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I'm Am Joe's... Joe.
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Joe "Frenchy" Dundon (left) congratulating BOCer Chris Fergus circa 1968 for successfuly doing something shady as Dave Williams wishes Joe would for God's sake lose the mustache.
by Joe Dundon

I was born in Boston, October 13, 1943, at Chelsea Naval Hospital during a WW II black-out of the coast.  Some have remarked that the black-out has significance, but I ignore the implication.  My father worked for the U.S. Postal Service for 44 years and my mother was a Special-Ed teacher.  An all-Irish middle-class family in a mostly Irish Boston (Dorchester) neighborhood.  
I attended Boston Latin School from grades 7-12, America's oldest public school (founded in 1635 -- Harvard was founded in 1636 to take Latin's graduates), of which I am duly proud.

I had decided to study pre-Med, and with my Irish heritage one might guess that Notre Dame was my first choice.  It became such, but only after Harvard and Johns Hopkins pre-Med schools had put me on their waiting lists.  So off to South Bend I went.

I loved Notre Dame, but discovered slowly that the advanced sciences of the pre-Med program had diminishing love for me.  In my junior year, faced with the probability of admission to Dental rather than Medical School, I decided that English and Communications were a more suitable destiny.  In September of 1965, Tom Hamilton, V.P. and Gen. Mgr. of the WNDU Stations, was a guest speaker in one of my communications classes.  In Boston, I had known Jess Cain, a popular morning radio personality who had spent 3 or 4 years at WNDU Radio and TV before heading East.  (Jess was the original Sheriff Culpepper, among other duties.)  So I intercepted Tom after the class and, walking across campus, had a grand ol' conversation about Jess, Tom's background (N.Y.C., Yale and C.B.S.), myself and the WNDU stations. At that time they needed another part-time mailboy or two, and Tom offered me a job as we parted. And at $.95 an hour (minimum wage) it was pizza money, so why not?

Joe Dundon and his lovely bride Viki wondering what in the hell she has gotten herself into, circa 1970.
If I may tell a story, this was not my first experience in "broadcasting", so to speak. I had always been fascinated by Radio/TV as a hobby, and had DXed hundreds of radio stations as a teenager, staying up to all hours to log their frequencies and IDs.  I would have loved to have become a ham radio operator, and talked to the world as others on my short-wave radio could do, but the cost of equipment was prohibitive.  In looking through catalogs, though, a good friend and I discovered a $10 phono oscillator at Radio Shack.  This was an interesting gadget.
It allowed folks who did not own a portable stereo to play their albums on their large, living-room-furniture stereo consoles and hear the music in their backyard at a party or cookout. One plugged the output of the stereo console into the phono oscillator, adjusted a screw to avoid the frequency of any local radio station, and broadcast the music up to 100 feet to a portable radio in the backyard tuned to that frequency. !  Friend Ed Forry and I saw greater potential.  What our neighborhood needed was a radio station!  Ed's older brother had a reel-to-reel tape recorder, I brought my portable stereo, we bought a cheap mike and mixer, and we broadcast from Ed's basement.  The signal was weak at first, but by adding more antenna wire and stringing it up to Ed's attic we covered the neighborhood, perhaps 4 houses in each direction. We were on-the-air erratically from morning to suppertime, depending on other events in our lives and Mrs. Forry's good humor.  We reported news and weather (the morning Boston Globe), helped to find lost kids, bikes or footballs, did neighborhood interviews, reviewed very local goings-on, but mostly played all varieties of music from our respective album collections. We were WERA Radio, the voice of Vera Street.  And the neighbors really did listen once in a while.  
We had the greatest time for about 3 weeks. Then Ed had an idea to make the signal clearer.  He attached the antenna wire to a water pipe in our basement studio.  He was right -- great signal.  The entire plumbing system was now a transmitter!  Some days later, leaving with my parents for Sunday dinner at my grandparents home about 7 miles away, I tuned the car radio to hear Ed. What a surprise when the signal didn't fade a bit as we left Vera Street.  In fact, we heard it clearly up and over Milton Hill, all the way to to Grandma's home.  Uh oh.  I think the F.C.C. fine was about $10,000 for such illegal broadcasts.  We immediately cut the signal, and soon shut down the operation.  But we both had great fun while it lasted.  

Tim Darden and Joe Dundon, wearing a belt he swears he never owned in his life, in an obviously staged picture meant to convince you that teenagers made award winning TV in 1974.
And the Boston Globe ran a feature article about us a few weeks later in their "Neighborhood News" section.  Someone told them about it.  We never did hear from the F.C.C.

So back to being a mailboy at WNDU-TV.  I soon got to know nearly everyone, and some of the younger crowd, including Dave, would stop in to occasional festivities at the Campeau Street Party House, an abode I shared with two Law School friends.  At that point, I had no idea what the future would hold for me.  I think my options were going back to Boston to find a job, or applying to the Peace Corps.  In early May of that year ('66), the Advertising Copywriter at the station was fired for some error of judgment, and the position was advertised.  Well, why not?  Just for a while, of course. I interviewed with Dave O'Shea, the Television Sales Manager, brought writing samples and was hired.  I started the Monday following Commencement.  I enjoyed copywriting for 2 or 3 years, especially sharing the office with Dave Williams, then became Dave O'Shea's Sales Assistant.  I co-ordinated national sales, and oversaw the content and placement! of all station breaks, ensuring that all spots bought on WNDU-TV ran as scheduled.  In late 1972, one of the senior local salespeople retired.  I applied, got the job, and became a TV Sales Account Executive from January of '73 until I retired in November of '99.  I was neither WNDU's best salesperson nor their worst.  But I was happy, and I guess they were too.

Joe Dundon cooks the books in 1976.
In mid 1968, while still a copywriter, I was called down to Tom Hamilton's office.  I believe Dave was also in there with Tom.  John Weiler, who had been the Sales Advisor to WNDU's Junior Achievement Company for several years, was also deeply involved in Clay Junior Baseball, and had chosen the baseball when both activities became too much.  Sure, I'll do it.  Dave was a friend, and I loved the show.  I was 24, working in television, and now having a hoot with BOC!

But the Sales Advisor had serious responsibilities, I found, aside from the fun of 'making television'.  And I discovered that most high school students would rather be grounded than go to a sales appointment.  
Those who had time and tried found that it wasn't the nightmare they had feared.  I made changes my second year to increase income.  Previously, three station breaks were scheduled in the program, each with 2 :60 spots.  That was it.  But the popular commercial length had been changing to :30s, and many clients did not have :60s to run.  So we changed to all :30s, charged 75% of the previous :60 rate, threw in :10s if needed, and nearly doubled the previous year's sales.  We also began to commission ad agencies, a standard practice, but not done before in Junior Achievement.  Our agency business also nearly doubled.  Keeping the books, though, was my Waterloo.  Oh, they were always correct to the penny, but I had no training in account! ing other than balancing my checkbook.  Trying to keep the complicated BOC accounting system current and accurate (see "Cooking the Books" in the reunion publication) was a recurring exercise of procrastinantion and recovery.  I really had the same feelings as the students -- the creative was where the fun was.  I think I would have much preferred to contribute to writers' meetings, but alas.
One summer evening in August of '77 Denny called me.  He was weeping.  Dave had died following his surgery in Ann Arbor, an operation we had been assured would be serious, but not life-threatening.  I thought I had been shot. There was terrible pain.  I had lost relatives before, but no one my age.  And no one so close to me.  We all made it through those terrible days, mostly with plastic faces and trite conversation and an awful feeling inside.  I have never forgotten Dave Simkins and Ellen Akins, delivering a tribute to Dave at the funeral home that they had written.  They were so brave to do that.  I recently wrote and spoke a eulogy for my mother at her funeral Mass, and that was difficult.  I never could have done it for Dave.  That was the worst time of my life.

Left to right, Scott Wayne, Bob Medich, Dave Williams, and Denny Laughlin a few days before Dave's scheduled surgery in August of 1977.
But we moved on, and so did BOC.  I seriously questioned whether we should or could continue. We eventually agreed that Dave would have been disappointed if we let BOC die with him.  So we went on, with Denny and I returning, assisted by Danny Lakin and Bob Medich, BOC alumni.  What few remember, I think, is that I had actually resigned as Sales Advisor the previous May, at our year-end celebration.  It was very emotional, because I had been dedicated not just to the fun I was having, but also to the greater good that I could feel was emanating from our efforts.  But I had given 9 years, our daughter was 4 and had rarely seen me before 2PM on most Saturdays, and it just seemed time for a change.  But when Denny asked me to continue after Dave's death, there was no hesitation in my answer.

Speaking of my daughter, since this is a bio (slowly becoming an epic), Victoria Jean Sexton (Viki), my best pal, and I were married on August 16, 1969.  She is from South Bend, a Purdue grad and has been a Systems Analyst for Bosch, nee Allied-Signal, nee Bendix for 102 years now.  Our first daughter, Therese Elizabeth (Terri) was born April 27, 1973, graduated from Notre Dame in 1995 with an AB in French and an Elementary Teaching Certification from St. Mary's.  She is in her eighth year teaching elementary grades in the Penn-Harris-Madison school system near South Bend.  She married John Mellor, also a Notre Dame graduate, on December 2, 1995.  John is an architect with a local firm, and they have two children: Paul Joseph, 3, and Elizabeth Kathleen, 1 & 1/2.  Our second daughter, Kathleen Denise, born on January 31, 1980, will graduate next week (Dec. '02) with a BS in Visual Communications from the University of Evansville, where she also minored (unofficially) ! in Music, playing French Horn for every band, orchestra or ensemble she could fit in.  We are proud of and grateful for all of them.
Back at WNDU there were some at the station who resented the existence of the whole project. And outwardly in many cases. They were a minority, but there were often overt outbursts that "those damn high schools kids think they own the place". And there was also some 'professional' jealousy at work there, especially after our national recognition. The situation was exacerbated when our Saturday clean-up was less than sparkling. Dave, Denny and I dealt repeatedly with those complaints, be they props that were not returned to the proper desk, a make-up mess in the bathrooms, or real damage to WNDU or employee property.

In 1981, Joe Dundon, center, surrounded by some soon to be famous Hollywood writers, producers, and directors. That's no joke.
This was a continuing problem throughout the 14 years of using the studio, despite everyone's best efforts to avoid it.  I think it was worse after Dave died, because he seemed to be able to mend fences in his own way more easily.  It also got worse as Tom Hamilton, our management guardian angel, a! pproached retirement.  His aura often shielded us.  But more at WNDU liked the program than didn't, and while the attitude of some peers was disappointing, we accepted that we were never going to change their minds.

I did finally retire from BOC after the '81 season, four years later than scheduled.  I was more proud of those four years, if that's possible, than the previous nine.  Because we kept the fire burning.  You asked me to speak to why I stayed with BOC for thirteen years.  At the University Club, at my retirement party in November of '99, I spoke words of thanks.  I still have my notes, and I don't think I could say it better than I did then.  The 'all of you' reference then pertained to the folks I had invited to the gathering that evening, and it also applies so fittingly to all BOCers.  I was recalling 'thoughts' of my WNDU years, and the last one was:
"And of course my own happy memories of "Beyond Our Control", with Denny, Dave Williams, Bill and Mark.  Besides being a wondeful project for young people, BOC earned for WNDU-TV a first-place award from N.A.T.P.E., a Gabriel Award from UNDA-USA, and a Gold Hugo from the Chicago International Film Festival.  I've thought that if ever there was a way to have given back to WNDU what I've received over these years, being a Junior Achievement advisor to BOC from 1968 to 1981 would probably be it.  I am so proud to have been associated with that project, and with all those talented young people. And I still miss Dave Williams.

"The theologian Joseph Campbell encouraged us all to 'follow our bliss'.  With help from all of you, I've been somewhat successful in that pursuit.  So thank you, each one of my family and friends, for being here tonight, and for being part of that bliss. Whether you wanted to be or not.

"Paraphrasing a fellow Bostonian, my wife and I . . . now prepare . . . for a new journey . . . and a new grand-child.  Thank you so much."


Another grand-child later, those words resound.  And so it goes.

Joe.