, you might have your gear pee-ed on by the lightening fast, jump-taking, incorrigible Alan Larson who by that time was living at Heavenly--for training purposes--to take a stab at making the US Olympic Team. I once lived in a world were I too was a child free of worry, despite bomber alerts at nearby Mather AFB, happily building forts along the America River.
...really Echo was more fun and anything goes which is why Bunny and Devin gravitated towards the family oriented or good-old-boy atmosphere culture of bring your own sandwiches and cooler of Bush Beer--of course--aspects of the once family run ski area.
Back to the story ADHD Man:
I do still recall descending the grade from the Avenues' towards downtown on California this same day of the JFK funeral and my Mother saying how the streets were empty as most people had not gone to work, staying home to mourn and watch the live telecast of the funeral in DC.
It was after the removal of the cast for my broken right arm, that this poignant conversation with my Father--explaining the importance of our leader being struck-down in his prime--then transpired as we watched the procession and placing of the casket in the rotunda of the DC Capitol.
Which brings me back to Peter Paul and Mary and the also rather faint recollection of a conversation in our Sea Cliff living room regarding the song, "Puff the Magic Dragon." The popularity of both this and the song "Blowing in the Wind," "If I had a Hammer" and other folk songs as acoustic and the bohemian or beatnik culture and music would soon give way to electric guitar as the British Invasion was about ready to unfold; the culture--San Francisco and NYC's Greenwich Village yielding to what was about to change dramatically.
"...You dig, Man?"
This is why I often refer to the fact that decades cannot be easily packaged or demarcated by their end of the "9" or even "0" year, historically.
...life just does not work that way.
Point being, in the late Fall of 1963, Peter Paul and Mary would have two songs in the top 10 of the Billboard Magazine Hot 100--American Top 40--that had just eclipsed my parent's era's chart, and weekend best-of radio show, Your Hit Parade as the new standard of measurement of music sales and air-play in the United States. Easy Listening and/or Middle of the Road [MOR] as a format on radio continued but as the Stones' said, "The change has Come..."
Beatlemania had begun to unfurl in the fall of 1963 and would become firmly ensconced in 1964.
That said, I touched on my show, Simpler Time and Place, this week about what had been my first talk about drugs in the culture and this "Puff the Magic Dragon" that was anything but a children's song!
As I remember, the talk--I do not really remember the word drugs being used and I was largely an observer as my sisters listened; yet, my parents explaining that puff had to do with inhaling marijuana, the Dragon being synonymous with drag-in--and that this was a threat to civil society, Continuing, these were "...issues of right and wrong, and the country, 'going-to-pot'" as my Mother put it. In fact, they always referred to "how liberal San Francisco had become" once we put-down-roots in West Los Angeles, practically in Governor Reagan's Pacific Palisades Heights, backyard.
In retrospect, the lyrics of "...little Jackie Paper" was a reference to the Zig-Zag Man of French rolling paper fame, and so-on.
The Country's culture was heading towards a revolutionary change--later to reach a pinnacle in the streets of Chicago in 1968--predicated upon the Flower Power of '66, simultaneous shift on television to Living Color, followed by the events of 1967: The Summer of Love.
Actually, the jumping-off point was considered by many historians to have been in the Fall of 1964. Across the Bay at Cal, the free speech protests of a burgeoning youth culture, sit-ins, trapped squad cars and all, unfolded in UC Berkeley's Sproul Plaza
Earlier in the Summer of 1964 at the Republican National Convention at the Cow palace in Daly City, Barry Goldwater accepted the nomination and would go on to lose in a dramatic landslide to LBJ:
Goldwater Accepts 1964 Republican Nomination
Hence, and evidence of the societal shift leftward, George Christopher would soon hold the distinction of being known as the last Republican Mayor of San Francisco about the same time.
These pictures are on display at the Greek Orthodox Church G. Christoper Sport Facility just a stone's-throw away on Brotherhood Way:
[Pending]
Leading the way--I do say this knowing LA soon thereafter this period would become the heartbeat nationally & culturally of the US, following the Summer of Love to a great extent--were the City's bohemian-cultural-heartbeat of North Beach and emerging Haight neighborhoods. However, the choices presented in 1964 really were the demarcation of old vs. new, a seminal moment for SF. Goldwater in his acceptance speech at the Cow Palace stated, "Extremism in the Defense of Liberty is No Vice" going on to state a confrontational approach to countering the spread of communism was the choice before the nation, thereby the world. Goldwater continuing on stating, "...and let me remind you, also, that 'moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.'"
A nation just off the very real jitters of the Cuban Missile Crisis rejected his rhetoric--the only aired once "Daisy TV Ad" depicting-pedals-picked off a flower as only through a child's-eyes' a serialized or fear-mongering thermos-nuclear explosion helped usher in the Great Society-era of LBJ.
As a one term president who would not seek reelection in 1968 as Vietnam escalated on his watch, significant gains for blacks and social justice through passage of the Civil Rights Act (1964), Food Stamp Act (1964) and LBJ's appointments to SCOTUS--resulted in an almost two-decades long lock- or tradition of liberalism. The Warren Court's affect on matters before the courts' jurisprudence, legacy, and precedent cemented in decisions such as Griswold v. Connecticut (1965) [right to use birth control (later the ruling a key argument for the Right to Privacy paving the way for Roe v Wade (1973)] Miranda v. Arizona (1966) [Self Incrimination/Right to Remain Silent], and Loving v. Virginia (1966) [interracial marriage], and of course, as mentioned, Roe v. Wade (1973).
https://www.oyez.org/cases/1965/759
https://www.oyez.org/cases/1964/496
https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=false&doc=97
https://www.oyez.org/cases/1966/395
https://www.oyez.org/cases/1971/70-18
In closing, Simpler Time and Place is a good-time-party-machine kind of program with the music, storytelling, and companion blog epitomizing a bygone era; a show positioned in countering the stress of the tragic news-cycle, the daily Trumpian' gaffes, our divisions among the newcomers and the old-timers, if you will; a break from the constant stress or madness of senseless shootings, mayhem, and forward thinking in these times of chaos.
Somehow as we usher out the old, I am sure this can and will end well--eventually--as we move forward, together towards a New Age. Yet, much like the events of today and this presidency, we do not live in a vacuum and the times we live in and choices we make moving forward are as historical--even more so I would suggest--as those of the mid-to late 1960's.
Foremost, as a Libertarian who believes in absolute personal liberty and the right to do as we wish with our own bodies and personal choices as long as we are not infringing or impeding on others personal liberties, this precipice of time offers boldly stepping into a decisive decision-making-time:
Hence, as a Jeffersonian--I am old and my opinion carries less weight with each passing day--it is up to the people of this nation and to a larger extent this emerging order, how they want to live and be governed; it is my greatest hope that we can do so in a civil, respectful, and loving way.
This is the gift we give to the world as San Franciscans', Bay Area Folk, Californians' and Citizens of--dare I say--the World as mankind moves forward, the Nation-State yielding to what this next generation has in mind:
The right to self-determination should and shall always belong to We the People.
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on October 23, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
2018 Bay Area Radio Hall of Fame Luncheon Pictures
Hey there everyone,
I promised pictures from the Bay Area Radio Hall of Fame luncheon from the previous weekend, and I will be whipping-out another blog post--true to the retro nature of the program--prior to my show Wednesday morning.
Key to my mission was to network with business cards, pay homage to some of the giants of our industry, and to just have a day away from campus and my studies.
By the same logic, I am really trying to start transitioning to a more-normal way of life away from campus for at least one full day a week, resume taking in museums and events, and maybe even cultivate a relationship.
The heavy lifting is now over--I damn near pushed that 3.56 GPA up to a 3.6 just needing maybe two more letter grades of an A' but, hey--the exponential nature of GPA and how much harder one must work to move it at this point is now pretty much set-in-stone. Having been doing nothing but scholarly endeavors the last 5.5 years, it seems to be all I know, anymore; that said, switching gears with my paid student worker position in the ProTools or CA 40 Lab several days a week, once again bell-ringing for my church this holiday season, and having some companionship seem like positive transitional endeavors.
I do want to get into the building as we say regarding one of these big media groups, however; also, wanting to make sure I am not put down into some windowless room trying to edit audio nor becoming chained to a digital audio workstation all day--is not what I worked so hard to achieve!
Obviously, I have a rather unique skill-set, am almost tracker or show ready in this market--right-out the gate--as evidenced on Simpler Time and Place and my growing volume of VO work. Unlike most all of my BECA Colleagues, over a half decade of previous employment in the industry should give me a jump on the competition.
Admittedly, those with a wide range of video and audio prowess and although I now get social media, for the most part, others have the upper-hand for those kinds of entry level jobs.
I want to keep options open regarding finding some venture capitol and taking this act the small business route, voice-over-wise.
No matter what the future holds, I want to make sure if I am offered employment at one of the huge remaining conglomerates/station groups, I can also produce VO side-work to bring in the additional needed income to meet rent [I smell a big write-off on rent as say 35-40% can be written-off on a master bedroom with a bath as "studio and office space,"] pay on student loans, and resume at least a lower-middle class lifestyle in a year or two.
Okay, here are the pics:
A precursor to KBLX, KDIA built a legendary reputation not only within the black community, but throughout the industry far beyond the Bay Area.
Apparently, the radio with pictures crowd had an event the same day. I would have liked to have seen Gary Gereald who was at KCRA 3, forever.
His colleague, Mike Boyd’s son, Greg Boyd, also graduated in Rio’s Class of 78; matter of fact, he had a couple of those huge multiple kegger-parties referred to to in previous blog posts regarding the madness of experiencing high school in the late ‘70s.
Here was the all-star line-up for induction into BARHOF Class of 2018
Don Sherwood’s legacy is enduring to say the least; according to my Father,
so was his legendary drinking episodes! Willard had worked--I think as an associate producer--on the live TV show of the same name in the nineteen fifties.
I was blessed to have requested a seat at the California Historical Radio Society
table; moreover, the events Master of Ceremonies, Terry McGovern of KSAN fame, joined CHRS President, Steve Kushman.
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on October 22, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Boys Will Be...Not So Bright [here is the promised LA Teachers' Strike story]
Hi Everyone,
Last week, I eluded to the LA Teachers Strike of 1970 and how it may have initiated what was still a holdover from the 1950s headlines blaring, "Comic Books are Leading to Juvenile Delinquency" scare. Apparently, there still was some accountability regarding misbehaving as a child in stark contrast to what would be going-on parenting wise by the mid-to-late 70s. It went something like this:
If you catch your kid in a solo--yet sexually compromising situation--finding-out about them acting in some inappropriate way, or being involved in some form of questionable behavior, sexually?
...just discuss it among the three of you [back then, parenting was pretty much a two-parent endeavor] difficult it will be to approach the problem using phrases such as "Maybe this is just a 'stage' that he or she is going through?" In retrospect, I imagine the folks to have had conversations including these types of phrases:
"Well, this kind of things went on for eons...after all, nothing is new under the sun, and the damage from confronting the kid about this could cause psychological problems." Then, there was my Oldest Sister Shawna's favorite, "Boys Will Be Boys" pointing to how The Baby got cut a little extra slack.
...I better be careful, I know we are not allowed to say that last one anymore!
What I am saying here--and my parents being nearly a carbon-copy of Ronnie and Nancy [Reagan, if you are a Cali who is under forty or a relative new arrival to my ancestral homeland] is there was an obvious double-standard regarding gender that the libertine late-to-mid seventies only exasperated.
My Mom and Dad were seemingly always stricter than my classmate's parents; after all, it was the era of Dr. Spock [Google it people...not going into it, here.] They were not hands-offish in their style of parenting and disciplinary issues ultimately were administered by Willard--not Adair. If one were acting-out--to use a helicopter mom phrase from the late '80s and '90s--it was usually met with a backhand or a bit of a chase around the olive tree in our Brentwood, SoCal patio. If not around, Adair would lock-in-the-radar on the boy's hair and give it a yank to get my attention; consequently, I dummy-ed-up and went with a butch haircut!
"...What-da-u gonna do now?"
For the record, when my Father would hear about a neighborhood kid not being punished for their exploits, Willard would shift into his mocking Jewish accent and exclaim, "Indulge, Indulge, Indulge," or some other inappropriate characterization.
...Oh my God...my continued hold-over or use of sexual innuendo in digital, print, or on KSFS may be deemed just as inappropriate to my colleagues in this context, nowadays, no?
Good Lord, I have become Willard!
So, now that we have some context, the country was quickly coming full-circle in softening support towards the Vietnam War; tumult of 1968 and a '69 fading-fast, we switched onto forced [Warren Court] school busing to address racial inequalities and the LA Teachers' Strike was another one of these "Liberal" things my Father always pointed-to when he needed a boogieman. However, for many of us who must have been in fifth grade by then, this became a perfect opportunity to learn how to ditch class! Hence, when asking about all of our missing classmates, our teachers--out walking the picket-line--would explain, "Oh, their parents must be supporting the strike."
And so it starts.
At first we nervously approached Mrs. Barshap and the others, blurting-out, "Our parent's have decided to support the strike." Don't know if they believed what my Father would characterize as a bunch of "Commie-crappola," but they all but patted us on the head as we broke through the picket-line. First, it was a relatively safe excursion or recon-mission resulting in buying candy at a corner store; next, my friends and I progressed to crossing San Vicente Boulevard which escalated into stopping and chatting with number 66' of the LA Rams,' Rosey Grier, across from the Brentwood Golf Course. Rosey was known to jog along the center-median of San Vicente wearing his blue and gold jersey.
Finally, we graduated into taking-off a few hours a day for things like impromptu flag football games with six or seven of our classmates.
...only problem?
This was taking place on Bobby Moore's roof...What could go wrong?
Boys will be Boys!
A one story house and Mrs. Moore being a recent divorcee or otherwise single-mom who was no doubt at work in a valiant effort to keep the home [see I have grown-up...I do not know this to be the story in her case, yet I just see so much stupidity in this entire plan we hatched that I am realizing what a rotten kid I could be!] You would think eluding or running away from getting your flag pulled--and the resulting one-story fall onto LA's ever present concrete--would be enough to cause permanent brain damage or paralysis from one of the most uncoordinated kids Brentwood Elementary ever produced would be obvious--it wasn't. One would think, tripping over those guy-wires that anchor the TV antenna on three sides several times already or skinning your knee on the roof gravel would give a ten-year-old pause--no clue!
And then disaster struck: Jumping-up to catch a pass, Drake comes down on one of the aforementioned guy-wires, snapping the TV antenna in half...and "Houston, we have a problem."
...oh, wait: Apollo 13 hadn't happened yet!
Anyhow, these were still the days of TV Repairman [sic] still being necessary, laying in the LA smog-filled sun with aluminum foil reflecting off-of a book from the folk's book shelves while slathered in Ban-de-Sole' suntan gel mixed with iodine infused Johnson's Baby Oil. Dare I say, our parents did customarily roll-down [or at least crack wing-windows if it was uncharacteristically raining] while they experienced Salem Menthol tobacco pleasure. Nevertheless, if there was even a slight chance of sprinkles--the three of us would be seat-belted--yet, gasping for breath in the back seat with now only wing-windows deployed!
Did I leave-out running around the neighborhood or The Gully? One time, our Mother turned us loose spending the day with a metal 5x7 Pyrex baking pan--contents of this morning's broken thermometer's mercury making for an impromptu science lesson.
My Goodness...Mercury for Kids?
...How about some Lawn Darts in the soon to come 1970s, Mother? No wonder I was diagnosed as a hyperactive kid soon thereafter! And, to think Adair graduated from CAL--Class of 1948--what was she thinking!
Long story short and getting back to the rooftop fiasco, Willard and Adair were pretty steamed over the busted antenna, and I think this resulted in what had to have been my first grounding; moreover, the TV Repairman [sic] hit them with a bill for about $ 71.00. How I remember these details--hell, I don't know. It may have $63.00 for installing a new VHF antenna, but I was going to get paddled--again--for this one!
Yet, sometimes when I look back to all the stupid things I did as a kid and especially as a young adult--huge risk taker with street rods on the streets of Sacramento, for example. it really amazes me that I am still here to talk about it. Later, my squad and the entire platoon for that matter, used to think I was completely reckless with the M113 Armored Vehicle. Taking down small trees in the German countryside, tearing-up some planted crops in pursuit of imaginary [it is a field exercise people, thus realistic training] enemy comes to mind along with everyone evacuating the track as it teetered-on a mountainside of either Graffunfer or Vielflicken, Western Germany [Sgt. Dominguez got us out of that one!]
Or, the time I flipped Mom's 72 Dodge Colt end-over-end coming back from South Lake Tahoe on US 50. Guess those tires I made bald by doing one wheel burn-outs in that car with all of seventy-eight horsepower didn't yield a positive result in the long-run, you think?
In my late teens, twenties, something always drove me to bolt, as my Mother put it, up US 50 or I 80 in route to Tahoe--the resulting charge that the mountains or High Sierra always delivered--where I spent so much time as a kid--seems hard to explain, even at this age. Preferring to spend my time, choosing the inland Coast Range or Sierra of California, most-of-the-time, over the Coast. Hell, currently, I live two or three miles from Ocean Beach, yet the idea of going there rarely comes to mind; what people in the Midwest would do to slap some sense into me right now, right?
I still heard about that last stunt in the '72 Dodge [Mitsubishi] Colt well into my forties--all the while sending mom and dad a couple hundred every other month or so. At some point--on any trip back to the Sac in the Aughts with them now living in an apartment in Citrus Heights and Man, did Dad hate the idea of people knowing he had that zip code of what my on-air nick-name for the suburb once referred to as Syphilis Heights!
I can still hear him now, "That car had 40,000 miles on it" [End-of 1981 when rolled] You ruined a perfectly good little '72 Dodge Colt!"
Guess there is a God or at least a guardian angel.
Next week? I am thinking we will touch on the emergence of the 1960s really getting rolling around the end of 1963 [Kennedy] or 1964, our last full year here in San Francisco.
What prompted this? Well, I was listening to a full hour of Simpler Time and Place from last Spring, in order to improve, this week.
I had talked about Peter Paul and Mary's song, "Puff the Magic Dragon" being anything but a children's song; hence, the lyrics of "...little Jackie Paper" [Zig-Zag Man] and the magic was in the drag-in! Anyhow, I was doing show prep this morning, and saw that it was in this month in 1963 that Peter Paul and Mary had two hits in the Top 40...I am guessing "Blowing in the Wind" was the other one; seemed like we were always singing that out at 30th & California--our parents worried-look of us becoming beatniks--hippies hadn't been invented yet.
Also, San Francisco's last Republican Mayor, George Christopher was leaving office soon and get this: The Republican National Convention was at the Cow Palace in 1964. Barry Goldwater gave his speech, "...Extremism in Defense of Liberty is No Vice..." in venue just across the county line in Daly City.
That anti-communist rhetoric rallied the Dems' in opposition leading to the famous Daisy TV ad--only running once in prime-time was it enough to rattle a nation's nerves, the Cuban Missile Crisis still a fresh memory--ushering in President Johnson's Great Society and solidifying the liberal Warren Court.
Speaking of my Forest Gump life:
What do you think are the odds that I would meet the mid-sixties SF mayor's daughter, Kate Shelley? Her father was a one-term mayor after Christopher, and I befriend her just a few months after enrolling at State? No crap, she is one of my best friends here and lived next door to my former mid-rise tower, 265 Buckingham Way, at UPN North where I lived in Fall 2016-Spring 2017 Semester.
Lets do a blog post on Kate and her Father, Mayor John F. (Jack) Shelly (1964-1968] and how I got all of these historical pictures of Mayor Christopher with world leaders by attending The Greek Orthodox Church over off of Brotherhood, last year.
....stay tuned, people!
I have a history of meeting presidents, getting nominated to run for congress, and being on the radio--professionally--five separate times. If anybody can pull this off one more time, it is Drake Davis.
...bet that!
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on October 16, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Going to Bay Area Radio Hall of Fame Event and The LA Teachers Strike (1970)
Hi Everyone,
Golly-gee-whiz, my last post while substantial was posted or started on 9/26?
I don't know folks, I added and then finished-up the Sacto swimming part--adding another 750 words less than a week ago, and apologize for not being timely.
I have a whole new world unfolding before me as a result of all of my hard work and God's grace; tomorrow, newly updated biz cards in pocket, I will be in suit and tie for heading to the Bay Area Radio Hall of Fame [BARHOF] luncheon; in this instance, KSFO's Brian Sussman is to receive the prestigious Don Sherwood Award, and I am looking forward to meeting him, Co-host Katie Green, among others.
My work continues at the Stonestown McDonald's tonight. I was to extrapolate about my then --Brentwood Elementary--Teacher's Strike [1970] experience in relation to the '68 SFSU strike. Actually, this may have been the demarcation-point into my rather mild decent into what was still referred to as Juvenile delinquency!
So super busy with internship and job searches, still have three classes with the two at SF City College, and am really trying to immerse myself in ProTools.
That said, please enjoy a piece of earlier writing that fits along the lines of Simpler Time & Place in the following post. I will be searching through my archives to find outstanding papers to add to my SFSU eportfolium and will post by the end of the weekend
[Amended AM 10.19.2018: I posted a juicy blog on the LA Teachers' Strike and the opportunities--mistakes actually--made by cutting class! Also, I will be adding pictures and artifacts from the BARHOFF luncheon...and yes, I did met Sussman and Green among other Bay Area Radio Legends!]
Drake
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on October 12, 2018 No comments:
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
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Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
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