My father had to be one of the last of the Cavaliers, or gentlemen-soldiers. Not that he ever glorified war, far from it. He was a quiet, well-educated man, with a warm sense of humor whose connections to the world were sentient. But war had been a major part of his life.

At age 17, with saber drawn, he led a calvary charge to break up a civil revolt as an officer in the Czech calvary. He'd do a short stint in the French Foreign Legion before somehow getting out, then travel to England where he attended Cambridge University. When the war broke out in 1939 he upped with the British Commandos, rising to the rank of lieutenant. Fighting alongside the British against the Nazis, he lost his leg in the Ruhr Valley in 1945. After the war he returned to his homeland, but there was nothing there: his father fighting with partisans, was killed in 1944. His mother was shot by Nazis in a reprisal action in 1945. When the communists took over, my father, a Czech army colonel, escaped to America.

My memories of my father are few. I remember a massive man, firmly in command, who traveled abroad much of the time, spoke several languages, and who wore suits cut in antique style that made him resemble an extra from a
Frank Capra move of the 40s. His favorite American expression he'd repeat in his eastern European accent was, "I need that like a hole in the head."

He passed away when I was only ten years old and to this day I grieve about the lost opportunity between ourselves. He could make any day a treasure hunt. Every cloud had a face, every rock or tree a personality. A joke was always worth telling. Every minute was unique and passed too quickly. More than anything he wanted, I think, to impart a knowledge to his family that we were lucky to be alive.

He never spoke of the war. All that was past and the new world was waiting to be constructed. The 1950s were a period of what was called "normalization" in America. Men and women put behind them that extraordinary time they had lived through and tried to craft the perfect life for their children, free of depressions and world wars and the memories of those things.

Maybe, that's why, upon a friend's dare, that my father became involved in one of the quackiest episodes that comprised his unusual life: appearing on The $64000 Question in 1956.

My father appeared during the CBS show's premier season. Hal March was the Master of Ceremonies, beautiful Barbara Britton was the Revlon Girl (Revlon being the show's major sponsor), and Don Cates ( whose daughter Phoebe would graduate to movie stardom) was the producer.

Dad appeared on the show the same time as Dr. Joyce Brothers. Of all things, she'd win $64,000 by answering questions about boxing. Also on the show was Stanley Skeens, a Danville, West Virginia coal miner who won by quoting passages from the Bible.

To some, having your parent on a game show could be worse than tacky, like hearing about your grandmother pose for Playboy. In the Œ50s, however, the $64,000 Question tended to add a cultural nourishment to network TV. It was unlike today where anyone who reads above the 12-grade level and avoids Geraldo! thinks they've joined the new cultural elite. Any alien observer, like the ones we used to meet on Star Trek would have seen how this game
show put the nation into a coma once a week. Spellbound, Americans made it the highest rated show of its era on prime time.

Drama was heightened, not just by placing the contestant in a soundproof booth, but by making he or she return the following show to try for more money.

There was the time Polly Culbertson, a 59-year-old housewife from Pottstown, Pa, flunked her literature category, then divorced her husband. She was asked to name the authors of five books: The Republic, Erewhon, Looking Backward, Brave New World, and Utopia. Mrs. Culbertson said afterwards that she'd told her husband, a retired Navy sailor, that she wanted to "take my
$8,000 and run," but he'd insisted," You'll do nothing of the sort. that's like leaving a poker game when you're winning." ( By the way the answers are Plato, Samuel Butler, Edward Bellamy, Aldous Huxley and Thomas More.)

My father's category was American history. Father was a readaholic and history was his passion. He knew as much about the Duke of Wellington, who saved Europe, as Napoleon, who conquered it.

It blew a lot of minds. A Czech refugee, he had only been naturalized as a U.S. citizen the previous year. The show played up the image of Dad as war hero, which, of course, he was. He was 39 years old. He earned $252 a month
working as a sales rep for an agricultural company. Although my mom was a "nervous wreck" each show, she admits that he was nonchalant come prime time. He was serious enough to hire a tutor to prep him, but to him, this Americana stuff was kind of amusing. For a guy who'd had enough intrigue for several lifetimes, it was a bit odd to go so public. Nonetheless, he was cool and collected enough to win $32,000, then disciplined and sensible enough to stop.

The final question he correctly answered was to name the 16th through 22nd amendments to the Constitution and to tell the year in which they were made part of the U.S. Constitution and the subjects which each refers.

After a week of debate, my father came back on the November 29th show to tell the country that the tax bite to be taken out of the winnings was too big the risk for him to go on.

Dad spent the money wisely, using it to go into successful business for himself. He'd leave us after only another decade on the planet. The man who had led calvary charges all his life, died at home, in his own bed.

As I grow older I find myself thinking more and more about my dad around Father's Day. He, in all likelihood, wouldn't approve or understand the path I've taken, but I do think he's up there somewhere watching over me, and
everything's all right. The sadness and memories of the wars he held in his heart were replaced in the later years by his family and a good post war life in America. I know because he always liked to say there's no more generous country in the world than America.

As a ten-year old, after hearing the game show tale explained to me at the dinner table, I asked him what was the real reason he stopped.

"I'd been pretty lucky up until then and I could have lost everything," he chuckled." I would have needed that like a hole in the head."