Andy Rose wrote to ask…

I'm curious as to how you are able to sleep effectively at times when most of the rest of the world isn't. I used to work overnight shifts, and I was never able to sleep entirely comfortably on those days. Even with blackout curtains and the phone turned off, I couldn't stop the birds from chirping, sirens from going by, neighbors from mowing their lawns, or the occasional knock at the door.

I tried an additional sleep mask and ear plugs, but I found that they caused as many problems as they solved. The mask would often get shifted or tight as I turned in my sleep, and ear plugs would often fall out for the same reason. Is there a trick here I was missing, or are you just naturally better adapted to sleeping at random times?

I wasn't but I am these days. I never slept that well during the day but due to COVID, I've now had over 800 days of a different lifestyle. I don't have very many places I have to go and that seems to make a difference. Today, I do have somewhere to go but the next few days, probably not. It does seem to make a difference that when I go to sleep, I'm not usually thinking, "I need to be up by X:00!"

Birds chirping or sirens passing never bothered me. I think my brain has become programmed to consider them part of the norm. My gardener's leaf blower sometimes bothers me but he comes late in the afternoon, a time I rarely sleep, and only once a week. One difference from you (probably) is that I sleep with a C-PAP unit due to my sleep apnea. It gives off a comforting "white noise" to which I've become addicted.

And it also really helps that most of the projects I'm currently writing are the kind of things that don't have to be done tomorrow by 2 PM. Nothing ever kept me awake as lying there, thinking I should get back to the computer and finish what I'd been working on.

When I'm lying awake, genuinely unable to sleep, I often get up, trudge down the hall back to the computer, and write a little more. A half hour, later I give sleep another try. The key thing, at least for me, is to not stress over not sleeping.

Here's an episode of the 1966 Batman TV show with Adam West. Well, no, it isn't. What is really is is an episode of that show as it might have appeared if it had been done by students from the 4th and 5th grades at Parkview Elementary School in Van Buren, AR. Looks like they had the same budget and the same acting coach as the original…

My pal, mystery novelist Lee Goldberg, posted this on Twitter…

Let me get this straight. Trained, armed, law enforcement officers were afraid to go into the school & confront a shooter who is armed w/a AR-15…but the GOP's answer is to have a third grade teacher, armed w/a handgun, to take him on instead. Are they insane!?

I dunno…supposing the Gun Lobby had all their fire power pointed at your head and your life depended on coming up with an answer to the question, "How do we stop school shootings?" that wouldn't displease them. Could you come up with anything better? Maybe something about mental health programs which you're not going to vote for either?

My third grade teacher was a lady who was very good at teaching but she couldn't write on the blackboard without making the chalk squeal and/or break. Imagine Edith Bunker gripping a .357 Magnum, trying to take down a crazed man clad in body armor and wielding two AR-15-style rifles. Somehow, it doesn't sound like a Dirty Harry moment to me. Not even if you replaced Edith with Clint Eastwood.

Here, also from his new album, Randy Rainbow performs "Lida Rose" from The Music Man. One can't help but wonder what Meredith Willson, who wrote that show, would have thought of this. I imagine he'd already be glowing that his show was once again a smash hit on Broadway — as it will probably be the next time it's revived and the time after that and the time after that…

…and I imagine he'd be happy that people of the next century still want to perform what he wrote. But to see it performed by five gay men, all of whom are the same person — that might be a little baffling…

Friends often ask me, "Did you write anything today?" That's a harder question to answer than you might think because sometimes the answer is, "Yes, but it's nothing I would ever share with anyone." If I write a few paragraphs of something and decide "This isn't going anywhere" and I delete them, did I write anything? Or if I wrote in my head and never put it down on paper or my computer, did I write anything?

Sort of. It depends on your definitions.

The truth is that I write by some definition of the word every day. It may not be any good. It may not be anything I want anyone else to ever see. But I write something. At the moment, I'm writing this.

Lately, for reasons I can't explain to myself so I certainly can't explain them to you, I've been sleeping odd hours. My body at my current age seems to want somewhere between 5.5 and 6 hours of shuteye in every twenty-four hour period…but every so often, it wants one or two more or one or two less. And sometimes, it wants them all in a row and sometimes, it wants them serialized. A few nights ago, I slept for three hours, got up and wrote for a while, then went back to bed for three more.

The COVID lifestyle has had something to do with this. There are very few times lately when I have to get up and leave the house by a specific time. There are, of course, ZOOM meetings but they seem to get scheduled later in the day even when they involve people on East Coast time.

Back when I was doing The Garfield Show and it was produced in France, we occasionally had conference calls at 4 AM. That was because we needed to tie in Jim Davis in Muncie, Indiana and the producers in Paris. 4 AM where I am is 7 AM where Jim was and 1 PM in France. (I don't know if he still does but Jim used to be up by 6 AM. So I might send him a fax or e-mail at 3:30 AM and get an immediate reply.)

Anyway, since time has become less significant in my life, I sometimes find myself wide awake these days at 5 AM and sound asleep at 3 PM. This morn, I woke up at 6 AM and my brain was buzzing with trying to find something to post here that everyone else isn't saying about school shootings. I couldn't think of one so I began working on a story of Groo the Wanderer. This morning, his world makes a lot more sense than mine.

This essay ran here on March 7, 2015 so every reference to "yesterday" is to 3/6/15. At one point in it, I mention that a comic book I did in 1993 is scheduled to have a hardcover collection (and maybe a new sequel). The reprint volume never came out and no sequel was produced though Sergio and I still want both to happen. Also, I should mention that the car I drive still has the license plate mentioned in the story.

I buy cleaning supplies for my home a year or so at a time. Yesterday, I decide it's time…and my car could also use fueling and washing. So I get the car fueled and washed, then I drive it to a shopping center, taking a ticket on my way into the lot. I park my car. I go into a Target store there. I select Lysol and generic Windex and Swiffer refills and laundry detergent and Oxi-Clean and trash bags and many other items. I push my cart up to a checkout lane where a cheery checker asks, "Do you need a parking validation?" I do…so I reach into my pocket to get my ticket —

— and it isn't there. The ticket, not my pocket.

Figuring it fell out when I pulled my shopping list out of that very pocket, I backtrack and search the aisles. I do not find it. I ask a lady who's stocking shelves in that area if she saw a lost parking ticket. She says no, then pulls out a walkie-talkie and calls the Customer Service desk and asks them if someone has turned one in. They check and tell her yes. Ah!

I walk over to the Customer Service desk and they tell me, yes, someone did turn in a lost parking ticket…a few days ago. The ticket is dated March 3. I figure out rather quickly that it is not mine and that a two-hour validation on it won't be of much help.

Well, I think, maybe mine is in my car or near it. I pay for my purchases and head for my car where, it turns out, there is no sign of the ticket. I load everything I bought into the trunk and then, Target receipt in hand, head for the Parking Office of this lot. I explain the situation and an attendant tells me that since I lost my ticket, I must pay full price, as if I've parked there all day. Full price is $10.00, which is ten bucks more than I'd pay if I had my ticket and it had been validated.

I explain to the gentleman that I just spent $251.00 at the Target store and show him my receipt. Doesn't that deserve a little consideration? Yes, it does. He considers it and tells me that since I lost my ticket, I must pay full price, as if I've parked there all day. "That will be ten dollars," he tells me.

I explain I have not been there all day. I have been there less than an hour. He tells me that this may be so but he has no proof of that. I ask him, "If I could prove I've been here less than an hour, would you let me go without paying?" He says he would but, of course, there is no conceivable way to prove this.

I pull out my receipt from the car wash and show him that it is time-stamped 55 minutes before. It also has my car's license plate info printed on it. "As you can see," I tell him, "I was in a car wash having this car washed 55 minutes ago. The car wash is five to ten minutes away from here so the longest I could possibly have been here is 50 minutes." I tell him he can come with me up to the third parking level if he doubts me to check my car's license plate and its cleanliness.

The man, well aware he has just been Perry Masoned to within an inch of his life, thinks for a moment, then tells me I will have to talk to his boss. He phones this person to come over from another office. In five minutes, I am explaining the whole matter to the boss.

I say, "I'm a very good customer, the kind you want to encourage to come back to this shopping center and shop. I just spent $251.00 at the Target store. Why don't you just let me exit for the price I would be paying if I hadn't lost my ticket, which is zero?"

The boss mulls it over for a few moments, then tells me that since I lost my ticket, I must pay full price, as if I've parked there all day. "That will be ten dollars," he tells me.

I sigh. I am reaching for my wallet when he looks again at the receipt from the car wash. He asks, "What is MAGNOR?" I tell him that's my license plate.

He says, "I remember a comic book called Magnor. It was done by the guys who do Groo the Wanderer."

In 1993, Sergio Aragonés and I were far enough ahead on Groo that we did a mini-series about a super-hero we named Magnor. At about the same time, and certainly not because of what I was paid on Magnor, I bought a new car. On a whim, and figuring wrongly that Magnor would be around for a long time, I got that as my personalized license plate. Many thousands of miles later when I traded in that car and got a new one, I transferred the plate over and it adorns the auto I now drive.

The comic has been outta print for a long time, although it's scheduled for a hardcover collection (and maybe a new sequel) next year. Since it was last published, I have spent much of my life explaining to people in parking lots who ask what "Magnor" is. Standing there in the lot of this particular shopping center, I am amazed. I have found the one person alive, with the possible but not probable exception of Sergio, who remembers that comic.

I tell him I am indeed one of the guys who does Groo the Wanderer. He is delighted to meet me and to tell me he has "almost every issue of Groo" and for some reason, he also feels the need to tell me that though he loves Groo, his favorite comic book is DC's Secret Six by Gail Simone. He spends a considerable amount of time telling me how wonderful it is.

Attention, Gail Simone: I will send you the location of this shopping center. If you ever go there and lose your parking ticket, do not panic. The parking lot boss not only will not charge you full price, he may even give you your choice of any car in the place.

What he gives me is a free ticket to get out. Some days are better than others and this, my friends, was one of them. Ten bucks is ten bucks and by saving it, I think I just doubled my lifetime income from the Magnor comic book.

Here's another Muppets Music Video that's been online for years and I have no idea why I didn't link you to it before. What the hell good am I?

I gave up Oreos around fifteen years ago when my sweet tooth deserted me and I no longer craved cookies, ice cream, candy or anything of the sort. But I still like Ritz crackers with peanut butter on them.

In all my years though, I never thought to take a Ritz cracker covered in peanut butter and press it with one Oreo cookie covered with its creme filling. That never occurred to me and there may be a simple reason.

Back in the early seventies, I was trying to launch my career as a professional writer (including working with Jack Kirby) and also attend classes at U.C.L.A. I am in no way against higher education for some — perhaps, most — but not all. I didn't learn a damned thing at college, especially because they kept insisting I take courses that in no way related to my chosen career.

For that and other reasons I must have explained here somewhere, I decided to quit U.C.L.A., a decision that didn't sit entirely well with my father. He understood the logic. You theoretically go to college to get a better job and college was stopping me from getting a better job. But he still felt a little uncomfortable about it so as a compromise, I agreed to continue my education by taking some courses at Santa Monica College where I also didn't learn anything of value to me and eventually left.

I liked S.M.C. more than I'd liked U.C.L.A., partly because I spent a lot less time in its classrooms. I also liked that S.M.C. seemed less serious and friendlier…and being only a mile and a half from the ocean, it had a feeling of going not to school but to the beach. Some students of both genders dressed accordingly and it felt very casual. There was also this vending machine there that fascinated me.

They had the usual bank of machines that sold coffee and soft drinks and candy…but there was this one machine that sold sandwiches. I'm going to need to insert two images here so I can explain how this machine worked…

On the right there, you see a little packet of Buddig Honey Roasted Turkey. I'm sure you've seen these or something similar in your local supermarkets. Each packet contains just enough lunch meat to make one thin sandwich. Packets like this one were the basis for this machine. We didn't have the Buddig brand then. It was some other company but the chopped, reconstituted, full-of-additives products were identical.

So now look at the vending machine at left. You've seen these all over. They dispense chips and candy and cookies and other snacks, each labelled with its own price. You put in the proper amount of change, push one or more buttons to tell the machine which item you're buying and it dispenses one of it to you, dropping it into a bin at the bottom.

Well, the machine at S.M.C. was like this but it was refrigerated…and on the first row, you could select a single-serving packet of beef, a single-serving packet of chicken, a single-serving packet of turkey, a single-serving packet of something they claimed was corned beef (it wasn't) or a single-serving packet of ham.

The packets on the next row down each contained two slices of bread. You could select white, white, wheat, rye or sourdough. I remember there were always two slots for white bread.

Then the next row down had add-ons: A packet with one or two slices of American cheese, one of Swiss, one of Cheddar, and then a packet with sliced tomato and one of lettuce leaves.

The next row was condiments: Little packets of ketchup, mustard, barbecue sauce, mayo, hot sauce, etc. And then the bottom row held single-serving bags of chips — potato chips, corn chips, pretzels, etc. Since the chips were the most breakable, they must have put them on the bottom row to minimize how far they'd fall to drop into the bin.

So all you had to do was purchase the components and assemble your sandwich. I don't recall the exact prices but it went something like this: You'd buy a packet of ham (25¢), a packet with two slices of rye bread (15¢), a packet with cheddar cheese (15¢), a packet of mustard (5¢) and a bag of Ruffles potato chips (20¢). In no time at all, you'd have a ham and cheese on rye with mustard and chips for eighty cents. Or whatever your sandwich of choice was that day.

I should add: If I'm off on the prices, I'll bet I'm over. It felt more like sixty cents. Some days if I was hungry, I might splurge, put in another quarter and double-up on the meat in my sandwich.

I was just fascinated with this invention. I'd buy a Pepsi from another machine and that's how I'd lunch every day I was at S.M.C., all the time thinking, "Wow. Whoever invented this is going to make a fortune. They'll have these everywhere!" And then I never saw another one again…anywhere. In fact, I think the one at S.M.C. disappeared from that campus before I did.

As you may know, I spent a lot of time at hospitals when my mother was ill and later when my lovely friend Carolyn was failing. It was a not uncommon situation for me to be there in the middle of the night, waiting for hours, needing something to eat. I learned where to find a bank of vending machines in every hospital to which either was ever admitted. I could not, however, find any real protein in any of them — just crackers and chips and sometimes pre-made sandwiches which had been there since the discovery of Penicillin.

One time in the Emergency Room at U.C.L.A. Medical Center, I found a machine that dispensed little cups of soup which one could purchase, then heat in a microwave oven nearby. I bought some Campbell's Chicken Noodle, peeled the lid off, put it in the microwave…and then noticed the sign that said the microwave was outta-order. Once more, U.C.L.A. had failed me. So often, in the wee small hours of the morning, I longed for that machine they had back at S.M.C. and wondered why that idea never caught on.

This is not the usual kind of Randy Rainbow video. He made a special one for a song from his new CD…

My little mental "to do" list has so many items on it that I found myself wide awake in bed this morning at 5:30 AM, running over and over it in my mind, trying to decide what to tackle in what order. "Getting enough sleep" seemed to be way down in my priorities.

I finally remembered a piece of advice I've given others: In the time you spend worrying about the length of such a list, you can probably get a few things done and cross them off. So I got up and I've been sitting here since about 6, doing them in any order. Most of them are trivial and would be of no interest to you (or in some cases, to me) but they have to be done. And once I get the list down to four or five tasks, maybe I can figure out the best sequence in which to address them.

A real low priority is to watch the two-part George Carlin documentary which resides safely on my TiVo…and there it shall stay until I have the time to give it the attention I expect it deserves. My life changed somewhat for the better when I got my first Video Cassette Recorder in the mid-seventies. Suddenly, I didn't have to be in front of the TV at a specific time to watch what I wanted to watch…and if the phone rang during that show, I didn't have to pick between taking the call and not missing part of a show I felt I had to see. And when I got my first TiVo, my control of what and when I watched TV became total.

I had a friend back then who loved to see current movies and what he enjoyed even more than seeing them was talking about them. He was always rushing to see what had just opened and always leading everyone around him into discussions of the films. We had a number of exchanges that went roughly like this…

HIM: So…what did you think of it?

ME, genuinely clueless as usual: What did I think of what?

HIM, like it should have been obvious: The new Burt Reynolds movie.

ME: I think I haven't seen it yet.

HIM, truly astonished: How could you not have seen it? It opened Friday and here it is, Tuesday!

ME: I didn't see it. I had other things to do. I'll get around to seeing it when I can…maybe.

HIM: I don't understand this. You want to see it, don't you?

ME: Yeah. But correct me if I'm wrong. I think it'll be the exact same movie if I see it week after next.

It helped me a lot to realize that I could watch a TV show or see a movie when it fit into my life. There have been a lot of great (I'm told) TV series and mini-series lately that I've not made the time for because I know I can always watch them later. In this age of streaming and Blu-rays and channels that repeat and repeat, not much worth seeing is ever going to be unavailable.

So: To those of you who've written to ask me what I think of the George Carlin Doc…I think I haven't seen it yet.

But I'll tell you what I did watch: This nice hour of Jon Stewart and Judd Apatow talking, first about Carlin and then about the state of comedy in general. Their exchange about Garry Shandling and The Larry Sanders Show may be of special interest to some…

Newsweek is copying me by posting raves for Frank Ferrante. If they keep stealing my routine, I may have to retaliate by stealing theirs. Look forward to lots of articles here making inaccurate predictions about foreign wars.

MAD's maddest writer Dick DeBartolo turns out be not only a funny guy but a mensch as well. He responded promptly to my e-mail…

Mark, I am shocked, shocked do you hear me??!!! Shocked to hear the producers of To Tell The Truth were hoodwinked!

I have just turned in my resignation and will not work on any Goodson-Todman show from now on. (Actually, that won't be difficult since I left there 30 years ago. Actually, the company left me when Mark Goodson died in 1992.)

To tell the truth (not the show, but the statement) I never heard of any repercussions due to a real contestant being an impostor when I worked on the show.

My credit on the show was "Special Material" or maybe "Creative Consultant" or something like that. I wore 'ad-libs' for Garry Moore, although he was very funny on his own. Sometimes I pitched people as the main character for the show. I pitched William M. Gaines, the publisher of MAD, and they used him. (God, I hope that really was him on air! Looked a lot like him.)

Because the prize money involved was small, and audiences loved the panelists on Goodson-Todman shows, maybe no one cared if the real person was also an impostor. But to finally answer your question, I never heard any talk at the G-T offices of that happening while I was there.

Good to hear from you. I hope you're well and stay well. MADly, DickDe

Dick's credit on that To Tell the Truth was "Special Material" but his real function when he was with Goodson-Todman was to apply his considerable sense o' humor to all the company's shows, no matter what his credit was or wasn't. He pretty much saved The Match Game when the first version was heading for cancellation by devising funny questions that led to funny answers. Since then, every revival of Match Game — it feels like there have been thousands — has used the kind of questions that Dick invented.

To tie up this whole topic, here's the segment in which Bill Gaines, publisher of MAD, appeared on To Tell the Truth with two men pretending to be Bill Gaines. Impostor #2 got as many questions right as the real Bill Gaines but everyone on the panel voted for #3 — and as you'll see, that delighted the real guy. You'll also see Garry Moore mention Dick to Mr. Gaines and get the response you'd expect…

From the I-Shoulda-Known Department: I shoulda known when I posted that episode of To Tell the Truth with Mayo Kaan, I would hear from people who knew more about him than I did. And I also shoulda known it might be my friend Steven Thompson. (Actually, I should probably say "one of my friends named Steven Thompson" because I know several. Steve Thompson, the expert on Walt Kelly who helps out with the Pogo reprint books we're doing is a different Steve Thompson and I know others.)

Anyway, the Steven Thompson I'm writing about at the moment did some digging a while ago and seems to have unearthed the truth about the man with the dubious story of having been the first model for Superman. You can read his full report here but here's the summary…

He was a bodybuilder and former artist's model, a lifeguard, and a one-time Vaudevillian, who made a homemade Superman suit in order to promote war bond sales to young people in and around his home town in Massachusetts for a while in 1942 before joining the Navy. Then about 20 years on, a reporter — accidentally or on purpose — referred to him as the original Superman and the story built from there.

People with bogus stories pop up in the news every day, especially in the Internet Era when there are so many sites desperate for content and clickbait. But it is interesting that Mayo Kaan got as far as he did with his claims at a time when the creators of Superman, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, were alive and denying his story…and when the owners of Superman, DC Comics, were also saying he was a fraud.

But it is far from the only time To Tell the Truth got hoaxed. On an earlier version of the show — on the episode for November 26, 1957 — they had on a man named Jack Bothwell who claimed to have been a kid actor in the Our Gang comedies. He was not.

Here is that episode. Mr. Bothwell was in the second of three games that evening and I've configured this video so it should start playing just before that second game…

As I wrote on this very blog way back in 2002…

A few nights ago, Game Show Network ran a 1957 episode of To Tell the Truth in which one of the contestants was Jack Bothwell, a New Jersey restaurant host who said that, in his younger days, he'd played Freckles in the famous "Our Gang" comedies produced by Hal Roach. As per usual for the program, Bothwell and two impostors answered questions from the panel whose mission was to identify the real Jack Bothwell. In this case, their problem was a little more difficult because — as the show's producers obviously were unaware — all three men answering the questions were impostors. You see, there was no character named Freckles in the "Our Gang" films and Jack Bothwell never appeared in any of them.

And as you may have noticed, one of the "impostors" in the segment was Barney Martin, who later had a pretty good acting career.

I'm sure there are other examples of frauds on old game shows and I intend to get to the bottom of this. As several of you noted in e-mails to me, the Mayo Kaan episode of To Tell the Truth lists my buddy Dick DeBartolo in the credits. Dick worked on a lot of Goodson-Todman game shows when he wasn't being one of the best and most prolific writers for MAD magazine. I have dispatched an e-mail to Dick asking — no, demanding to know if he recalls any fallout from that episode.

And I'd also like to know if this kind of thing happened on any other game show Dick worked on and if so, what did they do about it? I'm guessing they did nothing, which would not have been the fault of someone on the staff like Dick. The producers wouldn't want to get into a lawsuit — even one they were sure they could win — over something that would be so quickly forgotten. I will let you know what Dick says…assuming he has the courage to respond.

Here we have an episode of the game show To Tell the Truth that originally ran on October 23, 1973. They play two games in this half-hour and in each, three people all claim to be the same person and are quizzed by the panel. The real person with that name is supposed to answer honestly (hence the name of the show) and the two impostors, if they don't know the real answers, are allowed to lie.

And what's interesting to me about this episode is that I don't think anyone was telling the truth.

The first game is built around a man named L. Fletcher Prouty, who served as Chief of Special Operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the term of President John F. Kennedy. Colonel Prouty's name is well known to folks who've studied the assassination of President Kennedy. Prouty was one of the major sources of conspiracy theories about that murder. In the Oliver Stone movie J.F.K., there was a mysterious informant character called "Mr. X" who was based to a great extent on Prouty.

Vince Bugliosi, in his book Reclaiming History: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy, lists many of Prouty's wilder and debunked claims and describes him as…

…a right-wing zany who was a member of the Liberty Lobby, the…group that supported neo-Nazi David Duke's 1988 candidacy for president and embraces the notion that the Holocaust is really a Jewish hoax. He also served as a consultant to Lyndon LaRouche's right-wing National Democratic Policy Committee at a conference of which he provided a presentation comparing the U.S. Government's prosecution of LaRouche (for conspiracy and mail fraud) to the prosecution of Socrates.

So that's the first guest supposedly telling the truth. Nineteen minutes into the show, we come to the second subject…Mayo Kaan. Mr. Kaan was a one-time body builder who popped up in the early seventies claiming that he was the model for Superman. And he did have a photo of himself from earlier decades posing in a makeshift Superman costume.

But I personally heard both Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster say they'd never heard of him and had never been where Kaan claimed they discovered and hired him. This appearance on To Tell the Truth was part of Mr. Kaan's personal publicity campaign. He died in 2002 but many years before, he seems to have stopped promoting himself as The First Superman because so many reporters were poking holes in his claims.

In this segment, he claims he went to Hollywood and starred in one of the first Superman movies for Warner Brothers. If you know anything about the Man of Steel, you know that Warner Brothers didn't make a Superman movie until 1978 and it starred Christopher Reeve. The first screen appearance of Superman played by a real person, as opposed to a cartoon, was a serial made in 1948 by Columbia Pictures where he was played by Kirk Alyn. Some of the other claims Mr. Kaan made here and elsewhere didn't seem to match reality either.

Fans and collectors have offered various theories on what part of Kaan's story might be true. That photo of him in the homemade Superman suit — which is shown after they reveal which of the three men is the real Mayo Kaan — is just about all the evidence he had. It could have been as simple as him dressing up that way for publicity or maybe to submit himself to DC Comics to play Superman. It has also been theorized that he was hired to play Superman for some personal appearances, as were others. Me, I think it's enough that Siegel and Shuster (who are never mentioned in this segment) said they never heard of him.

Also in the show, you'll hear panelist Gene Rayburn insist that in the Superman movie or TV show, the Daily Planet building was actually a shot of some building in Providence, RI. Also not true. I believe the building in the Kirk Alyn serial was one then located at Wilshire and La Brea here in Los Angeles. And in the George Reeves TV series, they used the Los Angeles City Hall.

So here's the factually-challenged episode of To Tell the Truth. Let me know if you hear anyone get anything right…