Growing up, there were basically three guarantees that were a staple to my childhood. One: If it was Sunday and it was half-way-decent outside, you could bet that from 8:30 am until about 5:30 pm I was going to be in that backseat of the family Chevy Blazer on my way to pick fossils in Cooperstown, feed ducks at Fourth Lake, or venturing to see the famous "Pig On The Rock" just outside of Speculator, NY. Two: June meant one thing and one thing only: The St. Mary's Festival. Living across the street from the church and the school gave me the cool-kid "leg-up" on the exact time of the amusement ride delivery (The Trebant, Paratrooper, or, God save me, BOTH!), the game booth set-up, and the beginning grind of that incessant electric generator that was set up on the front lawn of the school a mere 50 yards from my parents bedroom window (ask my dad to describe that one). Three: If there was a television on in our house, at some time during the day you could rest assure that The Little Rascals were being watched. For those of you under the age of forty, you may be asking yourself, "What is a Little Rascal?" For those of you over forty, you must be saying, "Oh, you mean Our Gang!" Well, for all of you, let us revisit those glorious days of old. According to Hal Roach, the creator of The Little Rascals or Our Gang, the idea came to him in 1921, when he was auditioning a child actress to appear in one of his films. After the girl and her mother left the office, Roach looked out of his window to a lumberyard across the street, where he saw a group of children having an argument. The children had all taken sticks from the lumberyard to play with, but the smallest kid had taken the biggest stick, and the others were trying to force him to give it to the biggest kid. After realizing that he had been watching the kids bicker for 15 minutes, Roach thought a short film series about kids just being themselves might be a success. Characters with such memorable names as Spanky, Alfalfa, Darla, Weezer, Butch, Froggy, Buckwheat, and Pete the Pooch frequented the LeVick household on a daily basis. The best aspect of The Little Rascals was that it was able to be enjoyed by the entire family. My sisters and I would watch Stymie cook a huge giant square cake and fill it with an assembly of prizes such as a hairbrush, a rubber hot water bottle and a shoe to be discovered when the cake was dramatically cut open. The sound of the cake bubbling over "wheeee-wheeee-wowwwww" as Stymie pushed it back into shape can still be heard in my nightmares. I could watch with my dad as a midget (oh, sorry, little-person) comes out of a garbage can filled with newspapers and promptly exclaims to a bumbling cop, "Hey there, flat-foot, call your shots!" I could even spend Sunday afternoons watching with my grandmother as the plaster of paris was added to all the orphan kids mush to create a half-moon like solid mass that was pulled from the bowl and gazed upon amazingly by one of the rascals. Ah yes! The Little Rascals had such a profound affect on me and my life that back in 1995 as I sat in my tiny apartment late one night, I almost fainted when QVC (Quality, Value, and Convenience, fo sho) showed a collection of 12 video tapes, each with four episodes of the Gang for an amazing, one-time, ez-payment plan included, of just $49. I just had to order it. I enjoyed them for several years, but after moving into my home almost ten years ago, the Rascals simply got lost in the shuffle. Just recently, as I was cleaning out the attic of my home, I found this amazing collection. I dusted them off, found my VCR (ancient piece of machinery that now is) and sat for a glorious seven hours in prankster bliss. I watched the gang building and then driving their firetruck down the steep hill, punching people with the automatic-punching-glove device attached to the truck. I was horrified by the fun-house monster (actually a mannequin from Laurel and Hardy's "Babes in Toyland") that comes out of the closet after Alfalfa opens the ill-fated door. I laughed out loud when Uncle George chased the crew through the house repeating, "Yum Yum, eat 'em up!" I now am soon to introduce these magnificent shorts to my four-year-old daughter. I know that with her unique sense of humor that she will receive as much enjoyment out of them as I did, and still do. I leave you with a short clip of Buckwheat and Porky dancing and singing in one of the many variety show theme-based episodes. And in the immortal words of one of the love-stricken rascals, "Learn that poem. Learn that poem. Learn it."
*Note: The monkey, the one who is sporting a smoking jacket and starts the record player in the video clip below, was the first monkey that began my obsession of one day owning one. I have yet to acquire the aforementioned primate, but I am damn young, and I have a GREAT tree in my backyard.
A Classic from The Little Rascals
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