Well, I'll be damned department

I remember John Crossen as MR. WONDERFUL, his nom de plume when he was being an advertising copywriter. He was good at it, as with most things he turns his hand to. I know, for example, that he’s a very sharp astronomer, with his own observatory… Buckhorn Observatory. When he attended parties given by our friends the Hickeys, he brought along his own supply of kickass, spicy snacks, so I know he can handle the hot stuff.
What I didn’t know was that John Crossen co-wrote the theme song to that ages-old, perennial TV show, The Littlest Hobo. The subject came up last night at one of those congenial Hickey dinner parties. John still receives royalty payments for the piece because it continues to get air play, over 3 decades later.
I hope my little example here won’t require me to send him a cheque.

Littlest Hobo personal experience…
Back in the 70s, in West Vancouver, the trainer of the 4 dogs who played “Hobo” was a special guest at a small house party I attended. Chuck Eisenmann was all showman and worked with his dogs as smoothly in the living room as he might have done onstage. He insisted that his dogs were intelligent beings who understood English and could reason and observe for themselves. His German Shepherds were not just trained puppets, he asserted, and then proceeded to prove it.
I don’t recall many details of the “show” but he did have the 4 dogs go around the room, identifying people that Mr. Eisenmann named. They could also take direction from the guests. How did the dogs know who was who? We were told that they had been instructed to pay attention to names as people arrived at the party. Perhaps the trainer was cueing his dogs with signals but he took some pains to stay out of their view. The dogs didn’t look around to him for hints, either. They went straight over to the right person.
They seemed to know guests’ relationships, too. When one of the dogs was told to find Mr. Smith’s wife’s purse, it looked at Mr. Smith, then around the room to where Mrs. Smith was sitting. Her purse was sitting on the floor beside her and the dog went over to tap it with its nose.
The whole thing was quite convincing.
This was a long time ago, so I had to look up the name of the trainer. Turns out he lived a good, long life… dying only a couple of years ago at the age of 91.