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Good night, Jack - THE COMMENTARY

By Joseph Planta

VANCOUVER -- Jack Cullen was, in all honesty, my first hero. Growing up I idolised Sinatra and then Jack. Whilst realising as time went on that Sinatra wasn’t so much a saint, Cullen remained a hero, because he did things I would have loved to do. Who wouldn’t want to get drunk with Judy Garland, or bring Nat King Cole to tears with a bold anecdote that he was forced to admit?

Jack Cullen was my first radio listen. His Owl Prowl was the show I listened to regularly, a mere kid at the snotty age of 10 or so. Now, a decade later, I listen to CKNW religiously and it was thanks to Jack. I tuned in for his show after the 9:00pm news, and then started tuning in later into the midnight hour with David Berner. Than earlier, in the evening with Till and McComb. Afternoons with Rick Honey. Mornings with Rafe Mair, and earlier mornings with Frosty Forst, and so on and so forth. Jack Cullen not only introduced me to the music of Sinatra and Basie, Mel Torme and Ella Fitzgerald; but he also introduced me to CKNW, a part of my life, as I’m sure it is amongst other Vancouverites.

Jack Cullen’s death this past Saturday was a shock. One talker said it was a medical miracle he lived to the age of 80. And even though you knew it had to come, when I found out yesterday morning I was shocked. Jack Cullen didn’t do a music show per se. He did more than spin Dick Haymes or Helen Forrest records. Though when he did, they were rare, scratchy gems he played, if not bootlegged. He played old transcriptions of radio shows. I know Cecil B. DeMille not for The Greatest Show on Earth or for his cameo in Sunset Boulevard, but because he was the executive producer of the Lux Radio Theater. I know who The Great Gildersleeve was or who Fibber McGee and Molly were, thanks to Jack Cullen. And sometimes the Owl Prowl, would also air interviews he did with the singers and musicians of a bygone era. For someone who grew to appreciate the way things were prior to my existence beginning, it was more than a treat.

My elementary school years were spent at Charles Dickens Elementary in East Vancouver. It was a tad odd that I listened to Sinatra, whilst kids my age were listening to something contemporary. I did not care frankly, as I took some solace that Jack Cullen went to the same school. It was odd though that I knew more about Lillian Gish, than Nicole Kidman.

When CKNW gutted his Owl Prowl show in the late 1990s, I realised that I was getting old myself. Here I was getting out of high school and everytime his theme hit the airwaves -- that well worn track of “Girl Talk” -- I remembered being a wee lad going to bed at 9:00 nodding off listening to the Cullen show. Now I was staying up past his old 11:00 Network Replay, and I realised I was getting older. When the station relegated him to weekends, I was disappointed. I went to one of his fund-raisers at the Chan Centre out at UBC for the Capilano College band. He had an unkind word or two for management, but he was witty as usual and naturally the real showman. When I heard the band tune up his theme “Girl Talk”, sitting in that darkened theatre, I remembered again the many nights when that theme came over the ‘NW airwaves, me curled up in bed listening to some old Jack Benny program or Sammy Davis Jr. covering some old Cole Porter gem.

I always wanted to be Jack Cullen. It would have been fun staying up late hitting all the swanky clubs of the day -- Isy’s, the Marco Polo, the Cave -- they were all gone by the time I was born, but somehow listening to Jack Cullen every night, he was the key to this city’s remarkable past. Nowadays we’ve got Arnold Schwarzenegger or any old Hollywood bimbo shopping on Robson. In the heyday of night life in this town, Jack Cullen, Jack Wasserman, and Hugh Pickett would be running around having a late supper with Lena Horne or Duke Ellington and it was big news. Wasserman would have something in the Sun the next day, and Cullen could have an exclusive interview on ‘NW. Whenever he’d play an old interview of his, I swear you could smell the rum and cigarettes off of his breath.

I once wrote Jack a letter. I thought he’d read it and probably be too busy to answer it. I had so many questions about his show and Sinatra and Judy Garland, that I wasn’t holding my breath. Well one day after Christmas one year, I answer the telephone and in that booming voice: “Hey, I’m looking for a 12 year old kid named Joseph Planta.” Thinking I was on the radio and had just won some prize, I enthusiastically said yes, this was he. And without missing a beat came: “Hi Joseph, this is Jack Cullen.” He had my letter right there with him and proceeded to answer my 8 or 10 questions over the phone, one even impressed him and I was naturally over the moon. That was real class on his part, and I have always treasured the 8 by 10 shot of him, probably from the ‘70s (wide collars and all), clutching a CKNW mike. It’s signed, and on the back he wrote “I get complaints that I play too much Sinatra, but we’ll do more!” It used to hang in my room, but it’s out above my desk, where I can look up to him from time to time. I did that growing up, as I am sure many did through his many years entertaining this town. I’ve always missed him since he was dumped by CKNW, but now that he gone I’ll miss the wit, the knowledge, and the great memories even more. I have the feeling, I’m not the only one saying ‘Good night, Jack’ just about now.

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