JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

Quick, name things you feared as a child. For me, it was comic books, films, or TV shows involving transformation sequences or body horror. These scared the beejezus out of me, even if the transformation was merely implied and not shown, such as a deceased Chevy Chase going back to Earth as adorable mutt Benji in Oh Heavenly Dog (a movie which scared Roger Ebert , for other reasons).  At home, I couldn't handle the transition from Bill Bixby to Lou Ferrigno in The Incredible Hulk . Hearing the Hulk theme music was the cue to scoot elsewhere. Why this shook me up was a good question - maybe I thought it was horrifying that a poor schlep could turn into a raging beast, that he was going through something so unpleasant I didn't want it to happen to me.

This is a friendly public service announcement to those in the world who find any kind of art, fine or not, unworthy of public support. Perhaps the cold-hearted, controversy-seeking executives of Sun Media (whose coverage of a play about a terrorism suspect assisted the federal government's last-minute decision to pull funding for Summerworks and whose TV channel went off the deep end its in attack on arts funding ) had parents who determined that "you gotta have art" was a dangerous message to impart onto their budding shapers of public opinion. Based on the song "Heart" from the musical Damn Yankees , the "You Gotta Have Art" campaign was a Detroit television staple in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Marvelling at the Diego Rivera frescos on your way into the Detroit Institute of Arts might make you dance too.

When watching late-night reruns of SCTV on Windsor’s CBC outlet during our teens, Amy and I expected that most of our laughs would come from the fake ads on the Canadian comedy classic, not the real ones during commercial breaks. One exception was Woody Pontiac, located across the border in Hamtramck (a suburb of Detroit surrounded on all but one side by the city of Detroit). Their pitchman was dealer Woodrow W. Woody (1908-2002), an elderly gentleman whose on-air demeanour came from an earlier era. Mr. Woody wasn’t a hard sell salesman, nor did he use gimmicks like flying around in a cape (hi Mel Farr!). No, Mr. Woody reached out to potential customers by stressing his long involvement in the car business as a genial, slightly doddering old man whose eyes were fixed on a teleprompter might do. We imitated his exit lines for years afterward. The cheerful reassurance we’d like his dealership. The quaintness of seeing any TV pitchman from the late 1980s/early 1990s say to viewers “s...

... Retrontario has dug up an ad I've been searching for on YouTube for years. If you were exposed to Detroit television during the 1980s, odds are good you can hum a few bars of the cowboy's jingle (and sing the missing "here dawg, come on dawg" lyric—there were several variations of this cartoon over the years). As far as 1980s Detroit car dealers go, I'm still waiting for footage of Walt Lazar ("he's a super, super dealer"), Pointe Dodge (no catchphrase, just the same non-descript balding guy in every ad), Bill Rowan ("Noooobody. Old Bill wants the money"), and Woodrow Woody (doddering elderly dealer) to make their way onto the interwebs*. *Before anyone asks, Mel Farr Superstar is available for your viewing pleasure .

Because the only way to teach American children of the late 1970s/early 1980s about good dental exercise is to employ a Fonzie wannabe. Speaking of Fonzie, while researching a recent Torontoist piece on the early days of CityPulse , I stumbled upon this picture in the Toronto Sun from the episode of Happy Days that inspired the expression "jump the shark" ( Wikipedia has a cleaner version of this picture ). Photo originally published in the September 1, 1977 edition of the Toronto Sun . - JB

Thinking about my aunt prompted me to search on YouTube for the animated tiger graphic WDIV used for their Tigers broadcasts during the 1980s (she watched the game with Dad and I if one was on). If the Tigers won, the clip above was used as the broadcast drew to a close. If they lost, a whimpering tiger with an icepack on its head let out a sad meow, followed by a grumble worthy of Muttley/Mumbly . So far, no sign of the losing cartoon online.

Another example of YouTube proving long-term childhood memories are correct: a Levi's ad that stuck in my head for years featuring a slightly creepy alien warrior who uttered "LE-VI-ZUH!" a lot and chuckled at the end of the commercial. I'm not surprised that I don't remember the wussy human. The warrior made at least one other appearance, shown above. The jean-makers animated ads from the late 70s/early 80s are stunning in their design, rotoscoping (basing the animation on human models) and overall quirkiness (A farmer who shows great pride in his denim crop? How would jeans have fit humans if we had physically evolved in different ways?). - JB

One of the things I loved about visiting Toronto as a child was watching television at my grandparents. The kiddie shows were completely different than those available in the Windsor area, so I'd glue myself to the TV before the day's activities. This exposure came in handy years later in conversations with those who grew up around the GTA—no head scratching on my part whenever anyone mentioned Commander Tom or Rocket Robin Hood . While looking for material for this post, I stumbled upon a series I'd forgotten everything about except for the theme music, The Wonderful Stories of Professor Kitzel . Figures I'd watch a cartoon about history. I also loved watching Once Upon a Time...Man around this time. Tales of The Wizard of Oz was an early Rankin-Bass production, utilizing CBC vets for the voices as they would a few years later for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer . It also appears as if the persona of the Wizard was based on one of the first casting choices fo...

Today, another ad burned in the brain of anyone who watched Detroit television in the 1980s. To the strains of the theme from It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World , the residents of the Detroit Zoo gear up for another day of curious onlookers. I usually encountered this ad while watching cartoons on Detroit's independent stations. Even as a kid I could sense which non-network channels were better than others. For the uninitiated, here are quick sketches of the three main indies during the 1980s: Channel 50 (WKBD) : The classiest of the bunch. Had a sister station in Chicago. Usually ran the better syndicated shows, movies and cartoon packages. Produced its own newscast, anchored for years by Amyre Makupson . Ran the odd editorial in between sitcom reruns. Carried Red Wings and Pistons games. Endless Star Trek reruns. Later an affiliate for Fox, UPN and CW. Channel 20 (WXON) : Production values were a step down from Channel 50 (weaker graphics, grainier station IDs, etc)....

Tyler 8-7100. WE DO GOOD WORK . If you grew up within antenna or cable distance of Detroit from the 1960s onward, there's a good chance that phone number and slogan are burned in your brain, thanks to Belvedere Construction. I don't recall seeing today's YouTube find when it originally aired, though there were so many ads featuring Mr. Belvedere (aka Maurice Lezell) they may have blurred in my brain. Note the painters cap and the bumper sticker on the belly of the robot. Perhaps its mouth doubled as a credit card reader or spit out estimates for good work. According to a 2002 Metro Times article , Lezell named his company after both a street in Detroit and the character played by Clifton Webb in a popular late 1940s movie series...which later inspired the 1980s sitcom. While searching for more of the classic Detroit commercials, I stumbled upon this odd club for kids... I suspect that admitting that you were a member of this fan club was a one-way ticket t...

Today's trip in the wayback machine revolves around a show that may that started my love of old movies. Magic Shadows ran weeknights on TVOntario throughout the 1970s and 1980s. The show divided old movies into 20-25 minute segments, bookended with comments by host Elwy Yost. Often, one day a week was reserved for serials. The length was perfect for little me to get hooked on classic movies, especially if they were pictured in our quickly-tattered copies of Daniel Blum's photo histories of film. Dad often tuned in for British comedies - I'm All Right Jack and The Great St. Trinian's Train Robbery stick out in my mind. It wasn't long before I started watching Saturday Night at the Movies . Around this time was a brief period where I was trotted around my elementary school as a seven-year old film expert lecturing grade eights, though I think Dad quashed that quickly (probably thinking I didn't need to be paraded around like a carnival freak). Some peo...

Post revised October 19, 2009 Amherstburg's geographical location made it a mecca for picking up TV stations without cable. With strong reception from Windsor, Detroit and Toledo, plus the occasional burp from Sarnia or Cleveland, we didn't need no stinkin' converter box. An antenna (living room) and mega-bunny ears (basement, later my bedroom) were our passports to home entertainment. This meant a large variety of kiddie shows to choose from. On Sunday mornings, channel 11 (WTOL, Toledo's CBS affiliate) ran the locally-produced Patches & Pockets . I remember little about the show, other than discovering years later the theme was Bernard Herrmann's overture from Citizen Kane ! Here's an experiment, humble readers - walk into your local TV station wearing clown costumes, pitch your idea for a zero-budget kids show and see what happens...if you make it past security. According to one defunct Toledo television history website, that's more or less the ...