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		GROWING UP IN THE LATE 1950's AND EARLY 1960's, I remember with some fondness the glory days of live local television. FROM MY VANTAGE POINT IN SOUTHWESTERN OHIO, the airwaves were filled with the likes of Ruth Lyons (a woman possessing no discernable talent yet wielding such power at Crosley Broadcasting that her daily 50/50 Club was never pre-empted or cut short), Sally Flowers (the hold this rotund variety-show host had over my young mind is difficult to explain now), The Rising Generation (a Saturday evening fixture showcasing never-heard-from-since high school talent and hosted/sponsored by the owner of a grocery store) and, last but not least, the staple of many a local station (and much beloved by my grandmother) Studio Wrestling (hosted locally by Omar Williams, a sportcaster whose eyebrows formed a single bushy hedge across his forehead and who seemed to be a perpetual target for airborne chairs). TO ALL OF THIS we must add the Saturday morning kiddie show. CINCINNATI HAD Uncle Al (the Channel 9 picture, alas, was often too fuzzy for sustained viewing), and locally we had Uncle Orrie ("Hey Kids, what time is it? It's time for Uncle Orrie!"). Uncle Al seemed to have more class than most of his brethern in the kiddie show host world (he used to show Chaplin films—horrible quality prints projected at an incorrect 24fps—and once had Jerry Lewis—back when some people still thought he was funny—as a guest). Uncle Orrie, on the other hand, was (or appeared to be) everybody's favorite uncle and just that. Paired with a Mr. Greenjeans-style sidekick, Uncle Orrie radiated folksy charm. It was the thrill of a lifetime (Dayton was a pretty dull town, you see) to be part of a Cub Scout den invited down to their 8x10 foot studio space to play games, to not win prizes, to watch Little Rascals episodes, and to be seen live on TV by our families and friends. WHICH BRINGS US TO The Uncle Bald Man Show. NO ONE KNOWS FOR SURE where this legendary show originated but there is some anecdotal evidence that a small, powerful pirate station in northern Ontario Canada was the source. What we do know is that it miraculously appeared every Saturday morning, that it ran for years, that it was the most twisted, off-kilter kiddie show ever, that our parents hated it with a passion usually reserved for politicans, bankers, and used car salesmen, and that we loved it and watched it without fail. THE UNCLE BALD MAN SHOW, as one would expect, revolved around Uncle Bald Man, the ill-tempered owner of a rural gas station and greasy-spoon diner ("Home of the Big Baldy Burger!"). Unlike your usual family-friendly kiddie host, whose possession of a dark side was never even hinted at, Uncle Bald Man was all dark side. It was right there. Front and center. Standing at attention. All the time. AMONG THE MOST WELL-REMEMBERED bits of classic Uncle Bald Man were when he instructed his impressionable viewers to go get their mother's charge account numbers and send them to him, and when he let us all know—in exacting detail— the amazing effect of sugar in an automobile gas tank. THE OTHER CAST MEMBERS—never seen before or since—were equally at home in this oddball universe. FIRST THERE WAS Mr. Greasejeans: sidekick and general helper at the gas station. He was, I'm afraid, not much good at anything so was only allowed to pump gas. Over the years he gravitated over to the diner ("Home of the Big Baldy Burger!") where he—no one knows how exactly—established himself as the judge of a weekly wet t-shirt contest (a wet t-shirt contest on a kiddie show? well yes, but it wasn't what you might think). ALSO HANGING OUT at the diner was a local kid who mostly cleared tables and looked surly. Dressed all in black, he was the self-proclaimed Historian (in Black) and when he did speak, uttered only historical factoids (interestingly, my own interest in history stems from being introduced to the subject in this manner). ALSO PRESENT every so often was Silent Poe (as in Edgar Allan...), a character who bore an uncanny resemblance—years before the fact—to Kevin Smith's Silent Bob (could Kevin have seen this show back in New Jersey?). FINALLY, there was the very ocassional, always uncredited appearances of the absentee landlord. Given this show's non-existent budget, it has been assumed this character was the wife or girlfriend of another cast member. Anyway, she always looked angry and never said a word. SO THERE IN A NUTSHELL are my memories of The Uncle Bald Man Show. Considering it's shoestring origins, I'm sure all evidence of it's existence is long gone. It lives only in the memories of those who tuned in every Saturday morning. Or maybe in the nightmares of their parents.
Could this be the home of the Big Baldy Burger?
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