Monday, October 15, 2012

THE OLE' ONE-TWO

There was a time when baseball was the “National Pastime.” Not anymore. That distinction now belongs to football. Not the football that the rest of the world knows as soccer, but the football that involves very large, very strong men running into each other like Mack trucks meeting head-on while driving full speed towards each other. I used to LOVE baseball. As a kid, we played every day. Whether we had enough players or not was irrelevant. We would simply “call our field,” meaning that, being a left handed batter, I had to hit to right field or it was an automatic out. Football took size and strength, neither of which I possessed, but, I could hit a baseball and I could pitch and catch a baseball and I was pretty quick. We were emotionally invested in our favorite baseball teams. We collected baseball cards, listened to games on the radio and sat in front of our TV sets wearing our favorite team's garb while cheering them on, often wearing a glove as well because you just never knew if, maybe, a foul ball might fly through the screen. It was pretty evident that none of us was going to go on to become a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist. I was in the precarious position of living smack dab between New York City and Boston, so the Yankees/Red Sox debate raged through the neighborhood – even through families. I vividly remember my grandmother smoking Luckies and cursing at Don Zimmer for making what she considered to be a stupid decision as the Red Sox manager. I stopped watching baseball when it became a home run derby controlled by steroids. The players got bigger and stronger and no longer played for “the love of the game.” Now they play for money and if you strip them of their uniforms and put them in pads and helmets – you've got a football team. My favorite sport is boxing. I'll take boxing over baseball any day of the week. Yes it takes strength to be a good boxer, but, it's much more like a chess game where each participant has to anticipate his opponents next move and take the proper precautions in order not to get hit while attempting to slip his glove through the other guys defenses to try and knock him out. It's about finesse and movement. It's like chess meeting ballet. I love boxing. My love for the sport goes back to all the boxing I watched with my Dad back in the 50's. Great names still resonate when I think boxing. Archie Moore, the undefeated Rocky Marciano, Rocky Graziano and the fighter that I consider to be, pound for pound, the greatest ever; Sugar Ray Robinson. I love boxing. I kept following the game as I got older. I lost money on the first Cassius Clay/Sonny Liston fight. Some clown in High School was taking Clay and giving odds. Who knew? I think I lost 6 dollars on that one. By the 70's I was living in Philadelphia and one of my best friends was the WBC Light Heavyweight Champion of the World. I got the picture of the uppercut that knocked him out at the Meadowlands in his third title defense. With HIS camera. I love Boxing. Boxing is a wonderful union of mind and body. The mind has to be strong enough to be able to control your strategy as you defend, anticipate your opponents next move, try to hit him and come up with your own next move. The body has to be able to to withstand extreme punishment while providing the stamina and power to go from beginning to end. The strength of mind has to be equal to the strength of body. I love boxing. I've taught my girls to Box. My oldest was at a party with her now husband (they were engaged at the time) and her ex kept bothering her. She made a number of attempts at resolving the issue, but he made the mistake of touching her in some way. She broke his nose. Good girl. You've learned well. When I first arrived in Dallas nearly 25 years ago, I was in great shape and was working out at the North Dallas Boxing Gym.  One of my workout buddies was another disc jockey from the network where I worked. He was doing Heavy Metal and went by the name Mad Maxx, but I knew him as Dave, a friend, a workmate and another boxing fan. One day I asked him if he wanted to spar for a couple of rounds. He said sure and we laced up and started to go at it. I threw a right cross. That's about all I remember……until I found myself being sat up in the corner and hearing a voice ask, "Didn't you know Dave had 12 professional fights and spars with heavyweights in Forth Worth?" I never got in a ring again. I try not to even WEAR a ring these days.………..I love Boxing.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

HOW I GOT MY PROFILE PIC

Because Sonny did the show from his bedroom, it afforded us the opportunity to have a little more privacy during our interviews with celebrities, because we could bring them to his apartment instead of the radio station. That would free them to be a little looser as there would be no station personnel or “normal folk” trying to get autographs or asking to pose for pictures. They could relax a little and be themselves. I knew that this particular interview was going to be a lot more fun than most because it was with one of the world’s funniest men. I had been a fan of Mel Brooks since before his prolific film career or even the classic “2,000 Year Old Man” sketches he did with the equally creative and funny Carl Reiner. I remember Mel Brooks from his days as a staff writer on one of the most innovative TV shows of it’s time _ “Your Show of Shows” starring the brilliant Sid Caesar and the sublimely funny Imogene Coca. The show boasted a writing staff that would go on to become a literal “who’s who” of funny. Sid Caesar, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Howard Morris, Mel Tolkin, Neil Simon and his brother, Danny Simon, Larry Gelbart andWoody Allen (who didn’t actually write for the show but did work on a few Sid Caesar specials, so I figured I could sneak him into the group - makes it look even more impressive). I had NO idea what to expect when I got to the apartment other than the basic fact that I was on my way to spend some time in a fairly intimate atmosphere with one of the funniest men alive. I was pretty pumped. He was in Philadelphia as part of his publicity tour for the just released “High Anxiety” - his insanely funny homage to the films Alfred Hitchcock. I lived in South Jersey and the apartment was in a suburb north of Center City, so I had about a 45 minute drive from point A. to point B. I would cross the Walt Whitman Bridge and follow the Schuylkill Expressway all the way to Sonny’s. As I pulled into the parking lot in my little yellow MG-B, top down that particular day, I noticed there was a limo behind me that was now pulling around in front of me, where it came to a stop. The door opened and out popped the subject of my reason for being there that day. He walked quickly towards me, hand outstretched and said, “Bob Leonard - Hi I’m Mel Brooks - I’m a star!” I knew instantly that I was about to have one of the most fun experiences of my life to that point. We went inside and the man was never “off.” He regaled us with stories about his life, his films, his comedy - it was hardest I had ever laughed. We must have recorded for a couple of hours and there is absolutely no way to describe the atmosphere or, even, what was said. It was Mel Brooks being Mel Brooks - you really had to be there. As he was getting ready to leave I asked if I could have a picture with him. He graciously agreed and, as I put my arm around his shoulder, just before the shutter snapped ,I said, “My dad told me to give you a kiss and Jews kiss, c’mere…,” at which point he mugged, I kissed and the result ended up as my Facebook profile picture. About 2 weeks after the interview, I was going through my mail box at the radio station and I saw a letter from 20th Century Fox addressed to me. It was handwritten and said: “Dear Bob, I just wanted to write and thank you for the interview. It was more fun than eating Raisinettes with Harvey Korman on the set of “High Anxiety.” Love, Melvin” To make that day even more eventful and important to me in the context of my career, years later I had two opportunities to interview the aforementioned Carl Reiner and I made it my goal each time, to make him laugh. Was I able to do it? Well - That’s another story!