THE UNBELIEVABLE MR RIPLEY

The creator of Believe It or Not had an insatiable curiosity about strange and astonishing facts

- Douglas F. Storer

I first saw Bob Ripley, the creator of 'Believe It or Not', on a December evening more than 30 years ago. I was the brash young director-producer of a new coast-to-coast radio programme sponsored by the Hudson Motorcar Company, scheduled to go on the air in exactly 78 minutes.

We’d wanted an original and striking feature for the broadcasts and had hired Ripley sight unseen. During the rehearsal-time bedlam, I was handing out scripts, barking orders, yelling for quiet, when a large man, grinning like an embarrassed schoolboy, edged timidly through the studio door. He wore an ensemble straight out of a haberdasher’s nightmare: pale blue shirt, batwing tie of flamingo orange, checked horse-blanket jacket, fawncoloured slacks and gleaming blackand-white sports shoes.

He gave a nervous little bow. “You’re Bob Ripley?” I asked, blinking. He blushed and nodded. Speechless, I handed him the script.

All he had to do was read a 30-second introduction to a dramatized Believe It or Not story, and then at the end, authenticate the story and say good night. It sounds sweet and simple, but by the time we went off the air that memorable night, I was a tottering wreck and Ripley was even worse. Microphone fright? It was fantastic. His script rustled like a palm tree in a hurricane. Four times he dropped it, picked it up and each time nearly knocked over the microphone stand. He mumbled his lines, but he kept on, to the bitter end. When it was over, he reeled to the control room. “H-h-how’d I do?” he stammered.

His flushed face held an expression so boyish and appealing—so earnest and honest—that my professional outrage melted. I stuck out my hand. “You need a little practice. Outside of that, you were great.”