REDHEAD – May 28

Chris and I were returning from New York City — why we were there I cannot recall — perhaps it was a business meeting with NBC’s Bruce Williams in the late 1980s — but we had stayed at the HILTON and flew 1st Class on AMERICAN AIRLINES.

Sitting directly in front of us as we returned to Rochester were two prominent show biz personalities: Red Skelton and Buffalo Bob Smith.

Buffalo Bob Smith, of Howdy Doody fame, would have grabbed our attention on his own, but in the company of Red Skelton, I knew who would dominate our conversation.

“I ran into Buffalo Ben at the TCM studios,” Skelton explained, “and he asked me to guest on his show all next month — and since I have a day or two off next week, I said, what the heck, why not? So, I am on my way to Cleveland to be on Brent’s show! God bless!”

Never one to look a gift horse in the nose, I said, “So, you will stop in Rochester on your way back to the City and be my guest on The Inside on the Outside, What Goes With the Weather!”

“Hmmmm,” said the Redhead, “I never appeared as a weatherman on a TV show before. God bless!”

I met him at the airport in Rochester a week or so later, and it was the fourth clue I had that he was hard of hearing, almost stone-deaf.

“So,” he said, as we waited in baggage claim for his luggage, “you are Bob Mayor, the Mayor of Dayton, New York. Jones and his puppets have nothing on you! God bless!”

Red Skelton had no idea where he was or who I was; on the way to the studio, Skelton asked, “Where am I staying?”

I told him I had a rather large house in Fonthill Park.

“Oh,” said Red Skelton, “Hotel Fonthill in a large park. I’ve heard of it; sounds grand! God bless!”

It was only 5:20, an hour before the show, so there was ample time to introduce the comedian to our newscaster, Tom Decker. I escorted Red into Decker’s office.

“I want you to meet Mr. Red Skelton,” I said. “I am sure no introduction is necessary.”

Decker did not look up from his typewriter. “Just don’t run over,” he growled.

“Mr. Skelton will assist me on the show.”

“Just don’t go too long!” Decker repeated, “Don’t go over!” sucking on his pipe.

In the studio, I showed the redhead the set where Decker and I did our thing. “Tom sits over there,” I pointed out, “and I stand there.”

“Where do I sit?” Skelton asked.

“Right here, beside me.”

Tom Decker came in then, and Red sat beside him at the anchor desk.

When the show was well underway, Decker suddenly said, “Back in a moment but first here is Bob Mills with the Inside on the Outside — and his special guest tonight — the irrepressible comedic network star, Red Skelton!”

For the next twelve minutes or so, I turned Skelton loose, and needless to say, he was superb.

“I have never played second fiddle,” he said, “or been a Weatherman before! In fact, Bob Deck-hand doesn’t even look like a terrorist — are you sure you are, for sure, A REAL, HONEST-TO-GOD-CROSS-YOUR-HEART, A GEN-U-WINE, A REAL WEATHERMAN? God bless!”

We went on like this for 12 minutes, and Decker said later in the bathroom, as we washed off our makeup, “I knew you would run over, but I let you go. Your buddy sure is funny, ain’t he? But then he oughtta be — for sixteen mill a year!”

Red Skelton and I became close and fast friends after an unusual night at my house in Fonthill Park — in fact, we spent time at his place at Glendale when I was in Hollywood a few years later.

“God bless!” as Red would say.




Robert A. Mills
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