As It Happens

As it Happened: The Archive Edition - A day in the life of As It Happens

On that Monday in March, 1977, host Barbara Frum found herself helping to mediate a hostage crisis in a downtown Toronto bank; trying to make sense of a complex conspiracy surrounding a Canadian band believed to be The Beatles in disguise; and reminiscing with a former White House barber about Henry Kissinger's hairdo.

The Monday of March 21, 1977, was like most others in the studio: extraordinary

Former CBC Radio As It Happens host Barbara Frum, who died in 1992, once helped mediate a live hostage taking on the radio. (Ben Shannon/CBC)

In one way, March 21, 1977, was like any other As It Happens — a presentation of stories, both big and small, from home and abroad.

But in another way, it was like no other. For one thing, the top story involved then-host Barbara Frum essentially mediating a hostage-taking inside a downtown Toronto bank.

But the day didn't end there: she then had to wrap her head around a complex conspiracy theory that the Canadian band Klaatu was actually The Beatles in disguise. Not to mention check up on one man's claim that his Kellogg's frosted rice contained actual iron flakes.

On this week's As it Happened: The Archive Edition, we head back to that Monday evening in 1977 — to present a day in the life of As it Happens, as you would have heard it if you tuned in that night.

Here are the highlights from that day's coverage.

'I want to see my pal, Idi Amin'

#AIH50: Mediating a hostage negotiation on the radio

6 years ago
Duration 4:13
March 21, 1977: Late As It Happens host Barbara Frum spoke to a hostage taker, one of his hostages and a police officer as the situation was unfolding live. (Ben Shannon/CBC Radio)

Just before noon, 38-year-old Robert McLagan entered the Bank Canadian National on Yonge Street in downtown Toronto. Armed with a sawed-off shotgun, the self-described ex-mercenary proceeded to take the entire staff of the bank hostage.

Not long after, he was on the phone with As it Happens, explaining to Frum that he wanted a C-130 Hercules aircraft, so he could fly to Uganda to go visit his "pal," then-Ugandan president Idi Amin.

"I've never met the man, but I'm a fan of his," McLagan said. "I was a mercenary in the Congo in '65. "So I just want to get back down to that area. That's all."

Frum managed to convince McLagan to let her speak with one of the bank staff he was holding hostage.

Finally, she connected him with a police negotiator, who eventually secured his peaceful surrender — with no casualties.

Why many believed a Canadian band was actually The Beatles

"Have the Liverpool lads — once known as The Beatles — reunited under a veil of secrecy? There's a very strange rumour that has gripped every die-hard Beatles fan who has prayed for this second coming."

That's how Al Maitland, Frum's co-host at the time, introduced this next story that aired on March 21, 1977.

It involved the curious theory that the Canadian band Klaatu was actually The Beatles in disguise.

"Those Pixie mop-haired musicians may have recorded an album that is right now on the market," continued Maitland. "The album is called Klaatu. The group is called Klaatu, produced by Klaatu, written and published by Klaatu. And anybody who knows who Klaatu is ain't talkin'."

Unless you count Steve (Maitland mistakenly calls him Jim) Smith, a music critic for the Providence Journal. He was fairly convinced he knew who Klaatu were. And he was more than happy to talk about with Frum.

"The reason that the band wants to remain anonymous is because they want to be known for their music, and not for who they are," Smith told Frum. "I mean The Beatles know they can sell as The Beatles. Why not try and give it a try on just music alone?"

Klaatu was, in fact, comprised of John Woloschuk, Dee Long and Terry Draper. 

The breakfast cereal you could eat with a magnet

Rick McDonald, a television repairman in Seattle, Wash., told Frum about how he discovered that his Kellogg's Frosted Rice — new on the market at the time — contained small particles of actual iron in it.

"You have to give Kellogg's of Battle Creek credit," he said. "Because when it comes to a cereal fortified with iron, they certainly give you your money's worth."

McDonald said the iron looked like "something you might find in a physics laboratory" — a finely granulated powder.

"You'd have to actually finish the bowl of cereal to see a green residue at the bottom of the bowl, and iron flakes floating around in the bottom of it."

McDonald said he poured a whole bowl of dry cereal into a larger container, and by moving the magnet around inside, he was able to pick up tiny iron filaments in it.

He explained that as a TV repairman, he always kept a magnet in his shirt pocket for when he dropped much-needed nuts or bolts into hard-to-get places.

McDonald says Kellogg's apologized after he contacted the company, and sent him a cheque for $1.15.

As it Happened: The Archive Edition. Radio that sticks to your ribs.