Priceless Memories - Bob Barker [65]
Our apartment was only a half block north of Sunset Boulevard, a short stroll for us to see the famous Hollywood Christmas parade in December of 1950. We thought it was very exciting to wave to the stars as they rode by. Dorothy Jo and I had the pleasure of riding in the Hollywood Christmas parade together several times during the ensuing years. In 2007, I was grand marshal of the Hollywood Christmas parade, and was joined in the grand marshal’s antique limousine by my brother, Kent, and his lovely wife, Beth. My heart ached as I waved to the folks at the corner of Sunset and Las Palmas, where Dorothy Jo and I had stood and waved to the stars more than a half century ago.
Once we were ensconced in our Hollywood digs, I went to visit the photographer whose card I had been given back in Florida. His studio was a short drive from our apartment on Vine Street south of Sunset Boulevard. Unfortunately, he had no work for me, but he suggested that I go see a friend of his who might be able to use me. In fact, he picked up the phone and called his friend, who agreed to see me immediately. I drove down Vine to Santa Monica Boulevard, where the friend who might be able to use me was located. I was ushered right into this fellow’s office by a woman of sixty or more who wore too much makeup.
His office was reasonably well furnished: dark wood, very masculine. The man was wearing a good-looking white shirt, a nice tie, and no coat. He had a good tan and his hair was carefully combed. I remember the whole scene vividly, because although it took him about ten minutes to say so in carefully couched language, the guy who might be able to use me offered me an opportunity to work in pornographic movies.
I laughed all the way home. I couldn’t wait to tell Dorothy Jo. I rushed in and said, “Honey, I have been offered a role in a pornographic movie.”
Dorothy Jo said, “Did you take it?”
• • •
In 1950, there was an FM radio station on Sunset Boulevard, not too far from our apartment, that was intended to become the mother station for an FM network. I decided to try to get a job as a salesman at this FM station. I wanted to sell some sort of audience participation show and host it myself. I made an appointment with the sales manager, a Scot named Worthy Murchison, who was destined to become a good and very amusing friend. Worthy and I talked for ten or fifteen minutes, which was all it took for him to determine that I had never sold anything, but our conversation had been fun. Worthy had a dry sense of humor that I thoroughly appreciated, and although I was in his offices under false pretenses, he seemed to enjoy our conversation, too.
He said, “I am about to go out to the Cracker Barrel Market in the San Fernando Valley and pitch a show to originate in the market. You go with me and help me sell it. If we do, you can host it.”
I said, “Let’s go!”
We went, and we struck out. But in addition to being sales manager of a radio station, Worthy managed an apartment house, and on the way back to Hollywood, we stopped at an appliance store for something Worthy needed for the apartment house. It was Rick’s Appliances on Ledge, east of Lankershim Boulevard in North Hollywood.
Roy Rick was a big, broad-shouldered, good-looking guy who had hitchhiked out to Los Angeles from Iowa with only eight dollars in his pocket. He had a series of jobs and ended up cutting meat in a supermarket, where he had a chance to meet lots of housewives. Perhaps it’s better said that lots of housewives had a chance to meet Rick. Rick (people seldom called him Roy) decided that he should take advantage of his popularity in that part of the San Fernando Valley, and he decided that an appliance store in North Hollywood would be a good way to do it.
That’s the store Worthy and I