t is well known that Wallace is not a big fan of clowns and puppets. But, he has a knack for spotting talent, and Dan Horn changed his mind—at least about puppets. Dan Horn was different; a believable ventriloquist with respectable technique and a flair for comedy who, among other contributions, could write. He brought talent that then as well as now is very rare to find; with puppets that didn’t look like they would come to life and stab you in your sleep; although, Wallace may get a kickout of that! But, this is Dan’s story.
Dan was born in December 1958, in Reno, Nevada, a son of an Air Force aircraft engine mechanic who had recently fulfilled his term of enlistment. Dan’s dad, newly recruited by Airesearch in Phoenix, moved his little family of four (Dan, the younger of two boys) in early 1959 to Tempe, Arizona, to an area, as it turned out, only a handful of blocks away from where Ladmo and his family lived. Dan attended Holdeman Elementary, Gilliland Middle School, and graduated from Tempe High (in the top 10% of his class). He went on to study music composition at Mesa Community College, but got derailed from completing his musical education when one day during a choir practice a wormy-looking puppet with long, flipping hair suddenly popped up in the baritone section. “Cassandra,” as the redhead was named, propelled Dan in a whole new direction.
Back in 1959, when the Horns arrived in the Valley, KPHO’s “kid’s show” was five years old and thriving. Who can say when Dan Horn officially became a “Wallace Watcher”? However, this much is sure—he never knew a time (prior to 1989, when the show finally left the air) when Wallace wasn’t on TV. At an early age, the show crept into his consciousness until it became a regular, unshakeable habit. All the while growing up in Tempe, like every other Arizona child, Dan could not resist the 4:00pm call of It’s Wallace?. The show’s theme music Oriental Blues beckoned like a siren. For Dan it meant cartoons and laughs as he sat on a braded rug in front of the family console black-and-white TV. As the swamp cooler rattled and the TV’s snowy picture rolled occasionally, Dan munched bologna sandwiches on white bread with Miracle Whip, glued to the antics on the tube. Rabbit ear antennas brought a similar experience to other kids plopped in front of other TV sets. But, Dan didn’t think about that. This was a personal time and he knew Wallace was talking directly to him—that Wallace could see into his living room. Watching the show, Dan knew Wallace was his friend—even though Wallace never acknowledged his repeated efforts in front of the TV to get his attention. Yes, Dan Horn remembers standing at his television screen yelling, “Hi, Wallace, hi, Wallace,” in vain attempts to get Wallace to notice him. Okay, so Dan was a clod. But, he was a young kid and eventually, he figured out the world of TV. Eventually, Wallace did notice him and Dan become part of that world.
Dan attended Holdeman Elementary school along with another boy by the name of Jamie Kwiatkowski, one of Ladmo’s sons. Although the Horns and the Kwiatkowskis lived in the same community, Dan and Jamie were worlds apart. Jamie was athletic, personable and one of the “cool” kids who would have been just as popular even if his dad didn’t happen to be a TV star. Dan, on the other hand, was lousy at sports, had few “real” friends and was the personification of “un-cool.” He had fallen into the role of school scapegoat sometime earlier following his disastrous decision to bring one of his puppet “friends”—a doll in the eyes of the other students—to school. (More about what led up to this infamous day later.) Although Dan and Jamie were classmates, they were not exactly friends due to Dan’s dubious (although, seemingly evident) status as a “sissy.” Somewhere around 3rd or 4th grade, the two boys got into an after-school fight over the ownership of a small green army man in Dan’s possession. Dan, who had found the item (what would today be called an “action figure”) on the playground, was accused of having stolen it from Jamie’s desk.
“Not so!” cried Dan.
“Uh-huh,” grunted Jamie.Puffing and posturing ensued. Dan, an easily intimidated sort, not used to being picked on (although, it seemed to be happening a lot more since that aforementioned puppet debacle), had no idea how to defend himself. Finally, after more taunting and bravado (oh, and a few well placed strikes upon Dan’s knuckles from Jamie’s sticky Tootsie Pop) the toy was seized from Dan’s grip.
Truly believing himself the injured party, as he had not stolen the figure, but indeed had found it, and spurred by righteous indignation fueled by the relevant legal precedent of Finders-Keepers, Dan retaliated the way any sissy—er, kid in his situation would. He clobbered the side of Jamie’s head with his metal Munsters lunch box, conveniently poised in his other hand; then, ran home to tell his mommy.
That night, standing face to face with Jamie at Jamie’s house, in his living room, Dan’s mother and Jamie’s dad, Ladmo, lectured the two boys about getting along. The toy had proved to be Jamie’s; it matched others in a set he had. But, Jamie apologized for his tactics reclaiming it. Dan apologized for hitting Jamie in the head with his lunch box, although the greater damage occurred to the lunch box with Herman Munster’s face on the side permanently dented inward.
However awkward and embarrassing, this was Dan Horn’s first encounter with Ladmo, whom he loved and admired from television and with whom he would closely work with years later. Dan and Jamie never really became friends, but they managed to co-exist without incident for their remaining school years together. At their ten year high school reunion in 1986, both were actually pleased to see each other and had a good laugh over their after school bout so many years before. One day at the station, Dan brought up the subject and Ladmo assured him he had no memory of the incident. Dan suspects that that was true, but if it wasn’t, he feels it was awfully nice of Ladmo to pretend. But, that was Ladmo.
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