I was sad to learn of Bruno's passing this week. That got me to thinking about an earlier time, and many hours spent watching him on television. He came to Pittsburgh as a young teenager, and embodied the dedication, hard work, and toughness of the city., as well as its core of kindness and dignity.
Early
Saturday evenings good and evil
Early Saturday evenings good and evil
contested in the ring with commercial interruptions.
Like moths to a flame we sat, transfixed by
machinations of the Kangaroo Twins and other
assorted villains, Ringside Rosie wailing like a
one-woman
Greek chorus until Bruno Samartino thundered deus ex machina
with a pin that restored justice to the universe.
Later on upstairs, a smaller TV set flickered, drawing
us as
some beacon to weary sailors on unfriendly seas.
Clutching a bottle of root beer, I sat next to my Dad
watching the fights from the Garden, trying to outdraw
Matt Dillon
on the streets of Dodge City, or Hollywood versions of
World War II with live running commentary.
Those were our rituals, anchoring us as another week
ended,
pricking my imagination, opening new places for
adventure
with every round and episode.
How could so-called experts recoil at watching these?
I never dreamed
of spraying my school with lead
or turning a cinema into a slaughterhouse.
Filling primetime with drivel made no difference.
Cartoon-length commercials for a line of toys
or thirty minutes of smart-alecky brats
mouthing off at idiotic adults will not
ensure violence-free futures and sunny skies.
Now I sit in the den and view a limited selection
of teams and movies hoping to recapture a moment
when all that is good and pure will be restored
within the ring or on the streets of Dodge.
Arthur Turfa, Places and Times, ©2015
eLectio Publishing
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