Memorable Christmas past: Bob Hope Show in frozen Korea

For this week, I thought I’d table the piece I’d planned to write and cash in on the Christmas holiday, even though I’m a day late and a dollar short…the story of my life. With nothing better to do, I began thinking over Christmases past and which ones were memorable. I dredged up the one I spent in Korea as an expertly-trained, potentially-dangerous, killing-machine in Uncle Sam’s Army. The most memorable thing about that Xmas was that the Bob Hope Show was in the Korean DMZ to entertain the frozen troops. I’d watched all of Bob’s Christmas Specials while I was growing up and felt this would be my one opportunity to be a part of entertainment history, sitting in a sea of olive drab-clad bodies, just like the audiences of soldiers I’d seen over the years. My decision was made; I was attending, come hell or Kim Jong-il.

I rushed around the barracks to round up others who would want to come along. The Bob Hope Show is an institution, I said. This is your one chance in a lifetime. The others replied that being in the Army in this cold, God-forsaken country, was enough of a one chance in a lifetime. No thanks. Eventually, my lower bunkmate, Paul, a man who obviously appreciated the historical significance of the event, said he’d go with me.

The day of the show happened to be the coldest day of the relatively mild, 1970 Korean Winter: Three degrees with snow already on the ground. At least the sun was out. In preparation, I bundled myself in two pieces of all my Army-issue clothing.

Only one Army bus made a bumpy run up north in the morning and made a bumpy return trip to Seoul in the late afternoon. Fortunately, the show was scheduled for midday so we’d be able to get there and back. Unfortunately, the bus dropped us off three hours before show time. I was shocked to find most of the seats already filled, so Paul and I sat on a hill on top of small bleachers where we enjoyed the gentle breezes whistling through the open spaces under our seats. It was like a weekend in Bermuda, only without the locals hawking souvenirs. And no beer, no hot dogs, no coffee, no pork rinds, nothing. Just sitting and waiting and freezing.

At about the two-hour mark a helicopter arrived and everybody cheered. But it was only Les Brown and His Band of Renown and technicians. Nearly an hour later another helicopter landed and spit out all the show people: The Goldiggers, Miss World, Johnny Bench of the Cincinnati Reds baseball team, and Bob Hope.

I’d actually met Bob Hope years before in Chicago. Every Summer the City used to hold an entertainment festival in Soldier Field. My mother was somewhat of a show biz groupie and took us to see anything in the city resembling entertainment, which enabled me to see some of the best: Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis, Sid Caesar and Your Show of Shows, the Jackie Gleason Show with his Joe the Bartender, the Poor Soul, Reggie Van Gleason, the Honeymooners, and Frankie Lane (whom we met backstage because my mother and he were in the school choir together), among others.

Back to Bob. My mother didn’t like the seats we had in Soldier Field, so she took my sister and me by the hand and pulled us down on the field and over to the stage right wing, where the show people hung out before they went out to perform. Leo Carrillo, Pancho from the Cisco Kid, was there with his horse. He was very friendly, but pretty well shnockered, Pancho, not the horse. He got on his horse, picked up my sister and put her in front of him in the saddle and made his horse do a wheelie or whatever you call what horses do when they whinny and stand up on their hind legs, while Leo yelled, “Adios, amigos!” My sister failed to see the significance or the humor in this and started crying. It was time for inebriated Pancho to make his entrance, so he handed her down to my mother and strode on to the stage with a wave and a “See you soon!”

Bob Hope was the headliner that night and after chatting with us and cracking a joke or two, got up on a float that carried him on stage to do his bit. Now, can you imagine anybody today just wandering out of the audience to hang out in the wings with the performers without being tasered and cuffed before getting within striking distance of the stage? But I digress.

By the time the Christmas show began in Seoul, my toes were numb and my exposed facial flesh and possibly an internal organ or two were headed in that direction. But we enjoyed the show, feeling sorry for the barely-clad Goldiggers, laughing at the Bob’s jokes, cheering for Johnny Bench, whistling at Miss World. It ended with everyone singing “Silent Night.” But for Paul and me, the fun wasn’t over because we still had an hour wait for the bus to take us back. The ride “home” was just as bumpy as the ride up, but at least we were out of the elements. I did mange to snap a picture of the last operating MAS*H in Korea and a couple of days later got to watch the Bob Hope Christmas Show on TV while having some brews in the comfort of our barracks. Remembering my frozen body parts, that might have been the smart thing to do in the first place.