McDougal's Rucksack

McDougal's a big fan of old school science fiction (Original Star Trek, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, Logan's Run, etc.). The big guy doesn't talk about his passion for photon beams and robots though. For some reason, I think he's a bit embarrassed about the whole thing.

Of course, he'd kill me for saying so, but I actually met McDougal at a Star Trek convention in Reno back in 1974. I was working the trading cars and action figures booth, and McDougal was on a three-day PCP jag that had started in Galveston, Texas, following the nullification of his second marriage to Rosemary Clooney. George was young then, maybe six or seven, and I don't think old McDougal had official custody of the boy, but he was traveling with him nonetheless.

The boy looked scared and hungry -- all crammed in McDougal's rucksack like that. You could just see his eyes peering out between a 6-foot Klingon flag and a bloodied garden hoe. If not for those scared little eyes, I'd have never approached McDougal. But as it was, I was prompted to leave my booth, and offer the eyes the rest of my funnel cake.

You know McDougal doesn't like anyone walking up behind him -- especially not three days into a PCP freakout. But I had no way of knowing about McDougal or his state of mind when I approached him.

I led with the funnel cake, arms outstretched in what McDougal must have interpreted as a furtive and combative gesture. Before I got within three feet of him, he'd spun around and unsheathed the hoe with one hand and the Klingon flag with the other. He bashed the side of my skull with the business end of the hoe then lopped my head off with a boot knife and impaled it on the end of his Klingon flagpole.

Then he said, in perfect Klingon, "No one attacks me with impunity." (Nemo me impune lacessit.)

This action was received by great applause from the 600 or so convention goers, and I must admit that even I was impressed.

I was going to clap as well, but was in a bit of an awkward situation, having just been decapitated by the great man.

When the applause died down, McDougal had a chance to survey the situation and he realized I wasn't actually ever a threat to him. He was quite apologetic, and I kind of felt a little guilty. I could tell he felt bad, and maybe a little embarrassed.

"Don't sweat it at all, old boy," I said (trying to play it cool as the other side of the pillow. "Let's just have me off of here and back on my shoulders where I belong."

As McDougal pulled my severed head from atop the Klingon flag and clumsily re-attached it to my torso (picture Chewbacca attempting to reassemble C-3PO in Empire Strikes Back), I had to ask -

"Who's the wee lad in the rucksack?"

McDougal was taken aback. He'd apparently forgotten George Clooney was in there. Of course, this wasn't a big deal because he hadn't even been on Facts of Life yet and nobody knew who he was -- just some toe-headed kid in a rucksack as far as we knew.

"Oh him," he sighed. "That's Rosemary's baby."

Of course, Rosemary was actually George's aunt, but we didn't know any better. We were pretty damn impressed.

Here was a man who spoke perfect Klingon (which we later learned was actually Gaelic) and had the spawn of Satan in a rucksack at a Star Trek convention.

I knew we were in for a lifetime of good times.

Sure, I still get these blinding headaches, but man ... I've never been to a more exciting convention.