The Virginian-Pilot
                             THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT 
              Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Sunday, May 5, 1996                    TAG: 9605050040
SECTION: LOCAL                    PAGE: B1   EDITION: FINAL 
SOURCE: ELIZABETH SIMPSON
                                             LENGTH: Medium:   71 lines

PHONE CALL PUTS BOUNCE BACK IN STEP

He called me Liz.

Just like he knew me. And for just a moment I was right back on my childhood living room floor gazing up at a black-and-white TV set, listening to the man who was always there.

Thirty years ago, the man on the other end of the phone line had been my friend and teacher, the man who made me laugh, the guy who started every morning off right.

He was the man with the ping-pong balls.

Yep, I had Captain Kangaroo on the horn.

You remember the guy with the Dutch-boy haircut. The man who was always reaching into those enormous coat pockets to pull out another treasure. He seemed sort of grandfatherly even when I watched him as a kid, but Bob Keeshan, a.k.a. Captain Kangaroo, is still alive and well and living in Vermont.

The 68-year-old man is now a real grandfather and writes children's books and a newsletter that tells physicians about the latest kid trends. When a public relations person gave me his home telephone number I felt almost giddy.

I spent the rest of the day stopping everyone I knew: ``I'm going to interview Capt. Kangaroo.''

And always the same response:

``Oh, I loved him! Ask him about the haircut.'' Along with memories that bind generations of children, more than 30 years worth to be exact: Mr. Green Jeans. The grandfather clock. The magic drawing board. Tom TEEEErific. Mister Moose.

One friend can still hear the sound of him cutting construction paper with a pair of scissors.

It was a simpler time then, when kids' shows didn't need bells and whistles, when the Captain could read ``Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel'' and expect every kid to listen to the end.

No karate chops or special effects needed.

And now, all these years later, I was talking to Captain Kangaroo - not kid-to-TV screen but adult-to-adult. It was sort of like when my kids see Big Bird at festivals and get this look on their face like ``Don't come any closer.''

But the sound of his voice put me right at ease, that same soothing yet bouncy tone. I could hardly wait to get off the phone to announce: ``I just interviewed Captain Kangaroo.''

``But what did he say?''

Oh, that.

He says he's disappointed with the violence of children's network shows. ``Unfortunately, it's exploiting children. Everything is hyped, everyone's trying to get kids to buy things.''

But he does appreciate Barney and Big Bird and all the other public-television stars who have taken his place. ``A lot of adults don't like Barney, but it's not for adults, it's for kids.''

And though the world has changed at a dizzying speed, what with working moms, single parents, and TV packed with more whizz-bang than morals, children really haven't changed all that much.

``Children may have more peer pressure, more influence of TV, but they have the same needs, they still need answers to questions like `Who am I?' and `Am I loved?' ''

Those are questions Captain Kangaroo helped answer for thousands of children, many of whom still thank him for being their TV pal.

``It's very warming because it makes me realize we were successful in what we set out to do.''

Did I mention he called me Liz? Just like that. ``Liz.'' by CNB