bhlr
Joined Dec 2006
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bhlr's rating
I've noticed most of the comments on this film have come from guys who saw "Davy Crockett" back in the fifties and sixties. I just want to assure those folks that Fess Parker was still working his magic years later.
In the early eighties, when I was about nine years old, HBO or one of those channels ran the entire series. After we watched it, us kids around the neighborhood were piling up firewood behind our fences to make a sort of rampart upon which to stand while we defended the Alamo from old Santy' Anna. We didn't have the coonskin caps, but we did have active imaginations. Some of us even took it upon ourselves to learn more about the battle. Surely our teachers were mystified when, at that years history fair and contest, half of the boys entered carefully constructed miniatures of the battle, composed of Play-Do, pencils, and toy soldiers.
I guess the show still had an impact on me later on when I was in the military. I learned from Fess Parker to make every shot count. When the time came, I did. I suspect quite a few of our nation's finest marksmen learned that from him as well.
I won't go into the artistic or historic discrepancies of the film. Nor will I ramble on about politics in the so-called Age of Jackson, the causes of the Texan war for independence, or the speculations made about the death of David Crockett. This is a film for kids (regardless of age), and should be enjoyed as such. But one more thing has to be thrown in.
On a late autumn night about six years ago I got the news that my grandfather had passed away. I went home and sat alone in the dark in my living room feeling that terrible numbness that we've all known at such times. I must have sat there a couple of hours before I found the TV control and hit the switch, mainly so there would be some light.
On the screen were Fess Parker and Buddy Ebson, just beginning their adventure with the river pirates. For an hour or so I was able to smile a bit and feel a little of what I once had when I had first seen re-runs of that show twenty years before. Then I got some sleep and was able to wake up and face reality with a little more grit than I might otherwise have had.
If Fess Parker ever reads this, I hope he knows how grateful I was, and am.
In the early eighties, when I was about nine years old, HBO or one of those channels ran the entire series. After we watched it, us kids around the neighborhood were piling up firewood behind our fences to make a sort of rampart upon which to stand while we defended the Alamo from old Santy' Anna. We didn't have the coonskin caps, but we did have active imaginations. Some of us even took it upon ourselves to learn more about the battle. Surely our teachers were mystified when, at that years history fair and contest, half of the boys entered carefully constructed miniatures of the battle, composed of Play-Do, pencils, and toy soldiers.
I guess the show still had an impact on me later on when I was in the military. I learned from Fess Parker to make every shot count. When the time came, I did. I suspect quite a few of our nation's finest marksmen learned that from him as well.
I won't go into the artistic or historic discrepancies of the film. Nor will I ramble on about politics in the so-called Age of Jackson, the causes of the Texan war for independence, or the speculations made about the death of David Crockett. This is a film for kids (regardless of age), and should be enjoyed as such. But one more thing has to be thrown in.
On a late autumn night about six years ago I got the news that my grandfather had passed away. I went home and sat alone in the dark in my living room feeling that terrible numbness that we've all known at such times. I must have sat there a couple of hours before I found the TV control and hit the switch, mainly so there would be some light.
On the screen were Fess Parker and Buddy Ebson, just beginning their adventure with the river pirates. For an hour or so I was able to smile a bit and feel a little of what I once had when I had first seen re-runs of that show twenty years before. Then I got some sleep and was able to wake up and face reality with a little more grit than I might otherwise have had.
If Fess Parker ever reads this, I hope he knows how grateful I was, and am.