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Recollections: An Artist and Writer Recalls Ten Unusual and Totally Unique Events in His Life
Recollections: An Artist and Writer Recalls Ten Unusual and Totally Unique Events in His Life
Recollections: An Artist and Writer Recalls Ten Unusual and Totally Unique Events in His Life
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Recollections: An Artist and Writer Recalls Ten Unusual and Totally Unique Events in His Life

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In this memoir, author Harry C. Doolittle offers his recollections and unique stories of Howdy Doody and Kukla, Fran and Olliepioneers in the TV entertainment universeand Charlton Heston, iconic movie star, just to name a few.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateFeb 15, 2013
ISBN9781475972030
Recollections: An Artist and Writer Recalls Ten Unusual and Totally Unique Events in His Life
Author

Harry C. Doolittle

Harry C. Doolittle was born September 17, 1923 in Chicago. He grew up in Winnetka, a Chicago suburb, and graduated from Northwestern University. Doolittle is a self-taught artist who began painting in 1969 while a copywriter/creative director at some of America’s leading advertising agencies. This is Doolittle’s first book.

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    Recollections - Harry C. Doolittle

    Copyright © 2013 by Harry C. Doolittle

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    iUniverse

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.iuniverse.com

    1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4759-7204-7 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4759-7203-0 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2013902861

    iUniverse rev. date: 02/13/2013

    Contents

    Recollection #1. Recruitment

    Recollection #2. Written On Condition of Anonymity

    Recollection #3. Sharks Galore

    Recollection #4. Chicago’s City News Bureau

    Recollection #5. Charlton Heston

    Recollection #6. Howdy Doody

    Recollection #7. Tough Times

    Recollection #8. Workplace Amenity?

    Recollection #9. Kukla, Fran & Ollie

    Recollection #10. A Happy Landing

    Author’s Preface

    I should have entitled this book, Remembrance of Things Past, but alas, a much greater writer than I beat me to it. His name was Marcel Proust. And so, Recollections will have to do. And now to begin as my memory allows it…

    Recruitment

    Recollection #1:

    Fall of 1943, World War II was at full swing, and I was twenty-years old. For the past two years I had been a U.S. Marine Corp reservist while at the same time attending Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. At that time, a call to active duty did not mean that I nor my fellow reservists, would have to fight. Instead, we were to be awarded the title, Private First Class, along with a marine corps uniform, and sent to reside at a marine barracks. In my case, barracks meant an N.U. fraternity house.

    The plan was to no longer have any of us remain as just a marine grunt (marine slang for privates and non-coms). Instead, the plan was for us, as college students, to become marine officers. This meant we marines were supposed to stay in college until we were needed, and then, when called, go to the officer’s training school at Quantico, Virginia. There we were to be graduated as second lieutenants. How long was it before I would have to go? I figured a year; meanwhile as the war was raging worldwide the other marine reservists and I were supposed to remain in school. The reason for the delay, according to scuttle-butt (rumors) was that the marines already had a surfeit of officers and didn’t need any more.

    And so one day the time came when two dozen or so of my newly recruited fellow marines and I lined up in civilian clothes outside our barracks: in this case a fraternity house at the university. This was in early September 1943. We stood there, shoulder pressed against shoulder, wearing mostly T-shirts and jeans (our marine uniforms were due to arrive days later). And on the ground next to each marine was his suitcase containing his other clothes and personal effects.

    Standing in front of this lineup were two men in uniform. The one in the background was a marine captain, and the other, in front of him and nearest to us, was a platoon sergeant. He was in charge with the captain being there as an observer only. His cap set at exactly the correct angle and his brown tie tucked inside his khaki shirt between the second and third button as marine regulations required. His shirt sleeves and blue pants had a red strip down each side (worn only by noncoms and officers), had been ironed razor sharp and the shine on his shoes blinded the eye.

    So now the sergeant, let’s call him Sergeant Lee, standing in

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