Insight: Dopplegangers and Palominos

Around the age of 12, I came to a somber realization regarding a popular television show and that was I was doomed forever to live with it.

The show was called “Mister Ed” and it was a comedy about a talking Palomino horse named Mister Ed who was voiced by actor Allan “Rocky” Lane and only spoke to his owner, a character named Wilbur Post portrayed by actor Alan Young. When Wilbur would ask Mister Ed why he never spoke to anyone else, the horse said that Wilbur was the only human he ever met who was worth talking to.

Entering eighth grade at Carlton Webster Jr. High School in Henrietta, New York in September 1966, classmates and students at my school quickly made the connection between my name and the “Mister Ed” television show.

At first, it was funny when someone would come up from behind me while I was standing at my school locker and whinny and neigh like a horse or point at me in the hallway as I made my way between classes and shout “Oh Wilbur.” It happened so frequently that it became routine for me to look the pranksters in the eye and say, “how original of you” or “can I have a carrot?”

Once, I walked to my locker to find that some joker had taped five covers of a TV Guide magazine featuring a photo of the palomino horse and Alan Young to the front of it. While walking through the hall that same day, Mr. Daboll, the school principal, saw the TV Guide photo collage and immediately summoned me to his office.

He instructed me to take the TV Guide photos down at once. I did as he asked but a tiny bit of scotch tape remained near the top of my locker for the rest of the time that I attended junior high before moving on to high school.

Eventually the “Mister Ed” gags pulled on me by classmates subsided when the television program was canceled and the show appeared less frequently on television in reruns on Saturday afternoons.

But about the time I was glad that the running joke was finally over, my mother suggested that I happened to be a doppleganger for a popular singer and guitarist whose songs were climbing the charts and made frequent appearances on television. That celebrity was Glen Campbell and although I had only heard a few of his songs, I would absolutely cringe when discussions came up at the dinner table between members of my family about how much I looked like him.

Campbell seemed to be everywhere at the time. When we went to the movie theater to see “True Grit” starring John Wayne, and there he was acting in the film alongside the famous cowboy actor. I’d turn on the radio and one of Campbell’s songs such as “Wichita Lineman” or “Galveston” or “Try a Little Kindness” or “Where’s the Playground Susie” would be playing. He hosted his own weekly TV show called “The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour” on CBS.

My father would be out in the garage and if I needed to ask him a question about something, inevitably he’d be whistling Campbell’s “By the Time I get to Phoenix” song. Detaching myself from the constant comparisons was quite the mission.

Avoiding Glen Campbell became a daily ritual for me as I graduated from high school and started college in the fall of 1971. I wouldn’t buy his records or watch his television show. When he appeared on the “Tonight” show with Johnny Carson, I would switch the channel. I did sit through a movie called “Norwood” at the drive-in theater while on a date as a college freshman because legendary football quarterback Joe Namath of the New York Jets co-starred, but the movie’s main character was Campbell as a country bumpkin trying to become a radio singer in New York City.

As I got married and started my professional career, the comparisons with Campbell became fewer and it no longer bothered me for people to mention that I resembled him. When his song “Rhinestone Cowboy” was released in 1975, I broke my self-imposed rule and purchased the album. To my surprise, Glen Campbell was one of the best and most distinctive guitarists I ever listened to and I found that I genuinely enjoyed his music.

Through the years, I’ve always had a copy of “20 Greatest Hits” by Glen Campbell with me whenever I need to drive long distance on a road trip and my memories of disliking him have long since faded. The same thing holds true to a lesser extent for the “Mister Ed” television show, although I still wonder about how the show’s production staff got the Palomino horse to learn the rhythm of conversation and to move his lips on cue as the actor providing his voice spoke the dialogue that was required in the scripts.

More than 60 years removed from my angst about being compared to Glen Campbell or teased that my name was the same as a famous talking television horse, I can only laugh about it today. But back when I was a teenager, it wasn’t very amusing. <