E-mails still pop up here about Parka Patrol, a Saturday night CBC Radio show that disappeared 35 years ago.
Ah, the memories!
It was a sweet little blues and Bambi hour, hosted by a lovesick ranger in a fire tower.
Listeners were deputized as Sons of the Snowscoop.
Once in a while, the host of these Radio Rangers got into town to feed a jukebox at the local hotel, which curiously only played B-17. Was it
a reference to the dabbers of small town Bingo?
It was a silly earworm, explained below.
Parka took mail at a post office box in Maynooth, Ontario--a tiny town on
the way to Algonquin Park. (I wanted to use Snowball, ON as our mail
drop, but it was too far to go.)
For 30 years, I commuted into T.O. to do Toronto Sun columns, and radio
oddities like Parka Patrol and later CFRB's Recordhounds.
Each month, I'd lumber into CBC Radio's old Jarvis St. Kremlin to tape
three episodes. All the strange records were my own, a frightening
insight into my headspace. We'd have a lead sheet for tunes,
and a nearly complete script.
Our true achievement was the Great T-Shirt Trade, a national unity parody.
Listeners mailed in their favorite small-town t-shirt and we'd trade it
for one the same size from somewhere else. Local fire companies, gas
stations and unheard-of cafes seemed to be the most popular. The mail
handler (me) went insane.
In two years of the show, we drew about 1,200
letters--all answered with a note, bumpersticker or Maynooth Bears
t-shirt. The CBC had no budget for such inspired craziness.
Our big bark was the Parka Patrol Dog Show.
Listeners sent in a pic of their adored mutt, and each got
a Best in Show ribbon--100 printed up at a cheapo trophy store. Every dog
entered was mentioned on air by name and talent.
About 80 dogs entered, with appropriate owner thoughts on their talents. (Mostly drooling, humping and
farting).
We sent listeners cards for National Bingo Night. Many numbers called on the air. Very confusing. Many winners. Craft crazies made their own cards too. Okay, it was a mess.
A political pal got then-Communications Minister Marcel Masse to record
us promos: "I am the Minister of Communications. This is my Anik satellite. You are the People of
the Parka." It was Very Official.
People at the CBC were badly frightened that the minister in charge of the CBC
itself was apparently involved in a silly blues show that
celebrated Bath Night.
Anyway, the mail load, foraging tunes and chasing ever-weirder music began
to impinge on my real job as newspaper columnist.
I begged the CBC to run off some pre-printed postcards--the same wolf image and the
exploding pineapple seen below. Nada.
So Parka Patrol went away, to wherever old radio goes.
No more night music for Canada's woodshed baths. No word on whether Bambi ever won Bingo. Parka's wistful Cricket has gone silent.
No more recipes for Stuffed Porcupine or how to catch one.
(Wait on the corner of the porch until a porkie comes to eat the corner. Bean a large can of V8 off his noggin.)
Where will the young learn such stuff?
Yeah, I miss it too.
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