Meeting Count Scary
On the heroes who live next door
Meeting my Heroes is an occasional essay series from Matt Carmichael.
Perhaps one of the first heroes I met was literally the hero next door.
I know it’s hard to imagine now, but when I was growing up if you wanted to listen to a song, you had to own a record (or tape of it.) Or you could call a radio station that played that type of music and request that they play your song, which they might or the probably wouldn’t.
That’s what I spent a lot of the money I’d earn mowing our lawn on: music, from Harmony House, Sam’s Jams, Repeat the Beat and other local record stores.
Growing up I lived next door to Tom and Joan Sankovich. They were a nice couple, with a cute dog named Dooley. I would walk him sometimes. Tom was better known as Tom Ryan, which was his DJ name. He was half of a long-running morning show team with Dick Purtan on WNIC and WMOC, which broadcast out of Windsor, Canada. Every morning Tom would get up before the sun and drive his Corvette over the boarder, slowing slightly and waving at the customs agents who all knew him well.
He also had another name, that came with another car. He was Count Scary. Count Scary was the cool, kookie host of horror movies on a local TV station around Halloween, and a character on Tom’s radio show. Kind of a local celebrity. He did commercials, had a couple of songs on the radio and even had his own fan club, of which I was of course a member.
Now you can find Count Scary videos on YouTube. And there are some cool interviews and stories about Tom Ryan, where I learned a lot about my former neighbor.
He was also a super nice guy. He was always giving me Count Scary swag. Even asked my opinion on if he should change out his trademark Converse for a new pair of Nikes. (I said he should stick with the original kicks, and he did.)
When they moved, he left me an amazing present: two boxes of 45 rpm records, otherwise known as singles. Each record had two songs on it and the artists were a lot of names I knew, and have tried to teach my kids as part of their musical education: The Beatles, Little Richard, Elvis, the Temptations, the Four Tops, Jan and Dean and The Beach Boys. It was a rich collation of rocknroll history. I would listen to them one-by-one on my little record player in my room, or the stereo in the living room. I learned a lot by listening to those songs by the bands I knew and by the bands I didn’t know.
Because he was a DJ he got a lot of special records, too, such as the first Beatles single released in the U.S.: “My Bonnie” and “When the Saints go Marching in,” performed with the Tony Sheridan Orchestra. There were also weird records and public service announcements.
It was a pretty insignificant thing for him to give away — he had no shortage of other records, but for me it was a treasure, and one I still keep in my basement.
I had a chance to thank him for that many years later. My dad and I were shopping for a tool chest for my first house at one of the big box hardware stores. I saw Mr. Ryan at the check-out and called him by his birth name which confused him. He said he hadn’t used that name in ages. I’m glad I got to share how much that collection meant to me, and how much that legacy of great songs still does. I think he was happy to hear that, too.
Being thoughtful is amazing. But even a little off-handed generosity can go a long way.
