When we were doing the morning program over the PA system in Elco High School as The Irregulars during our junior year (1965-66), we sometimes did book reviews. So it was that when I noticed that a new James Bond movie was being released, I decided to review the novel it was based on a few weeks before Thunderball arrived in the Academy Theater in Lebanon, PA.

I was a big Bond fan in those days and had read almost all of the novels, as well as Kingsley Amis’s critical evaluation of the Bond novels, The James Bond Dossier, so I was well versed in Ian Fleming’s secret agent, and I wrote the two or three minute review without a problem.

The script for that review no longer exists, but I know that I mentioned that the “Bond girl” of the novel, Domino Vitali, like all the “Bond girls” in Fleming’s novels, had a physical defect, in her case one of her legs was an inch shorter than the other, giving her a bit of a limp.

Later on that day, Sylvia Weaver and a couple other girls cornered me in the hall and asked me about my review. Sylvia claimed I had said that Domino had only one leg but it was shorter than the other one. How was that possible?

I tried to explain that I had said nothing of the kind, but when I checked my script I realized I had not stated it very clearly. I had said something like this:

The Bond girl of the novel is Domino Vitali, and like all of Ian Fleming’s Bond girls, she has a physical defect. In her case, her one leg is shorter than the other.

Obviously I should have tested the script on someone before going live with it. Lesson learned.

A few weeks later in the middle of February when Thunderball rolled into the Academy Theater in Lebanon, Terry Wolfe approached me.

Terry and I had been in the same class in eighth grade, but we hadn’t shared any classes since then. He lived in Myerstown and I in Richland, and we weren’t really friends, but we always got along well, Terry being the easy-going chap that he was. I’m not sure, but I assume that we were in the same homeroom that year, but as I’ve mentioned previously, that’s the year that I can’t recall my homeroom teacher. It’s a complete wash, as far as I’m concerned, probably because I didn’t spend much time there due to all the time I spent with The Irregulars.

Anyway Terry and his parents were going to see Thunderball and he asked if I wanted to go along. They’d drive over to Richland to pick me up and drop me off afterwards. Well, of course, I would. Thanks, Terry! I was too grateful to even wonder why he was inviting me of all people; as I said, he and I were friendly, but we weren’t really friends.

He was as good as his word, and with his father at the wheel, they came to pick me up and off we went to the Academy Theater, getting there in plenty of time. It was the only occasion I ever met his parents, and I remember them as a pleasant couple, somewhat livelier than Terry who was always a bit laid back.

We all enjoyed the movie, as did the rest of the audience which was packed almost to overflowing.

On our way back to the car we were all laughing and pointing out highlights that we had enjoyed from the flick. Except—

I noticed that Terry and his parents were all pointing out the gadgets, the big splashy moments, and the Bond quips, while I was mentioning all the double entendres and sexual innuendos. Well, one of my classmates had accused me of having a dirty mind. I finally realized that I was with Terry and his parents, so I shut up and let them continue.

Then I had to write the review. I’m not sure if I wrote it that night for the following morning, or if I waited a day or two.

In my review, I compared Thunderball somewhat unfavorably to the movie version of Othello with Laurence Olivier, which our class had recently gone to see.

You guessed it. Terry caught me in the hall: “What?! I thought you liked the movie! Your review sounded like you hated it. What gives?” 

Terry wasn’t usually so animated. I had certainly never seen him so worked up.

I tried to explain, but Terry was pissed and hurt. Clearly he had invited me to go along because he expected me to review the movie, and he expected me to give it a glowing review.

And I would have. Except— 

Shortly after I had reviewed the Thunderball novel, Mr. Kugle, my history teacher from the previous year, had stopped me in the hall. I don’t recall his exact words, but he suggested that given that the James Bond novels and movies were filled with sex and violence and that some critics felt they were over-filled with sex and violence, perhaps I should not be promoting them quite so enthusiastically to grades seven through twelve. 

Or something like that.

So I resolved to tone down my praise somewhat. After my encounter with Terry, I realized that perhaps I had toned it down a little too much.

As Lincoln said, you can’t please all the people all the time…