If you grew up in St. Louis about a half-century ago, you probably remember "Cooky and the Captain," the popular kids' TV show which aired on weekday afternoons from 1958 to 1967. Set on the atomic submarine S.S. Popeye, Cooky the sailor and his commanding officer — known simply as "Captain" — would show cartoons and engage in silly comedy bits while hosting groups of children who sat on stage with them.

The two actors were like Laurel and Hardy: Jim Bolen — also a long-time television weatherman and local musician — was Cooky, an innocent and gentle character who daily withstood goofy orders from the scheming, bombastic Captain. The kids always rooted for him, maybe because the Captain reminded us of crabby teachers or parents.

I was able to attend an episode of "Cooky and the Captain" with my first-grade class long ago, and I wish the memories were clearer. If that happened today, we'd have a DVD of the show and a downloaded clip on YouTube, but since those were the early years of television technology, the grainy black-and-white broadcast — which was probably transmitted live — is lost to the ages.

One thing I remember was receiving a gift bag full of the show's sponsoring products, including Harvest Bread and Bosco chocolate syrup. I loved Bosco, but our relationship suffered after they introduced their ad campaign of "Big, Original, Sweet, Choc-Ocolate." If you have that awful jingle running through your mind now, I apologize for unearthing the memory.

On the TV show, part of each day's routine was to select a few kids from the audience to serve as "Mates." As I recall, the chosen few Mates earned the privilege of introducing themselves on-camera and then announcing the next cartoon or participating in a routine. I didn't achieve Matehood.

Now jump ahead from there about 20 years. I was writing and producing radio and TV commercials in Clayton, and part of my responsibility was to hire appropriate voice talents.

One time I needed a deep, authoritative voice with a hint of gruffness, and the perfect choice was Dave Allen, the actor who had played the Popeye's Captain way back when. His career had moved on, of course, and by 1980 Dave was one of the most popular and respected voice guys in the region. I had never hired or auditioned him before that day, and I was a bit nervous and intimidated about our first professional encounter. Hey, the guy was a broadcast legend.

Dave was already at the studio when I arrived, and after swapping introductions, he politely said, "Nice to meet you." Seizing what I thought would be an opportunity to say something clever, I countered his greeting with, "Actually, this isn't the first time we've worked together."

He shot me a suspicious mini-glare and said, "Really?"

"Yes, I was on 'Cooky and the Captain' when I was 6." I waited for his laugh. None came. Not even a smile. Instead he took a drag of his cigarette and gave me that look again.

"Were you a Mate?"

"No," I answered.

"Well," he said slowly, using a line which I probably wasn't the first to hear, "if you were, I would have remembered you."

At the time, I was working for the St. Louis office of a New York ad agency, and after recording those commercials, I played them for my boss in Manhattan. He was understandably impressed by Dave's performance and wanted to know who the voice was.

Feigning shock at his East Coast ignorance, I gasped, "What? You don't recognize the Captain?"

Naturally, I then had to explain the background story of Dave and Cooky and the show and their place in St. Louis history. I didn't mention that I hadn't been a Mate.

About a year or so later, my New York counterparts and I were planning another radio campaign, and the boss suggested I bring back that voice he had liked before. Not knowing which commercials he meant, I asked him to refresh my memory.

"Oh, you know," he said. "The guy from Dickie and the General."

The next time I saw Dave, I shared that story with him, and he laughed so hard he could barely catch his breath. He was suffering from lung disease by then, and I felt bad about triggering a coughing fit.

When he settled down, Dave chuckled and said, "I gotta call Jim and tell him that one."

It was nice to know that after all those years, the Captain and Cooky were still collaborating.