Mr. Austin, may I make a confession? I don't remember you as being separate from the phenomenon of television. Along with that hypnotic CBC television logo from the early seventies, you and your crime-fighting companions encompassed my memory of early childhood TV. I loved your show, but I had to hide behind the couch for the opening credits - I couldn't hack the bodily truth of mortal injury and techno-resurrection. You rose from the operating table, death-in-life, suddenly in the service of a shadow world of good and evil. And you beat up a Sasquatch, which is every North American boy's dream.