There was a time when you would have thought Channel 2 in Bangor had an immense payroll, with the on-air talents of Lance Fleazy the Detective, Zog the Robot, Bruce Budworm, Krandel, Aunt Edna, Captain Salty, Mason Mutt, and a few dozen more. Thankfully for the owners, just one paycheck took care of them all: It went to Eddie Driscoll.

Any central-Mainer with access to a TV set from the '50s to the '80s remembers the comic talents of Driscoll. His shows on WLBZ 2, like Dialing for Dollars, My Backyard, The Great Money Movie, Weird, and dozens more, were as much a part of our regional culture as pulp trucks, basketball tourneys, and lobster feeds. And in the '70s, when Bangor's three TV stations were the only U.S. cable signals that reached Atlantic Canada, our neighbors in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia joined the fan club.

For those who never had the privilege of watching Eddie Driscoll on TV, the mystique is hard to explain. On his daily show Dialing for Dollars, for instance, Driscoll would call people out of the phone book and give away paltry cash prizes to anyone who knew the "count" and the "amount."

The magic of the show was clearly not in programming; it was in listening to Driscoll's half of the conversation. Driscoll would carry on zany banter with winners, joke with losers, and keep track of the phone's rings with his signature "one ringy-dingy . . . two ringy-dingies." What could have been a broadcast sleeper was, thanks to Eddie Driscoll, a consistent ratings hog for over a decade.

WCSH-TV personality Bill Green began his broadcast career working as Driscoll's cameraman for Dialing for Dollars and My Backyard, a children's show featuring Driscoll's interactions with a puppet named Mason Mutt. Green is blunt in his praise of Eddie Driscoll: "He is the most brilliant person I ever worked with." Green once witnessed Driscoll "trading one-liners" with legendary comedian Milton Berle at Lakewood Theatre. "Eddie was funnier, by far," Green said in an interview in www.aroundmaine.com. "Here's the 'King of TV' [Milton Berle] and he's getting his butt kicked by Eddie Driscoll." Margo Cobb, retired general manager of WLBZ 2, agrees. "If he  had someone who could have managed him and got him to New York, who knows what would have happened!"

Driscoll's life in broadcasting began after returning from his stint in the Navy. Driscoll was studying art in Boston through the GI bill when he met his future wife, Ruby. "I told him we couldn't get serious until he got a job," Ruby says. "So my uncle got him in at Eastern [Fine Paper]." Once the newlyweds moved to Maine, Driscoll joined the Brewer VFW, where he started doing minstrel shows. Word got around about Driscoll's onstage antics, and he was invited to appear on the Hal Shaw Show on what was then Bangor's only TV station, WABI. Ed Fowler, a longtime colleague at WLBZ, remembers, "Eddie started miming records while on the air, and it got everyone's attention."

Soon afterwards, the newly built Channel 2 had an ad in the paper for an announcer, and in the summer of 1954, owner Murray Carpenter hired Eddie Driscoll. He went on to work at the station for 33 years.

As the second TV station in the market, Channel 2 didn't have access to network programming, so Driscoll took it upon himself to fill in the gaps, creating live shows, doing commercials, even designing the costumes and sets with the help of Roy Dunphy. There was only one thing Driscoll couldn't do: stay serious for very long.

"Eddie was a complete nut," Margo Cobb says. "He became a hit immediately." Cobb, like Driscoll, was at Channel 2 from the day the station opened. "For a guy who was very insecure inside as a person, he had very little restrictions on camera."

It's a good thing, because the station had a lot of airtime to fill. When Cobb and Driscoll started, the station, then WTWO, didn't begin its broadcast day until 4 p.m. But the industry quickly blossomed, and soon Channel 2 had changed its call letters to WLBZ and initiated all-day local  programming. Driscoll came up with the show Coffee Time from 7 to 9 a.m. "He'd read news and interview people, badly," chuckles Cobb. "But he was always entertaining."

The more hours on the air, the more stunts Driscoll would come up with. Driscoll dreamed up children's shows like King Fun, Toby Time, and Tiddly Wink Championship. Ed Fowler recalls how Driscoll "coerced us into being part of the act," building sets and playing characters. Paul Salisbury, veteran photojournalist at Channel 2, was also a frequent Driscoll prop. Once Salisbury got stuck in full makeup while out to dinner "because Eddie forgot to pack the cold cream," Salisbury says. "I sat at that restaurant looking like a girl, while Eddie just laughed, probably getting more ideas for more skits."

Eddie Driscoll was also famous-or infamous-for lacing his skits with special effects. During a sketch where Driscoll was playing his character Chef Edwardo, he rigged a cake with explosives. "He waved his arms, said 'open sesame,' and the whole thing just blew," Salisbury says. "When the camera finally got situated back on the air again, all you could see was frosting everywhere." Recently, Salisbury was up near the ceiling in the TV studio and found some sugary remnants of that grand moment in history.

Driscoll's lightning wit and spontaneity, though admired by thousands, sometimes got him in trouble. "He could have used a censor," Cobb admits. "Eddie could get naughty sometimes."

Bangor native Hal Wheeler remembers the day Driscoll pulled a name for his daily call trying to give away money on Dialing for Dollars. "He drew a name for the next telephone call, which turned out to be 'Percy Pease.' After reading the name on the air, Eddie innocently looked into the camera and said, 'Doesn't everybody?'"

Then there was the New Year's Eve of 1966, when Driscoll walked onto the set, wearing only a diaper. (That appearance, plus the Chef Edwardo cake explosion, can be found on Bangor Metro's website: www.bangormetro.com.)

"People loved Eddie, but the management would cringe be-cause you never knew what he

was going to do or say," Ed Fowler recalls. Management meetings turned out to be Eddie-centered quite often. "There was a lot of talk about how this won't happen again or that won't happen again and about two weeks later, it would happen again. You couldn't hold Eddie down."

Despite management's concern, viewers like Paula Newcomb of Hampden kept tuned in. "I'd have the TV on for the kids while I'd be in the kitchen," reminisces Newcomb, "and I'd get such a chuckle out of the comments Eddie would make that went right over the kids' heads-good thing, too!"

One person who was never shocked or surprised at what she saw or heard on the TV was Driscoll's silent partner and wife, Ruby Driscoll. He bounced a lot of his ideas off of Ruby first. Ruby also sewed all the puppets that helped Driscoll read the weather or introduce a movie. On many evenings, while Eddie sat at the kitchen table sketching out a skit, Ruby would sew one of his trademark plaid jackets and/or a costume for Driscoll's coworkers.

"Eddie was an artist," Ruby says, "so he was always creating. To this day, my older grandchildren reminisce about going to the beach with him. He would always help the children see an animal in rock formations or the clouds in the sky. That's Eddie, always entertaining."

Ruby Driscoll speaks about her husband with a mixture of past and present tense because, while he is still living, Eddie Driscoll has Alzheimer's disease. Though she visits her husband nearly every day, he no longer recognizes her and can no longer speak. "When you see Alzheimer's take away a wonderful mind like Eddie's," she says, "you understand what a terrible disease it is." Ruby volunteers at the Alzheimer's support group at the Barron Center in Portland, where her husband is cared for. "I don't feel sorry for myself," she says. "One of the ways I cope is by being there for others."

When Driscoll retired from WLBZ 2 in 1987 at the age of 62, he had been showing signs of Alzheimer's. But that didn't dampen his retirement celebration: Over 150 guests attended a "roast" for Driscoll at Pilot's Grill, featuring video greetings by Governor McKernan, Sen. Bill Cohen, and author Stephen King.

King, it is said, was a particular fan of the show Weird, which aired "B" horror movies late on Saturday nights. The show was hosted by a mad scientist/caveman hybrid named Krandel, played, of course, by Driscoll. In King's video message at Driscoll's retirement party, the author claimed Eddie Driscoll had "warped his childhood"-an event millions of King fans undoubtedly appreciate.

Last year, when WLBZ 2 held its 50th anniversary open house, Eddie Driscoll, 13 years after retirement, was still the number one topic of conversation.

Eddie Driscoll turned 80 in June, and though his Alzheimer's doesn't allow him to remember the fun times he had and the fun times he created for viewers, thousands of us from Rockland to Moncton will never forget the skits, shtick, antics, and pure joy that took over the airwaves.

For us, the most ingenious game shows still don't compare with Dialing for Dollars, and public service announcements have never been the same without Eddie Driscoll there to "Put 'em on foh yah."

SIDEBAR: Why Canada Loved Eddie

Once upon a time (1970-1990) Bangor TV had a significant international impact. In fact, for millions of Atlantic Canadians, Bangor, not Hollywood, was the capital of TV land. That's because we were the only U.S. shows in town.

When cable first came to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia in the 1970s, only five English-speaking stations were offered; three of them came from a distant U.S. city called Bangor, Maine.

Bangor TV's influence in Canada went beyond creating fans for Eddie Driscoll, Dick Stacy, Curly O'Brien, Bud Leavitt, and the rest of Bangor's TV glitterati: It also created a lucrative new market for regional advertisers.

In a March 2001 article about '70s TV, the Halifax Daily News recalls how "pilgrimages south across the bumpy Airline Route from Calais (pronounced 'callous'), Maine, to Bangor became common when the TV audience was saturated with U.S. commercials." One man remembered that "bus tours embarked for monster bingo games, and it seemed everyone went there on shopping excursions."

Sadly, the cross-country TV tie was severed in 1990 when Atlantic Canada cable companies dropped Bangor cable for feeds from Detroit. While Canadian shoppers continue to be an important part of our regional economy, there have never been quite as many trips south as the days when our Canadian neighbors watched shows like Stacy's Country Jamboree and My Backyard along with us.

Perhaps it's time to revive the Bangor/Atlantic Canada cable connection. It could be the best idea in Maine/Atlantic Canada relations since . . . since Eddie Driscoll.

Editor’s update: Eddie Driscoll passed away in September of 2006; the outpouring from fans was tremendous.