Those were the days,

I guess, when things were simpler, nicer. TV wasn't all murders, rapes, other and various crimes, and the fascinating lives of celebrities. Not that there is any connection. Oh yes, and fake reality shows.

And that's what I'm talking about, what was on TV. Shows like Space Patrol and What's My Line? and Believe It or Not, and we, the viewing public, liked them. We thought they were good entertainment. My, but weren't we simple?

I remember the host of Believe It or Not, Art Baker, a handsome white-haired man who always wore what looked to be a white suit. (Black and white TV.)

I fell in love with Art Baker. He was smooth and pleasant and had a wonderful speaking voice. (Later, when I saw him in one of his early movies and he was the bad guy--smooth and subtle but really bad--I fell out of love. So disappointing. I was just a kid, remember.)

I might have stopped watching Believe It or Not.

But here's the kind of thing the show featured. Drum roll, some kind of lead-up-to-it music: a man who could tear the Los Angeles phone book in two. Amazing.

Wouldn't you like to see that?