Happy Hare’s Ancient Cupeno Rain Dance, revisited

It was great bringing the first pandas here from China. Stealing the Beatle concert from WHK in Cleveland ranks near the top of top of my adventures. However, there was one outrageous episode that trumps them all; The Ancient Cupeno Indian Rain Dance, chronicled by columnist Don Freeman in the San Diego Union-Tribune, and verified by 400,000 listeners.

In 1960, after a rollicking stint in New York, I returned to San Diego, ready to settle down and do anything, sell shoes to women, even

I jest. Selling shoes to women is far more hazardous than doing a morning show.

Tell a women that she needs a size larger than her fantasies allow, and you risk being lobotomized as you kneel in front of her.

There was no need to change career paths. I had not realized the impact I had made in New York and that I would be courted by WNEW within a year after my return, or that Westinghouse would offer me a plum job at KYW in Cleveland with Specs Howard, resulting in eight of the most rewarding years I have ever experienced.

But I veer. Those doors had not opened yet, and I hunkered down to doing a morning show at KCBQ.

It flashed in my mind that, in my absence, my listeners might have strayed. Don McKinnon, described by many knowledgeable radio savants as a monster morning man was tearing it up at KDEO, a rival that had been nothing when I left for New York.

The first morning I went on the air, McKinnon sent me one of those cards with the big red plastic button implanted in it, reading “Panic Button.” That did it,. He didn’t know that God had left out the fear receptors in my brain when He made me. All McKinnon did was piss me off.

I have often told you about my belief in Divine Intervention.. This journey into the supernatural beats all. I had barely settled into my new/old KCBQ show, when the strangest experience in my life befell me. This was “Twilight Zone” stuff.

In my first week on the job, I received a phone call from the padre at the Cupeno Indian reservation north of San Diego. ”We are broke, Happy Hare, and we need a water well for our people.”

I have no idea where it came from inside of me, but the next Monday morning, I plunged into the story that I had gone to the Cupeno reservation and had a great time, and was about to leave when a mystical looking ancient Indian approached and said softly , “Follow me, Happy Hare.”

I followed him into a nearby woods, where he said to me, “Happy Hare, I have searched for many moons among my people to find the one pure man worthy to inherit the ancient Cupeno rain dance. I did not find that man among my Cupeno brothers, but you are of pure heart and I have chosen you to learn this dance that will bring rain.

So, I followed this shaman through the intricate choreography of the rain dance, and learned the spell binding chant. Then, satisfied that I knew the dance, he abruptly turned and disappeared like a ghostly spirit into the deep shadowed woods.

The next morning, I told my listeners, “I have practiced this ancient Cupeno rain dance and learned the chant until it is as one with my heart. Now, I will do the dance and, ten days from now, rain will fall over this parched county.”

Like the song says, “It never rains in Southern California.” Yet, here I was, setting a specific date when it would rain with such conviction that I believed it myself.

That tenth morning came and, despite a bright sky, I did not waver. Then, in the second hour of the show, I saw the first drops of rain tentatively splat on my large outside studio window, and soon it struck the indow with the roar of a freight train.

Buoyed by this amazing coincidence, I proceeded to perform this seeming miracle ten or twelve times in a row.

Then, in a display of versatility, I proclaimed ,“Our friends in Tijuana have not had rain for a very ;long time. ” I told my Mexican listeners that I would perform my rain dance for them in twelve days.

On the twelfth day, I went through my on-air tom tom ranting chanting rain dance and was flooded with calls from Tijuana that they were being deluged.

I performed my rain dance a total of 18 times that year, and each time it rained as predicted.

Jean Dixon, the psychic, guested on the show, and I asked her to explain my strange gift,. She told me that I had tuned into a rain wave empowering me to predict rain.

Then, I violated the unwritten rule of the supernatural. I told myself, “Harry, This is ridiculous. Nobody can predict rain”.

When I expressed self-doubt, my “gift” disappeared like it had never been I became like everyone else, a simple mortal, not sure of rain or much else. If you acquire a paranormal gift, don’t question it.

In the ensuing years, when driving, I have been accompanied by a parking fairy which will reserve a parking place for me right in front of wherever I choose to go, regardless of the traffic situation. I have not ever questioned my parking fairy.

By the way, my generous listeners contributed many dollars toward digging the well which proved to be a gusher.

I seem to lead a charmed life. Others are blasphemed, beat up, and worse when they make public utterances that might be deemed “racist”.

I have been abandoned in my kidding of ethnic groups, including the most radical of them. They take it as a joke. The most lenient toward me have been the regional Indians.

When acting as Official Starter for a half marathon between several hundred Kumeyay Indians, I hollered at the starting line, “Gentlemen, start your Injuns!.” They all roared, and I had to let them settle down before re-starting them.

On the air, I often told made-up Indian stories.

One evening, an old Kumeyay Indian told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather:

"Which wolf wins?" The old Kumeyay simply replied, "The one you feed."


I especially love the wolf story. There must be Indian blood coursing through my veins from centuries ago, because I resonate to these people….and…. I feed the good wolf.

I tell the Kumeyays that they, not cowboys, are the ones who wrote the first western song: the one that goes, “Kumeyay yi yippee yippee yay. yippee yay. Kumeyay yi yi yippee yippee yay.”

I tell the Indians who dwell in the Cleveland National Forest that several hundred years ago, they and the local missionaries played the first baseball game………between the San Diego Padres and the Cleveland Indians.

An Indian fable, told originally by Will Shake Spear

Centuries ago, a man named Murray got bored with traipsing the desert with Moses and migrated to what is now San Diego. Murray was the first merchant in the region.

The one topographical feature of this trackless land was a large lake which the Digueno Indians had named “ Titicaca.” Murray surveyed the majestic lake, and shook his head.

“Titicaca is no name for a lake..” he told the Digueno chief. “If you will give me the naming rights to this lake, I will name it Lake Murray after me, and deal that silly name “Titicaca” to some friends of mine in a distant land which I will name Peru if I get the right price for naming rights.

The Diguenos had no concept of “Titicaca” as possessing crude English implications. English was not even known then. They agreed to the deal because, come to think of it, Murray was right. Titicaca was a silly name.

The deal was done after Murray crossed their palms with palms, the seeds of which he had brought with him from the distant land of Egypt. The Diguenos, delighted with the palm seeds, planted them and thus sprang up the first oasis in that region, a place later known as La Jolla.

This is the preface to, perhaps, the most tragic love story in history, obviously plagiarized by William Shakespeare in his much later play, “Romeo and Juliet.”

It’s a story of two star crossed lovers that I will sadly relate next week, an oral story passed down over the millennia from its original Indian story teller, Will Shake Spear, finally to the ears of the man who saw a good thing and wrote down the story as his own, and who stole Shake Spear’s name in the bargain, morphing it to Shakespeare, not his real name.

If you are in the Atlanta area, plan to see “Kings of the Evening,” our-Picture Palace Films - award winning movie, which will run April 17th at 7:10 PM and at 4 PM on the 18th at the Atlanta Film Festival. A powerful feel-good film delivered by a strong cast.

Post Scriptum: As a result of my Cupeno Indian rain dance bit, I clouded up and rained all over Don McKinnon. KCBQ was back to # 1 within the first book after my return. He left town, leaving the battle field to me. He really was outstanding. I was lucky.

"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge Allegiance?"….Jay Leno