The early 1960s milieu of my youth was certainly different than that of our contemporary turmoil, well over five decades hence.
For example, some obscure skills regarding road maps were very useful, whether on a cross-country adventure, or just heading out to the next county, or across town. One was being able to find a tiny street somewhere in F-9. You could not just whip out your mobile phone and ask for directions over that last mile.
Another was to unfold a large detailed map and then re-fold differently so that it could be easily used for navigation; – and then, upon completion, getting it all neatly re-folded again (yes, using the original creases and into the original pattern) without rips or tears so that it could be stored efficiently for multiple future uses. That’s an almost completely lost art. It required patience, some imagination, and 3-D topological mathematical skills to visualize and execute the folded shapes.
State maps and city maps often folded differently, and especially so if one was from Texaco, another from Standard Oil, and yet another from Michelin, or from whomever. If you need a tutorial, find a road map collecting club. These clubs actually exist. You can find anything in America.
I was wondering recently about the children’s cartoon show that we sometimes watched: Roger Ramjet. I think it was a tangent thought on our nation’s new Space Force (by the way, we’ve effectively had a Space Force since long before President Trump deemed it so). Roger Ramjet was one of countless mindless children’s empty-headed shows that ubiquitously populated the TV Wasteland of the early ‘60s moors (the theme song is right now an earworm in my brain). The term TV Wasteland was so coined by Newton Minow, the first chairman of the Federal Communications Commission in a famous speech to a Senate subcommittee, in 1961.
The commissioner’s name is part of a humorous twist, from yet another silly brain-dead show for children that jumped into the 1960’s wasteland: Gilligan’s Island. The show’s creator and executive director, Sherwood Schwartz, decided that the name of the tour ship that would survive an ocean storm, and drop seven castaways on an uncharted island, would be named the SS Minnow, in sardonic honor of the Chairman.
I wondered how Roger Ramjet, both the character and the TV show got their name. Ramjet was a “hot” word de jour, in those fast-paced technology-war and cold war years. Simply – I would learn a few years later – a basic sort of turbo charged jet engine, without an actual turbo air-compressing mechanism.
But the name “Roger”, I guessed from early on, was due to Roger’s nature. Namely military. Roger was super patriotic, definitely military, painfully loyal and honest, possessed a bizarre superpower, and fought evil. He was also a few cards short of a full deck. Sort of a US version of RCMP officer Dudley Do-Right (yes, Dudley was from that same TV Wasteland brain dead era).
The military term “Roger”, I (think I) learned from watching popular WW2-themed TV shows like 12 O’clock High and Combat!, which featured radio communications wherein the word “Roger” was used to indicate a message had been received. R for Roger; R for Received.
The history and etymology of the word “Roger” in this context is interesting and worthy of an essay in and of itself. It’s still used today, particularly in aircraft communication. Variations include Roger Willco (Received, will comply), Roger That, and Roger Dodger. If its use were to start up from scratch today, it would probably be “Romeo”, as that is the NATO and US Military phonetic alphabet word-based “R.” [US Military phonetic alphabet is a tad different.]
[Since my surname is so often misspelled I am used to giving it as Golf-India-Romeo-Alpha-Romeo-Delta. That gets the job done, and the reply is sometimes: Thank you for your service. To which I must respond: I did not have that honor sir (or ma’am)].
The beginnings of “Roger Dodger” seem apocryphal, but it is a good story, nonetheless. According to legend: a naval pilot was returning from a very successful WW2 mission. Feeling quite jolly and cocky, and upon receiving landing instructions from control, he replied “Roger Dodger.” Very, very unmilitary. The reply is simply “Roger.”
Radios of the squadron came alive with the shouting of a senior officer at control who had overheard the wisecrack. Such undisciplined comments are simply not acceptable over military channels. To which the pilot replied (knowing that his reply was anonymous; it could be from anyone on that frequency): “Roger Dodger, you old codger.”
Another essay foray could be into the use of exclamation points, as in the 1960’s TV show name “Combat!”, which was my first experience with a formal name or title having an exclamation point; this was decades before Yahoo!, and Yum! type product branding. I was too young and unsophisticated to know of the famous musicals “Oklahoma!” and “Hello Dolly!” [Soon thereafter would arrive the cookie brand, “Chips Ahoy!”, then came so many it became silly.]
What I recall of Combat! and 12 O’clock High is that they were obviously military oriented … one army air force, the other infantry army. They were not silly, but very serious. The suffering – both physical and psychological – was real. Personal struggles. Seeing and dealing with pain, injury, aloneness, death.
So, how did Roger Ramjet get his name? Did Roger get his name from military roots? No. Like the name “SS Minnow” it was simpler and even less meaningful. It turns out that the name Roger Ramjet just had a good “ring” to it. Ramjet was from ramjet, a type of forced-air-breathing jet engine. And Roger was the name of a reporter (Roger Smith) who joked during an interview with executive producer (Fred Crippen) during the show’s initial creation that the main character’s name should be Roger. So it was, … and so much for branding back in the day.
“Roger” has made it over to emails and texts – well, at least in mine. If I reply:
- “Roger”, then I received and understood your message.
- “Roger That”, then I received, understood and I agree.
- “Roger Dodger”, then I received, understood and I am feeling a bit goofy or lighthearted – or perhaps I think you are being supercilious. But I won’t add “You old codger.”
Joe Girard © 2020
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