10
Daily Ncbraskan
Monday, January 17, 1933
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In tight agates
Bv Pat Clark
Robert Nielsen, don of the influential
television-viewing Nielsen family, merely
was slipping out of his three-bedroom,
split-level suburban Americana house to
get the mail when it happened; the glint
of knife, the rustle of blanket, and he
knew not what happened next. He thinks
he was knocked out, but may have merely
fainted.
"Where am I?" he said, the words
sloshing out of his groggy head. The
sound of his own voice started to bring'
him back to liis senses. "Never mind
where I am," he said slowly, "is llill
Street Blues' on yet?"
A youngman's face appeared in front
of his " 'Hill Street Blues?' Maybe you
think Captain Funllo has an APB out
for you. Is that it?"
Nielsen looked at the tauntine visace
Television
that hung over him. A Mohawk haircut
defined a line halving his head. One could
extend the line down mentally to also
divide the eyes and the glazed, bloodshot
stare of the veteran televisioil addict that
fell blankly from them. Interesting that
he should have acquired the eyes of a clas
sic nonstop viewer so young. Nielsen
thought. Silver antennae in the form of a
"V" were tied to the back of the young
man's head by a length of black coaxial
cable. Clearly Nielsen was in the hands of
one of the growing gangs of television
punks to which the country had turned so
strongly. "Vidiots," the local news broad
caster had called them in a scorching edi
torial last week.
"What do you want with me?" Niel
sen said.
"You'll get the answer to that in due
time," said the young man, whom other
members of the gang addressed only as
Antenna. "In the meantime, it is enough
that we have you. You are enough to
advance the cause. Your name will make
the Video Nostra the most feared guerrilla
television organization in the world."
"Guerrilla television?" said Nielsen,
asking the obvious.
"Yes," Antenna sneered. "You were
expecting perhaps that we were just anot
her gang of TV punks, I suppose." He
spit nn Nielsen's shirt. "I spit on them,"
he said. "We are terrorists, as surely as the
Red Brigades or the BaaderMienhoff gang."
"Who are they?" Nielsen said. "I'm
afraid I don't see a lot of news. I have
Julie in charge of that."
"Never mind," Antenna said. "F should
have figured as much. It's not important.
American u V
What is important is that television is the
last untapped battleground for the revolu
tion, and we are going to tap it. And you
are just the man w e need."
"Revolution?" said Nielsen, never one
for the deep question.
"Yes. cotton-minded one, revolution,"
said Antenna with a face tli3t bespoke a
self-conscious and withering patience. "A
revolution against everything that is hack
neyed and stale in America. And nothing,
NOTHING I tell you, is more hackneyed
and stale than American television. Sit
coms full of mother-in-law jokes beget
spin-offs that retell the mother-in-law
jokes. Cops with day-glo teeth burst
scratchless through plate glass windows to
nab every conceivable menace to society.
"Well, welcome to the world, Mr.
Nielsen," Antenna continued. "Matt Hous
ton is not going to come here and save
you. But you can save yourself, and what
remains of the mind of America, by
working with us." Antenna chuckled to
himself. "Of course, you have no choice."
"Will I be able to watch television?"
he said, a little more panic than he had
wanted slipping into his voice.
"Until your eyes bleed," Antenna
said. "Not only can you watch television,
but you must. You would be no good to
us if you didn't. We want you to watch
all the television you can stand. It's what
you say about the shows you watch that
matters. You are the most powerful tele
vision mogul in America; networks bow to
you, advertisers funnel millions of dollars
into time slots on shows that you bless.
That kind of power cannot be allowed to
grow untended if the revolution is to suc
ceed." "What am I to say about the shows?"
Nielsen asked, confused.
"You'll discover that soon enough,"
Antenna sneered. "In the meantime, you
have some viewing to do. It's almost prime
time. The network officials will already
be wondering where you are. Well, you
are right here, leading America out of the
video wilderness. Come with me to the
viewing room," Antenna said.
Antenna turned and shouted into the
next room, and a young cohort dressed
in similar garb, sans antennae, appeared.
"Prepare a place in the viewing room,"
Antenna said. "We have a guest; a very
honored guest. And he should be fed. In
struct Static to pop a TV dinner into the
oven for our guest. Nothing but the fin
est; Swanson Hungry Man Salisbury
steak."
"That's my favorite," Nielsen said
suddenly.
Next Week: Nielsen sympathizes with
his captors.
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Staff photo by Jane Knapp
The Greenwich Cafe, seen here at night from the corner of 19th and 0 streets,
offers Lincoln diners a distinctive fish and chips dinner.
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btatf photo by Craig Andresen
Brian Hull, half-owner of the patent on blinking lights hats seen around town,
models the Herbie Husker version of the cap.
Mom evecyoone gets cCnaouce
to see ihelv mme in IfeCuus
By Ward W. Triplctt III
It's the same Herbie Husker who graces
the baseball cap worn by thousands of
Nebraska f3ns to every Husker football
game. Only this Herbie has two blinking
red lights where his eyes should be and
he's surrounded by four more blinking
lights.
" "We're going to put a switch on it
soon," said Brian Hull, closing up the
mini-golf section of the dow ntow n Sluggo's
where he works. "That way, you'll be
able to turn it on and off whenever you
like and not have to disconnect the whole
thing."
Hull, 21, owns half the patent on the
Herbie hats with blinking lights. Since
starting a basically mail-order business
in late November, Hull said Allen's Custom
Eectronics, based in Texas, has sold about
800 of the hats.
"I can't sleep at night," Hull said. "My
friend and I think they're the hottest
thing since the hula-hoop."
The electric hat idea sprang from a
conversation between Hull and Willie
Allen last year.
"He had seen an ad in Rolling Stone
that said, 'Jog at Night.' It had a visor
of sorts with a beacon on it," Hull said.
"We went up to Omaha once, and lo
and behold, a guy was there selling a
visor that had a white 4N' in lights on
it."
While Allen sold a few hats with two
lights in them late last year, Hull checked
around to see if anyone had a patent on
the lights-in-the-hat business. Finding none,
Allen's Custom Electronics was born.
The success, says Hull, still has him
shaking. A former business major at UNL,
Hull stayed out of school this semester
to work and sell the hats instead.
"Currently, you can only get a hat
through the mail here (2530 N St.),"
Hull said. "We're still getting financial
backing from around Lincoln, but in a
few months, they should be on sale at
most of the bars."
The hats can hold between six to 36
lights, which operate on a 9-volt battery
sewn into the hat's crown. The h3ts and
the lights are available in almost any
color, Hull said. The Herbie hat sells for
S14.95.
"We do a lot of special order," Hull
said, pointing out that each additional
six lights costs 52 more. Names of favorite
rock bands, couples and teams are the most
popular. A Dallas Cowboy star hat sold
for S30 last week, he said.
Hull said the cost of the hats is due
largely to the shipping costs from Texas,
where the hats are hand-made by a staff
of eight people. Allen lives in Texas and
handles sales in that area, Hull said.
Around Lincoln, he said, the hats have
slowly been gaining attention.
"1 wear mine all the time I'm down
here, and 50 percent of the people going
into Chesterfields ask about it," Hull
said.
They were also popular at the Orange
Bowl among Nebraska fans, he said.
"Husker Bob Rowe wore one down to
Miami. A cabby offered him $30 for it.
It was beat up and some of the lights
were coming off, but the guy offered him
$30 and more for it several times," Hull
said.
In the future, Hull envisions lighted T
shirts and jogging shorts. But first, hawking
the hats is the top priority. A commercial
featuring Husker Bob is scheduled, and
more advertisements nationwide are hoped
for.
"I know we're not going to quit on
these until we have them in every town
with a major university,"-Hull said. "The
way I see it, who can't afford to have their
name in lights?"
English recipe for fish and chip
sets apart Lincoln's oldest cafe
s
By Eric Peterson
"People tell me 'If you change it, you're
crazy,' " says Mildred Weiler about the
Greenwich Cafe. "We keep it the same
because people like it that way."
Tire Greenwich Cafe, 1917 O St., has
never changed its authentic '30s and '40s
Review
cafe feeling. There are dark pine booths,
red and green linoleum tiles and an old
pressed design ceiling.
The best thing about the place, though,
is the fish. The Greenwich Cafe has spe
cialized in fish and chips since 1973.
Weiler said that a former UNL botany
professor from England, named John
Davidson, gave the cafe his recipe for fish
batter. "This professor said he had a fish
batter and wanted us to try it, so we did,"
she said.
It's been a favorite ever since. The fish
is very distinctive, especially with the
vinegar at each table. A regular fish dinner
is $2, and the jumbo fish and chips dinner
has five pieces of that wonderful fish for
$2.90.
Fried chicken is another specialty at the
Greenwich Cafe. A regular chicken dinner
is $3.
There are also apple, pear, or banana
fritters. Small pieces of the fruit are fried
and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon.
Weiler manages the Greenwich Cafe
for her husband, whose father started the
restaurant in 1934 during the Depression.
"It boomed immediately," she said. "We
were about the only people downtown
who had good food and good beer."
Weiler said the cafe is known as the
oldest one in Lincoln, and owns the city's
first beer license.
