The Captain in Action

Celebrating a Birthday.

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The Man Behind The Telegram:

The Captain Unmasked

THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND

Reporting, Photos and Video By Garen Cansler, Chris Goldman, Jed Johnson, William Troutman

(Columbia, S.C., May 22, 2003) – Columbia’s superhero dons his signature cape, chauffeur’s cap and dark glasses and races into a local restaurant. He received an urgent call: someone needs his services.

As he makes his way through the busy establishment, weaving through tables, people turn to stare and whisper: Look, it’s Captain Telegram! Captain Telgram is here!

He quickly locates his target: a woman celebrating her 30th birthday. The situation looks grim. The party, in full bloom an hour ago, has begun to wilt like the helium balloons surrounding the table.

Captain Telegram goes to work. He reads an announcement of the woman’s birthday, using details secreted to him by his agent on the inside. The Captain points out her unique toenail polish, delighting the circle of friends around her. Then he leads her on a birthday march around the bar and back, blowing his kazoo in rhythym to their steps. He sings, he gives her gifts, they have their picture taken with his toy monkey, and then the Captain is off with a flourish of his cape.

He jumps into the Captain mobile (a dusty 1990 Mercedes with balloons crowded into the back seat and a cardboard cut-out of President Bush smiling out the rear window) and zooms off to his next rendezvous. Once again, Captain Telegram has saved the day.

Captain Telegram has all the expected attributes of the traditional superhero. First, there’s his secret identity. By day, he is an entrepreneur, a tinker, a hot air balloon pilot, a disc golf competitor and a traffic announcer on a local radio station. His Clark Kent-like real name is known to only a few select people.

He also has the requisite secret headquarters. Located behind an unassuming shop on Elmwood, the front looks like a normal office (although the gorilla suit in the corner gives a hint of his identity). Through the back door a whole world opens up: the Captain’s Cave, a huge warehouse full of his implements of the trade. Inside are two wicker hot air balloon gondolas, a pool table, his experimental bike taxis, old signs and costumes.

The Captain even flies to his destination; well, sort of. "I've been flown in planes a couple of times," he says, "and picked up at a dock at the marina and taken to an island to deliver a telegram." He's also "climbed over roofs and jumped off balconies" to deliver his signature service.

And although the Captain doesn’t change into his costume in a telephone booth, he did once shave while driving down the highway at 80 miles per hour when he was late for an appointment.

The singing telegram business has seen its ups and downs (see The History of Singing Telegrams sidebar) and many other companies have come and gone, but the Captain prospers. One reason he continues to do so is because he has name recognition. The Captain noticed early on that people would say, "Hey! There’s that singing telegram guy!" They clearly wanted to call him something, so he gave them something they would remember.

"Most of the singing telegram services, because they didn't develop a character, are struggling, and most of them offer strippers and stuff like that. So guys that go out and do what I do are very rare," the Captain says.

In addition, he has valuable free advertising through his gig as a traffic reporter on the Oldies FM 103 radio station and News 19 television (you can catch him every morning at 7:25 and 7:55).

Another reason the Captain has been so successful is because he has diversified. He offers hot air balloon rides, limousine services, a belly dancer, flower and chocolate delivery, and is even about to expand into bike taxi history tours.

But the main reason for his success may be because he is an astute judge of human nature. His most awesome super power is his ability to accurately read a situation. "If I think there's going to be a problem, I become real delicate." This is important since he never knows what kind of situation he's getting in to. "After 30,000 telegrams," he muses, "It's all happened."

For instance, he has been called "by people who were stalking people, like a married guy who was trying to get next to a good-looking girl in his office," he says. Another time, a man sent his wife a dozen roses and Captain Telegram delivered his singing message. He told the woman that her husband loved her very much, and the woman ran out of the room crying.

Like any good superhero, he has developed a sixth sense to keep him out of awkward situations. "I certainly don't want to hurt anybody's feelings," he says. "There's no need for that. I try to be cautious."

After 25 years of fighting against dull, traditional deliveries, Captain Telegram says the best reward is the look of satisfaction on people's faces. "With a smile on their face, they'll say, 'that's the best money I've ever spent,'" he says.

THE HISTORY OF SINGING TELEGRAMS

1933 – George P. Oslin, a Western Union executive, creates the singing telegram. He commissioned the first singing telegram on July 28, which was sung by a Western Union operator named Lucille Lipps to the star vocalist Rudy Vallee on his birthday.

Oslin was the public relations director of Western Union, then based in New York. At that time, telegrams had come to convey mixed associations. During World War I, receiving a telegram often meant the death of a loved one. The recent stock market crash had also led to a dark mood throughout the nation. Oslin wanted to bring the fun back to telegrams, and although the company was first afraid it would become a laughingstock, it finally agreed to give Oslin’s idea a try.

Oslin noted that the singing telegram "started America on a zany musical binge" and the company "made millions" in the years that followed, with messages being sung to popular tunes. The singing telegram business immediately took off and thrived until

1960s – the popularity of the telegraph begins to wane with the widespread installation of telephones.

1970s – Western Union was forced to close many of its telegraph offices.

1974 – Declining demand for singing telegrams and the reduction in the number of telegraph offices lead Western Union to discontinue its singing telegram services. Small private services soon emerge and keep the singing telegram business afloat.

1975 – A new company opens: The Western Onion Telegraph Company. Their name playfully recalls the originator of the singing telegram.

1980 – Western Union returns to the singing telegram business, but now operators will only sing the telegrams over the telephone, to one tune – "Happy Birthday."

1980 – Western Union files suit against Western Onion for trademark infringement. Western Onion wins the battle. Western Union says Western Onion is making fun of them by using a parody of their name. Intimidated at first, Western Onion and its owner, Bob Jasper, agreed to change the name. Western Union, initially demanding dollar damages of triple the profits of Western Onion, refused to drop the suit. Feeling betrayed by this move, Jasper changed the name back to Western Onion, and the battle was on.

1982 – During "The Great San Francisco Singing Telegram Depression," Western Onion goes broke. The company was later re-formed by different owners.

1983 – The musical group "The Bobs" are formed when two members close the Western Onion Telegraph Company and place a classified ad. Their self-named debut recording featuring "Helter Skelter" is nominated for a Grammy for best vocal arrangement in 1992.