Childhood Memories

I just heard yesterday that Jack Wild passed away. For anyone who is under the age of 35, you won't know who Jack Wild was, unless you've seen his performance as the Artful Dodger in the movie version of Oliver! But when I was a kid, he was a huge star on par with Bobby Sherman, Donny Osmond, and Davy Jones of the Monkees (another small Brit).

Jack was also the star of the kids show HR Pufnstuf one of the weirdest shows on television. It was a weird combination of The Wizard of Oz, and Puff the Magic Dragon. Looking back on it now, it definitely felt like the writers were smoking something in the Writer's Room.

Jack Wild played Jimmy who had a magic flute named Freddie that could talk and play tunes on its own. One day he gets on a magic talking boat that promised to take him on an adventure. The boat belonged to a Witchiepoo the witch, who used the boat to kidnap Jimmy and take him to her home base on Living Island, where she hoped to steal Freddie for her own nefarious purposes. Fortunately Jimmy was rescued by the island's mayor, a six foot dragon named H.R. Pufnstuf. After Jimmy is rescued by Pufnstuf and his two deputies, Kling and Klang, his adventures begin as well as his attempts to get back home.

Sound familiar. Truthfully, while I used to watch the show religiously every Saturday, it kind of creeped me out. And the puppets reminded me of the old McDonald's commericals with Mayor McCheese and the Hamburgler.

I remember this one song that Witchiepoo sang called, Orange Porange.

Anyway, Jack Wild like a lot of childstars had a rocky time once he got older and stopped being quite as cute. He was also apparently a heavy drinker which took a toll on him, as well as a smoker. He actually died of cancer of the mouth. The pictures of what he looked like at the end are so sad, it breaks your heart.

His death follows that of Don Knotts who I adored as a child watching the Andy Griffith show, and Dennis Weaver who played McCloud.

Everytime I read about an author or a star that I admired growing up, it's like a piece of my life is going with them. The hours of enjoyment that they provided, and the knowledge that they're now just a memory or an image resonates with me. It's one of the things that sucks about growing up, because as I'm getting older so are they.

Sometimes it's shocking when I see Mickey Dolenz, Barry Gibb or Davy Jones today. I remember what they looked like when I was a kid. And I still think in my mind that they should look like that.

Arrgh, it must be Friday, if I'm waxing nostalgic.