Priceless Memories - Bob Barker [33]
We were told that the Flamingo was the idea of Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel. Mr. Siegel thought that a beautiful casino with top talent to entertain would attract big spenders from Los Angeles. When Jim and I visited the Flamingo in the summer of 1947, only the bar was open. Everywhere else there were cranes and carpenters. Jim and I had our drinks—Rob Roys, as I recall—and split. That summer, while Jim was honing his radio skills at NBC and I was doing the same at the Pasadena Playhouse, Mr. Siegel was shot to death in Beverly Hills. I read that his demise was probably arranged by some of his disgruntled business associates.
They jumped the gun—pun intended. I was in Las Vegas recently, and when I stood in front of the Flamingo, I saw nothing but more hotels for miles in every direction. Mr. Siegel was right on, but he should have chosen business associates who were not so impatient.
I don’t know how much his experience at NBC that summer had to do with it, but Jim Lowe ended up as one of the most popular disc jockeys in New York City. In 1953, Jim wrote a megahit song called “Gambler’s Guitar.” It was recorded by Rusty Draper, a popular vocalist of the time, and stayed on the charts for weeks. In 1957, Rusty Draper was still hot, as Hollywood folks say, so our celebrity booker suggested that we invite Rusty to do a guest appearance on Truth or Consequences. It wasn’t my idea, but I was all for it. Rusty agreed to do Truth, and suggested that a young friend of his join him. His friend was attracting attention for his work as a cowboy on a television Western, Laramie, and we readily agreed.
After Rusty and his friend had done their bit on Truth, I chatted with them for a few minutes, and I remember thinking, “That young cowboy may do OK in Hollywood.” His name was Clint Eastwood.
After my summer radio course, I worked at KTTS for another year, and then, after a stop in Palm Beach, Florida, Dorothy Jo and I headed west. To be more specific, we headed for Hollywood. After all, it was in Hollywood and New York that the national radio shows originated, and it was a national radio show that we were after.
I bought a two-wheel trailer, loaded all of our worldly goods in it, and away we went. Now, I had never driven a car pulling a trailer, and we weren’t out of the Palm Beach city limits before I realized that there is more to pulling a trailer than you might think (until you have experienced the thrill of pulling one). We were in a violent windstorm most of the way across Oklahoma, and by virtue of the fact that we survived, my confidence mounted tremendously. By the time we reached Hollywood, I could back that trailer up and even park it—if the parking area was a bit spacious.
Incidentally, when we got to Hollywood, I sold the trailer for more than I had paid for it. It was one of my better investments.
5
My Years on the Reservation
People often ask me, “When you were little did you always want to be a television host?” Some are surprised to hear that when I was a child, there was no television. It was a different world then, especially for a boy growing up in South Dakota. This was the 1930s in some of the most rural and rugged parts of the country, but it was also spectacular territory in which to spend a boyhood because I developed a love of the outdoors, physical activity, sports, and adventures of all kinds. Growing up in South Dakota nurtured in me a reverence for nature and a love of animals.
As a child, I had no notion of historical context, but as I look back, the challenges that my mother and other South Dakotans faced in those years were extraordinary. The 1930s began with the worst drought and grasshopper plague ever experienced in the state. The drought, accompanied by dust storms, lasted for ten years (except for some relief in 1932 and 1935), and the Great Depression (1929–1939) also caused thousands of South Dakotans to lose their jobs and their land.
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My mother and I moved