Please don't knock Davy Crockett. Because of the popularity of the show, I had one moment of limelight in an otherwise bleak childhood.

It was hard and embarrassing as a child living in a conformity driven, suburban 50's neighbourhood with a father who raised cougar hounds, constantly raised the ire of the "Cats Protection League", the back of a garage wall covered with stretched dead animal skins and a kitchen venetian blind with bullet holes through it.

When Davy Crockett showed up, my little brother and I became the most popular kids on the block. Not only did we have "real coonskin caps" we supplied the rest of the neighbourhood with real coon tails for their caps too.