My Brother's Keeper

I was the oldest boy in the family, with my older sister Carol and two younger brothers, Brad and Tom (until 1961 when my youngest brother Bill was born, rounding out the squad to five siblings). The photo to the right is of myself (to the left), Carol, and Brad. Growing up it was Carol and the boys was not easy for me. As the only girl and oldest child, Carol enjoyed perks that her younger barbarian brothers were unworthy of. She got her own bedroom, while we boys had to bunk up with each other. She got her own private telephone line in her bedroom – I am not kidding. She also shared Mom and Dad’s bathroom, while we boys had to scrabble around together in “the boys’ bathroom”. Above all, she stayed indoors all day while we boys were kicked outside after breakfast and told not to come back inside until dinner.

I was the law among my brothers. I have not asked my brothers for their opinions, but as kids they would just as likely have considered me the evil dictator of a totalitarian state. Maybe so, but as the oldest boy, I saw myself as the world’s policeman, the arbiter of all disputes, who spoke softly but carried a big stick. The other two boys looked to me for direction, decisions, and inspiration. I chose the day’s activities for the three of us, whether it be climbing trees, digging a tunnel under the backyard patio, or setting fire to our model airplanes. Sometimes my plans were benign, like playing three-man baseball (a batter, a pitcher, and a fielder), while other ideas ended in stitches – like throwing rocks at each other to see who could come the closest to missing.

My brother Brad was two years younger than me, and two years older than Tom. Brad found himself somewhere in the neutral zone and the advocate of peace. Thanks to Mom’s unique fashion sense, Brad came to feel like the odd man out, in more ways than one. Because Brad and I were close in size, Mom sought to simplify clothing identification by buying Brad’s wardrobe in a contrasting color from Tom and me. For example, while Mom would buy three identical coats for us, my coat and Tom’s coat would be tan in color while Brad’s would be chocolate brown. The same would go for pants, shoes, and shirts. In a pile of clothes it was easy to spot which item was mine, but I am sure Brad did not feel like “a band of brothers”. This visual distinction no doubt contributed to his feeling of detachment. There was Larry and Tom, and then there was Brad.

If it appeared that Tom and I were a unified duo, the truth was quite something else. Four years my junior, Tom knew that he could not best me in actual combat to settle disputes, so he resorted to psychological warfare to level the battlefield. When locked in disagreement, he would taunt and provoke me with words until I could no longer suffer his insolence, and I would haul off and slug him. In righteous indignation, he would run to Mom: “Larry just hit me for no reason!” While Mom scolded me, Tom would stand behind her and stick his tongue out at me. My rage at his impudence only hardened my heart and steeled my determination for a more imaginative revenge.

The age of plastics had not quite found its way to all the little kitchen items we know today. In particular, the standard ice tray kept in the kitchen freezer was made of aluminum (unlike the plastic trays we use today), with a handle you lifted to crack open the individual cube compartments. If you remember these trays, you know how your fingers would stick to the tray if they were wet. Armed with this knowledge, my devious plan to get even with Tom’s wagging tongue was hatched. One afternoon I called out to Tom and showed him the frost that had gathered on the ice trays in the freezer. Pulling one of the trays out, I wondered out loud what the frost might taste like if you licked it off the bottom of the tray and invited Tom to try it. Naively, he laid his tongue on the tray.

Instantly his tongue froze to the tray and he erupted in pain at the shock of cold. Without thinking, he yanked the tray off his tongue, and with it came the entire top layer of his tongue. Blood immediately came pouring out of his mouth and he screeched in horror at the sight of it. Mom came running to the kitchen to Tom’s rescue, and quickly got to the bottom of my treachery. As swift as Tom’s injuries could be tended, my comeuppance was sure. At least Tom’s tongue was in no condition to wag at me while I got the lecture of my life.

With this backdrop of sibling hostilities, the family (minus Dad) was once again off to Disneyland for a day of pleasure. We were all under the age of ten, and Mom braced for the challenge of herding the bunch of us through the park. To help manage us kids, Mom announced the buddy system for the day: Carol and Brad would stick together and Tom and I would stick together. We were to keep an eye on each other to avoid separation. That way no one would wander off alone and get lost in the crowd. The concept was sound and seemed to work for the better part of the morning. That is until Tom announced that he had to go to the bathroom.

The nearest bathroom was located at the convergence of Adventureland and Frontierland, just across the street from the Enchanted Tiki Room. Mom escorted Tom and me to the entrance of the men’s restroom and gave us a thorough briefing. We were to both go into the bathroom together and come out together. Once outside, we were to stand at a specific spot where Mom would retrieve us. “I am going over to the Adventureland Gift Shop,” she told us, “So, if you don’t see me, just wait right here. Don’t go anywhere. I will be right back.” Clear enough to me.

The day saw the usual crowds, and for two kids like Tom and me, the sea of people made the task of identifying a specific person an almost impossible task. So, when Tom and I emerged from the restroom, we went to our assigned spot and looked for Mom. Sure enough, she was nowhere in sight. Throngs of people passed before us to the left and to the right, but no Mom. We stood there for what seemed like minutes, when Tom began to get agitated.

“Where is Mom?” he asked. “Are we lost?”

“No,” I assured him. “Mom told us to wait for her right here.”

“Well, where is she? Shouldn’t we go look for her?”

In that instant I saw my opportunity. “If you would like to go look for her, go right ahead,” I said, as I pointed to the crowd in front of us. “But I am staying here.”

“Well, I am going to go look for Mom,” he declared as he drifted into the haze of humanity. In a moment my waist-high brother was enveloped by the masses. I stood my ground, confident that Mom would be proud of me for following directions. I smiled with glee, certain that Tom would suffer for his actions.

In a moment or two Mom found me, and heaped praises on me for staying put. “Thank you for staying right where I told you to stay. Where’s Tom?”

“I don’t know,” I said righteously. “He just up and left.”

“He what?” she exploded.

This wasn’t going the way I expected. So I tried to put the best face on facts. “He decided to go looking for you. I told him that you told us to stay right here, and that’s what I did.”

“And you let him go?” Her eyes drilled right through me. If I wasn’t mistaken, I could swear that things had moved from praise to blame. With my arm in tow, Mom made a quick search of the immediate perimeter, with no luck. After retrieving Carol and Brad, she continued the fruitless search, and finally collapsed at the park’s lost and found station. For the next several hours we sat while an extensive search ensued. Brad and Carol were none too happy. We did not come to Disneyland to sit in a lost and found room. I felt everyone’s accusing eyes on me. This was not going as planned. Why was I under indictment? I was the one who had followed instructions and stayed put. It just didn’t seem fair.

Finally Tom was found and returned to his anxious mother, and she hugged and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in a long time. Then all eyes turned to me. And the unkindest cut of all – Tom stuck his tongue out at me.

Celebrity Sightings

As a kid I grew up in Los Angeles, and in the late 50’s and early 60’s I worshipped the Los Angeles Dodgers. I loved the listen to the exploits of Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills, Duke Snider, and Frank Howard. At night my ear was glued to my transistor radio to share in their next glorious victory or grieve their untimely defeat. I cheered Maury Wills in 1962 as he broke Ty Cobb’s record for the most stolen bases in one season – 104. I marveled at Sandy Koufax as he struck out batter after batter in his legendary perfect game in 1965. I hated Juan Marichal for clubbing Johnny Roseboro with his bat in a 1965 game. But I would say that my life seemed complete and I was ready for God to call me home in 1963 when the Dodgers beat the Yankees in the World Series in four straight games, with Koufax trouncing the Yankees in Games 1 & 4.

At the height of my devotion to the Dodgers, I learned that Frank Howard was to make a personal appearance in my home town, for autograph signings at Gemco, a giant grocery/department store. I circled the calendar and sold my soul to my mother in exchange for driving me to that event. I stood in the crowded parking lot with hundreds of other kids and their parents waiting for this Dodger legend to arrive, and waited, and waited, and waited. After two hours we heard the heart-piercing announcement that Frank Howard had to cancel. The drive back home was dark and bleak.

This was not the only time I was disappointed by a celebrity no-show. In high school I thrilled to the news that actor/comedian Bill Cosby was coming to our school with his celebrity basketball team to play our high school all-stars in an exhibition game before the entire student body. I loved watching him in the I-Spy TV series and could not wait to see him close up in person. On the day of the event the auditorium was packed, and we shot hoops as we waited for the arrival of our special guest. Then came the news – Cosby had to cancel. Another heart-breaker.

Those celebrities are an elusive bunch. When they are not making an appearance on Jay Leno to promote their next movie, it seems actors dodge the public or mingle in disguise to avoid recognition. I don’t know about you, but I have rarely seen a celebrity in public. One of my rare celebrity sightings was in 1992 in Las Vegas. My dad and I walked into the Las Vegas Hilton for a night at the craps table when we ran into none other than Robert Redford himself in the midst of filming “Indecent Proposal”. He paused between takes and looked right at me. I waved. He is a lot shorter than he appears on film. I also managed to get backstage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion where Charlton Heston was appearing in the Shakespeare play “Macbeth”. I got him to autograph his autobiography that I brought with me. That was quite a moment for me. It almost made up for the Frank Howard no-show years before.

One thing I love so much about Disneyland is that their celebrities are never camera-shy. I know that on any day at the Magic Kingdom I may see Winnie the Pooh or Sleeping Beauty walking down Main Street waving at the fans and posing for pictures. In the years when my kids were growing up, we have photographed them hugging Mickey and Minnie, Roger Rabbit, Goofy, the Chipmonks, the Three Little Pigs, Alice in Wonderland, and Cinderella. In fact,Disney hosts daily parades down Main Street to allow guests to see the whole stable of characters marching down the street. The closest Hollywood comes to that is the Red Carpet pre-show to the Academy Awards. But at the Red Carpet, guards are posted to make sure you don't get too close.

I know that for a period the poor Disney characters who wandered the park and added luster to the day got some abuse from overly aggressive kids who took advantage of the good natured costumed characters. For a time, the Disney characters were hard to find, as Disney employees objected to the hazards of walking the streets of the park unprotected. I used to know an old high school alum who worked the Disney costume gig for awhile, and he told some awful tales of kids actually hitting costumed characters because they knew the character had to remain in “character” and not retaliate. Thanks, kids - way to spoil a good thing! Demand for these celebrity sightings continued, and Disney began arming its characters with “bodyguards” to protect them from belligerent kids. That system continues today, which seems to work.

I have likened Disneyland celebrity sightings to the pastime of bird-watching, a hobby that gives certain bragging rights to those who spot the most elusive of winged creatures. My list of celebrity sightings at Disneyland is long and impressive. I have spotted Woody from Toy Story, the Mad Hatter, and even Cruella De Vil. Top that one if you can. On my last trip to Adventureland I encountered Aladdin and Jasmine strolling past the Jungle Cruise hand-in-hand. I may never shake hands with my idol Sandy Koufax, but I can rub shoulders with my favorite characters at Disneyland any day of the week.