Rumor Has It

It comes as a surprise to people under 80 that I have a famous name.  Surprise, surprise!

Mark Clark was a general in World War II who led fighting in North Africa and Italy and retired to run The Citadel, a military college in Charleston, S.C. There is a stretch of highway down that way named for Mark Clark, and I can't remember a summer since digital photography came into vogue that some friend or other hasn't sent me a picture of the highway sign named for "me." In fact, I just got this GPS screen shot the other day to add to the collection, and I always appreciate being remembered like this!

The only regret I have over my connection to the general is that he did not have a colorful nickname that I could have taken for my own...you know, something really cool like Gen'l Mark "Old Blood And Guts" Clark, or Mark "Baby Face Pretty Boy" Clark. That last one might not have suited a general too well, but as it turns out, the nickname my grandma gave me, "Marky Mark," was stolen by some actor and hamburger vendor from Boston, leaving me without a nickname.

Here's the reason I bring all this up. It happens every time I deal with someone old enough to remember World War II - I give them my name, and their face lights up with memories of the day when General Clark was chasing the Nazi Rommel all over the deserts of Egypt. And even if asked if I were named for the great soldier, I have to say no (it was for the Biblical Mark).

The latest was the other day when I went to pick something up at a store, and once he had my name, the clerk, one of those fellas who is clearly retired from somewhere else but is working at a store just to be around people, so ebullient is he, told me about hearing war stories on the radio as a kid.

And then he told The Bob Keeshan Story, and I decided to let it float on by.

You've probably heard all about this one. I sure have, at least a dozen times, the legend of how Lee Marvin was on the Tonight Show and told Johnny Carson that yeah, he was a Marine and got shot in the war, but that "the toughest guy he ever saw was Sgt Bob Keeshan, who saved countless lives with his heroics at Iwo Jima."


And then the teller always asks if I know who Bob Keeshan was, and yes, I know, he was Captain Kangaroo on the television years ago, and what I used to tell people, but no longer bother to, is that Keeshan was a Marine, but he joined up after the Battle of Iwo Jima and never saw any combat.

The other version of the story is that Fred Rogers, TV's Beloved Mister, was such a tough sailor in his days, a Seal in Viet Nam with countless kills to his credit, and so many scars and tattoos on his arms that he had to wear that long-sleeved sweater at all times to hide his arms from the kids.

Fact is, Fred Rogers, who was in his mid-40s at the height of the Viet Nam War, never served in any branch of the military. It's all right here, if you want to read all about it.

Just how these stories get started is something to ponder, but refuting them no longer interests me. How does it alter my life any if this nice old man at the drugstore has such kind thoughts about Captain Kangaroo, and how would it improve either of our lives to set the record straight?

Holy Cow. I might be growing up.