A Touch of Evel
Posted: December 5th, 2007 | Filed under: Essays, Pop Culture | 20 Comments »
All the heroes of my early childhood wore capes. Funny. There was Superman, of course, the cartoon, the comic books, mostly the George Reeves’* character on weekday afternoon television, a not-so-muscular Superman who would stand at full attention, hands on his hips, smug look on his face while the villain unloaded his revolver (and then, as the comedians have pointed out, duck when the villain threw the gun his way).
There was Batman and Robin, sliding down the poles, to the Batcave, into the Batmobile (always buckling their seat belts) and finally to the arch-villain’s lair where underpaid goons wore ill-conceived, skintight uniforms and took heavy punches that sounded like “Boof!†and “Kapow!â€
There was Elvis, naturally, wearing capes and karate suits, or capes and tiger pajamas with belt buckles the size of pinball machines, always capes though; and in front of the capes the King sweated jelly doughnut filling under extreme lights while singing gospels like “How Great Thou Art†and other people’s songs like “Bridge Over Troubled Water,†all with his eyes closed.
And finally there was my ultimate caped hero. When I was 7 years old, the world was divided among the Gods. Muhammad Ali was the greatest. Steve Austin (man barely alive) was the strongest. Fonzie was the coolest. The Harlem Globetrotters were the best. Richard Nixon was not a crook. And Evel Knievel was bigger than any of them.
When it comes to Evel, I don’t even try to separate fact from fiction. I don’t know if he really robbed banks. I don’t know if he really broke 40 bones and became a national sensation while he was in a coma. I don’t know if he cheated the 1960 Czechoslovakian hockey team out of their exhibition money. I don’t know if he really used to lead elk-hunting expeditions into Yellowstone Park. I don’t know if he got his Evel Knievel name in jail when he was in a cell next to the legendary Montana criminal Awful Knofel.
I don’t know if he really sold insurance to people in mental institutions. I don’t know if he really ran over a Hell’s Angel. I don’t know if he really offered to jump out of a an airplane without a parachute and land in a haystack. I don’t know if, on his first jump, he really almost landed in a pit with two mountain lions and 100 rattlesnakes. I don’t know. I don’t want to know.
The story goes that for his first TV jump — the one that made him famous — he walked into Caesar’s Palace, slammed a $100 chip on the blackjack table, busted, drained a shot of Jack Daniels (or, some say, Wild Turkey), grabbed two showgirls, and walked out into the sunlght. He then tied on his cape, got on his motorcycle, ran a couple of warm-up passes (I used to hate when he did that) and then headed for the ramp so he could jump the famous Caesar’s fountains. He promptly lost power in his motorcycle, landed on a van, flipped over the handlebars, skidded about a half mile, crushed his pelvis, femur, fractured his hip and went into a coma The whole thing was filmed by Linda Evans. That Linda Evans. It made him more famous than he ever could have imagined. What a man.
There was something different about 1974 in America, something that I find hard to explain. It wasn’t an innocence exactly. It was more like — well, I’ll try this way: I really believed the Harlem Globetrotters were the greatest basketball team in the world. All of us kids believed it. There was never a doubt in our minds that Meadowlark, Curly and Marques Haynes would not just beat the New York Knicks, but destroy them, mock them, roll basketballs under their legs. I remember one kid in our class, the smart kid, telling us all that no, the Globetrotters were an ACT, they could not really beat a professional team, and I remember that we shouted him down the way the mobs probably shouted down witch-defendants in Salem (“Oh yeah? if it’s just an act, how does Meadowlark make those halfcourt shots, huh? How could the Cleveland Cavaliers stop that? Answer that Mr. Basketballâ€).
Maybe we were more naive then, but no, I think there was something more involved. America WANTED to be more naive. It was like the whole country was in on it. The whole country acted like the Globetrotters were a real sports team. I mean they used to show the Globetrotters on Wide World of Sports, and the great Howard Cosell would tell us how the Washington Generals were a really good team, and he would tell us all about the Globetrotters astonishing athletic prowess, and the camera angles would make the Globetrotters look impossibly good (they only showed the halfcourt shots Meadowlark made). It all felt so real. It was like the Capricorn One of basketball. The whole country happily suspended belief. It was a great time to be 7.
(You know, this might make even less sense to you: But I remember once being very young and watching an old I Love Lucy repeat, one where the George Reeves’* Superman was on the show. I think he was supposed to come to Little Ricky’s birthday party or somthing. Only he was really Superman — he actually flew out the window. It seems odd now. I mean, I Love Lucy was a show somewhat based in reality, right? Nobody flew. And here in the middle of it was Superman, really flying, really coming into save the day. As a kid, this proved conclusive to me: There really is a Superman. Why else would he be on I Love Lucy? The logic was flawless).
In this environment, Evel Knievel was much larger than he ever could be today, or at least that how it seems to me (though the Hannah Montana ticket prices tell me kids might be somewhat easily taken these days too). See, Evel Knievel was not some lunatic daredevil who survived horrendous crashes and wore a cape and jumped busses on his motorcycle. No. There was no irony then. It wasn’t just that America wasn’t in on the Evel Knievel joke. With Evel, there WAS NO JOKE. He was, plainly, seriously, the most dangerous man in the world. He was what every 7 year old I knew wanted to be when he grew up.
For me: There was a hill on my street — I used to take my bike to the top of that hill, wrap a towel around my neck, look down over the tiny little green lawns and hear imaginary cheers. Funny thing, I don’t remember ever actually JUMPING anything, I just remember straddling my bike, looking out over the gray splendor of South Euclid and imagining my glorious cape-wearing future. I wasn’t the only one.
There was, I recall, a lot of confusion among us kids when Evel Knievel tried to jump Snake River Canyon. First, I’m pretty sure we all thought he was supposed to jump the GRAND Canyon. I have since heard that Knievel wanted to jump the Grand Canyon, but the U.S. Government, surprisingly, did not want some daredevil killing himself at one of America’s natural wonders.
So he arranged Snake River Canyon, which did have the cool name. Then, we all thought he was going to jump it on a motorcycle. This was a natural progression since Evel did all of his jumps on motorcycles. It was Zev, I believe, who had the full Evel Knievel toy set, though I supposed it could be Eric or Michael, and I remember spending hours having Toy Evel jump over impressive holes we had dug in the ground, holes that we assumed were roughly in proportion with the Grand Canyon. We had it all set in our minds.
So it was really quite a letdown when we saw that he was actually going to jump the Snake River Canyon in a rocket ship. Somehow, this did not seem quite as impressive. We had, by then, seen rocket ships do fairly impressive things, you know, like go to the moon. Seeing one go over a canyon did not seem especially daring. The announcer, I recall, spent quite a bit of time explaining that was not an ordinary rocket ship, something about propulsion, but I did not really understand the difference then and I still don’t now. I do remember that when the rocket ship crashed, and it looked like Evel Knievel might have died, I started crying. My father then told me that Evel would be all right. I guess the whole thing was on tape.
I may or may not have cared about Evel Knievel after that. I can’t really remember when I outgrew him. It’s troubling looking back now to see how astonishingly kitschy and uncool all the serious and cool things of that time were. It turns out Fonzie wasn’t tough at all.
Many years later, I had a chance to meet Evel Knievel. A promoter called me to set it up. It was at a car show, I believe (which, perhaps not coincidentally, was where I had a chance to meet Adam West, the TV Batman). By then, I had heard that Evel was an astonishingly bad guy, a self-promoting and prickly cuckoo bird who had in his later years failed to pay his taxes, got arrested for soliciting sex from an undercover cop, fought constantly with his daredevil son Robbie and believed his own hype like a perpetual 7-year-old, I guess at the end of his life he found religion.
Anyway, I did not go to meet him. Some things are better and larger in memory. Evel Knievel died on November 30. Earlier this year, Jon Saraceno at USA Today wrote a story about Evel. The old man came across as cantankerous as ever, but he offered this touching thought: “I think about God a lot more than ever. Though I used to ask him, “Help me make a good jump.’ I’m awfully tough to get along with. But I’ll tell you what: I’m a good person. I wish there was such a thing as reincarnation.â€
I wonder if Evel really did wish for reincarnation. He was always saying stuff like that. I mean, what else could he have done? He was, for a time, the baddest man on earth and the greatest and most incredible man a 7-year-old could imagine being. I’ve got to believe that’s what it was all about.
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Wait a second….You think the Globetrotters were and ACT? Well, if they all so phony, how did they get on Scooby Doo, huh? I didn’t see any other basketball players transformed into faux-ghost chasing cartoons during my childhood. What about THAT, Mr. Smartypants?
And it was George Reeves, not Steve Reeve. You’re mixing your Superman and your Hercules, big fella. Maybe you should sit this one out Champ. You know, just stop talking for a while.
Joe,
First I just want to tell you how much I enjoy your blog. I do intend to buy the book someday, although since I live in Mexico now it will have to be on one of my infrequent forays back across the border. I’m a little bit older than you, I think (b. 1954), but I do get the cultural references, and I think you hit the nail on the head about the 1970s and heroes and stuff. Even when I was a grown-up sportswriter for a Maine newspaper and I got to cover the Red Sox occasionally I had a tough time being hard-bitten and cynical like the other guys in the press box. I mean, THAT’S TED WILLIAMS OVER THERE! WADE BOGGS! JOHNNY PESKY! I even got George Scott to autograph a napkin for me once after he sat down beside me in the press box. Very unprofessional.
Anyway, the actor in “The Adventures of Superman” (I can recite the complete opening if begged) was George Reeves, no relation to Steve Reeves, who was Hercules, or to Christopher Reeve, the later Superman. Just to set the record straight.
You’re not the only one. When I took my seven year old daughter to look at the “giant mountain” in the small town in Germany that I grew up in, where I would astound everyone (Evel era) by riding down on my bicycle with NO HANDS
She said, “Papa is that even an incline?”
Good job Joe. If you haven’t yet, check out Hollywoodland, where Ben Afleck does a great job playing George Reeve in a flick based on the real life tragic demise of George Reeve.
I did not realize that Richard Nixon was in your pantheon of heroes! Did he wear a cape?
My friends, it looks like I’ll need your help back home in Ohio now, too. I’m calling on all alien life forms to rally to my aid!
Politics1.com
KUCINICH: The congressional filing deadline in the Buckeye State is just one month away, but Congressman Dennis Kucinich (D) has yet to announced whether he plans to seek re-election next year. For the past year, his political efforts have been focused nearly entirely on making his second run for the White House as the most outspokenly progressive candidate in the Dem field. Yet it is his national ambition — not his stances — that are causing Kucinich problems at home with his CD-10 seat. Cleveland City Councilman Joe Cimperman (D), a former Kucinich protégé, announced Tuesday he will challenge the incumbent in the Dem primary. “Dennis Kucinich is a good man, but he’s a man out of touch. Out of touch with the values of his people, more concerned with … running for the Presidency than [representing] his own district,” said Cimperman. Kucinich, sounding like a candidate for re-election, quickly lashed back. He said Cimperman “is the candidate of downtown Cleveland corporate interests … [who] brags about how much money he raises from big business. But worse than that, he doesn’t live in the district. I guess his big business sponsors are so confident they can buy the election that their candidate doesn’t even have to live in the district.” North Olmsted Mayor Tom O’Grady (D), an educator and Army Special Forces veteran, is set to announce his primary challenge on Wednesday. O’Grady will emphasize his military service as experience that sets him apart from the others in the crowded primary. Anti-war activist Rosemary Palmer (D), the mother of a US soldier killed in Iraq, is also running and subtly emphasizes Kucinich’s inattention to local district needs due to his national ambitions. Also, former Peace Corps executive Barbara Anne Ferris (D) is making a third run for the seat. Of the large field, Cimperman is the most serious challenger to face Kucinich in many years. The primary is March 4.
Wow, you just channeled my childhood. Please stop! It’s scaring me.
The day that Fonzie became uncool for me, wasn’t when he literally jumped the shark, it was the day I realized that the Fonz was probably around 30-years-old and was still hitting on (and presumably sleeping) with high school girls.
If Officer Kirk really wanted to run Fonzi out of Milwaukee he could’ve picked him up on those charges.
Just like if Roscoe P. Coletrain really wanted to throw the Duke boys in jail, he’d wait outside the Boar’s Nest around midnight and bust them both for DUI.
Seriously, though — what’s the defense for a half-court shot? I think the Globetrotters could have given an NBA a good fight. Is there anyone who can look into this?
Has Sports Illustrated called yet, asking you to take over for Rick Reilly?
I had the wind up Evel action figure on the motorcycle and used to jump him down my grandparents hall. That was an amazing time to be 7.
Well, if you think about it, the Fonz was probably, actually a virgin.
Chuck Klosterman wrote about this more extensively, and probably more funnily (that should be a word if it isn’t). But basically the argument goes, in the ’50s, high school girls did not sleep with boys, especially in austere, puritan Milwaukee. So, despite the fact that the Fonz had a different girl on his arm every week, it was probably only because every weekend that particular girl would frustrate his attempts at tomfoolery.
The Snake River Canyon jump ended my awe of Evel Knievel too, when I found out it was a rocket and not a motorcycle. When I saw the whole thing go bad and then land gently with a parachute I thought it was kind of like a barrel going over Niagara Falls, where you’re not in control or doing anything, you’re just along for the ride.
Seems like the Globetrotters did play a few games against NBA teams and did pretty good. Also, I think the Washington Generals actually won a game or two.
One of my favorite throw-away sports quotes comes from Casey Stengle’s congressional testimony. He said something like, “I was not a successful baseball player, as it is a game of skill.”
I was a short, slow, white guy who loved playing basketball, albeit badly.
For a while I thought about trying out for the Washington Generals.
For all the men here who remember watching Evil, you should read the book “How Angel Peterson Got His Name”. It’s a childrens book (about 120 pages) written by Gary Paulsen about all of the stunts they tried growing up. It is hilarious and will bring back many memories. As I read the book, I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my cheeks.
And of course, as you’re buying that book you should buy Joe’s.
The idea that all girls in high school in Milwaukee in the 50s were virgins is laughable. My mother grew up in Ohio in that era and she told me that there were plenty of girls who “got in trouble” while she was in high school. So the idea that the Fonz, the coolest guy in town, didn’t date the girls who did put out is simply ludicrous.
Is somebody trying to say that Leather Tuscadero was a virgin?
I was 8 when he jumped the canyon (or, tried). Very well-written memory, sums up my memories as well.
Superb as usual.
Of course I’m not suggesting that all high school girls in the ’50s didn’t put out, but are we to believe that there was a seemingly endless supply of sexually aggressive teeny-boppers in the greater Milwaukee area for our hero to sully? And, if we do, as the point was raised earlier, are we also to believe that he was commiting felony after felony because most of these girls were under the legal age of consent? The Fonz? Our idol? Surely he wasn’t that debased…
Or we could just be taking a 70s television a little too seriously.
Incidentally, George Reeves/Superman did NOT fly out the window in that “I Love Lucy” episode.
The setting WAS Little Ricky’s birthday party, as you remember. But George only made a trick acrobatic entrance, vaulting through the window that separated the Ricardos’ living room from the kitchen.
Then he climbed out the window, and walked along the building’s ledge, to rescue Lucy (who was dressed as Superman because she thought Real Superman wasn’t going to show up).
You took these disparate elements, and babalucinated the flying.