“And ten…nine…eight…seven…” called the floor director.
The television studio was dark. Bill Ratliff stood amidst a pool of light in front of a large box accented with a floral curtained window, where the frog puppet, Gomer, would soon appear during today’s airing of Showtime. I had watched the local children’s show on KRCG-TV every day after school for my entire life. Last year, on my birthday, my mom sent the station a coloring page from my Flintstones book that I had spent hours on, tediously keeping my crayon within the lines. My artwork was featured on air and Gomer himself wished me a happy birthday. Friends and family called me that evening to tell me it was the best coloring page they had ever seen.
“Six…five…four…” said the floor director.
It was almost time. I was going to be on TV. My brother’s Boy Scout troop had been invited to appear on the show. Since my mom was the den mother, and I had become an honorary member of Troop 512, I got to accompany them on all of their fun excursions. The boys teased and picked on me, but I didn’t mind. They were also very protective. Once another troop badgered them for having a girl in their group and a couple of the Troop 512 boys threatened to beat them up.
“She’s more of a boy than the sissies in your group,” said Ronnie, the chubby scout who served as my protector.
“Oh yeah, how about she proves it then,” one called back.
“Boys!” their den mother called. “Cool it!”
“Three…two…” the song, Music Box Dancer played as the show open ran on a large monitor. The tender plinking of a child’s piano was my cue at home to stop whatever I was doing and run to the TV. But today, I was actually there, live, in the studio, for all of Central Missouri to see.
“It’s Showtime, the fun time that’s just for kids,” said the announcer as a montage of highlight clips brought the tender music to life.
“Welcome to Showtime,” said Bill Ratliff. Bill typically wore a short-sleeved, button-up shirt and tie. He held a tall microphone in his left hand, attached to a long cord that snaked across the concrete floor. He was a very serious and gentle man, who could have played Richie Cunningham’s double on the hit show, Happy Days, which aired on KOMU-TV right after Showtime. His blondish-red hair was sculpted perfectly and I realized when I saw him in person that he wore thick make-up and rouge.
“Today we have some very special guests from Centralia, Missouri, Boy Scout Troop 512,” said Bill.
And there, on live TV was a wide shot of our troop. I waved to the TV in the studio, but it appeared I was waving to someone off-set. Wait a minute, what was going on? I stretched my arm as far as I could toward the TV, waving feverish – to no avail. I caught a glimpse of a hand waving out of the corner of my left eye, hidden in the darkness, but silhouetted by a bright red light. I looked in the direction of the hand and the camera operator pointed to the lens that sat below the red light. I waved again toward the camera and glanced at the TV to my right. I was finally waving in the right direction, to my friends and family back home. It was very confusing and I was embarrassed to show my inexperience in the TV world.
“Also visiting us today is the library lady,” he said.
‘Oh great, the stupid library lady,’ I thought to myself. About once a month, they let this lady on the show to read a children’s book to us. Gomer’s friend, Mr. Book Worm would join her and appear as interested in the book as a stuffed hand puppet could. No one, and I mean NO ONE, liked the library lady. She wasted valuable time when we could be watching Bugs Bunny cartoons or The Little Rascals.
“But first, here’s a word from our sponsors,” said Bill.
“Don’t go away, Showtime will be right back,” said a little girl’s pre-taped voice.
“And out,” called the floor director. “Come on kids, let’s line up so you can talk on TV.”
The entire troop rushed to Bill’s side, scrambling for their places in line.
“Me first! No, me first!” they argued.
Suddenly, they saw the camera and lights. Stage fright set in.
“I’m not going first, you go first,” said Ronnie to Clint, as he backed away.
“Here, you go first, Patti,” said Ronnie as he shoved me to the front of the line.
“Okay kids, ten seconds,” said Bill.
I stood quietly and stiffly. ‘Oh no, I’m first,’ I thought to myself. ‘What am I going to say?’ I had seen the show hundreds of times and knew exactly what I was supposed to do, but being in the studio made my stomach flutter and my hands sweat.
“Welcome back to Showtime,” Bill began.
‘Oh gosh, think, think,’ I said inside my head.
“And what’s your name?” Bill asked as he knelt on one knee to place the microphone in front of my mouth. I began nervously rocking front to back from my toes to my heels.
“Patti Crump,” I said quietly.
“Are you part of this troop too?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes, I mean, my brother is.” I said. Bill laughed and made a playful remark that I was too anxious to understand.
“Is there anyone you want to say ‘hi’ to back home?” he asked.
“My mom, my dad, my sisters, my grandma, my grandpa, my other grandma and my neighbor, Stacie,” I recited. I had practiced the list over and over as I was falling asleep the night before.
Stacie Gates lived up the street from me and when she found out I was going to be on TV, she threatened to end our friendship if I didn’t say her name. I wanted to say ‘hi’ to all of my friends, but the Showtime producers limited how many people you could list. I knew I would have to answer to Stacie when I got home, so I made sure I said her name.
“Well, thank you for being with us today,” Bill said.
I waved to the camera and quickly exited the set to my seat in a one of the folding chairs lined up in front of a tan curtain. One by one, each of the boys, who were once confident and arrogant, nervously rattled off a list of names to greet.
Back home, when kids lined up to talk, I normally took the time as an opportunity to grab a snack. I hoped my school friends knew to stay and watch today though.
The show went by quickly. Even the library lady was tolerable today. The sound was kept low in the studio when the cartoons came on, but it didn’t matter. I had seen every episode at least ten times.
“Wow, you all are TV stars!” Mom exclaimed once the show was complete. “How does it feel?”
“When can we see it?” I asked.
“It’s live TV, you won’t be able to see it,” she said. “Everyone back home was watching you just then.”
‘What a rip off!’ I thought. Now I would never know what I looked like on TV. Today was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I wondered if I would ever get a chance to be on TV again.
