It was a beautiful story. A friend sent it to me on the Internet a few days after the death of the beloved Captain Kangaroo (Bob Keeshan), America's Pied Piper who led millions of children out of mischief and their moms' hair to a seat in front of the TV for an entertaining and wholesome hour or so.

The story had to do with heroes and how we find them where we least expect. It was about modest heroes who were men of worth, a different cut from today's culture where too many heroes dwell in football stadiums, on rock star circuits, on TV talk shows and on the screaming screens of movie houses.

It had to do with the late tough guy actor Lee Marvin, who, the story said, is buried in Arlington Cemetery, where some visitors pause by his grave and mutter, "What's this guy doing here, a movie star sleeping among real heroes?"

The story pointed out that the modest Marvin deserved his plot in Arlington. A U.S. Marine during World War II, he had won a Purple Heart, as well as the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima.

How did Bob Keeshan figure in all this? The article explained, relating details of a Johnny Carson interview with Marvin on "The Tonight Show."

When Carson pointed out that few people knew of Marvin's war record and the fact that he'd been severely wounded in battle, Marvin said, "Yeah, yeah ... I got shot square in the butt and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Mount Suribachi. ... Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting shot hauling you down. But, Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew.

"We both got the Cross the same day. But what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. The dumb guy actually stood up on Red Beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. When they brought me off Suribachi, we passed the sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me lying on my belly on the litter and said, 'Where'd they get you, Lee?' Well, Bob,' I said, 'If you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!' Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew. Bob Keeshan. ... You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

Heartwarming story in a bad season for heroes, right? Only trouble is, according to my research on the Internet, Captain Kangaroo, a private first class in the Marine Corps, never saw active duty, much less lit Lee Marvin's cigarette at Iwo Jima. In fact, Marvin was wounded in the buttocks on Saipan and was home before Keeshan finished basic training. Neither was awarded the Navy Cross.

This past week, I've been receiving unsolicited e-mail urging me never to drink another Pepsi because the bottling company is coming out with a new can picturing the Empire State Building and the Pledge of Allegiance.

"But Pepsi forgot two little words 'Under God,' " the message read. "Please pass this word to everyone you know. Tell your Sunday School class. Tell your pastors so they can tell the whole congregation. Christians, stand up and let your voices be heard!"

Before pestering my pastor to take on Pepsi in the pulpit, I decided to investigate. As I guessed, it ain't so. Pepsi emphatically denies that it has even contemplated any such packaging, much less designed a can with the Pledge of Allegiance, with or without "Under God."

These are only two examples of the many total fabrications that find life in cyberspace. Decades ago when I ran a "Hotline" help column in The Raleigh Times, several people called or wrote to say that in response to a plea from Duke Hospital, they were saving empty cigarette packs to finance the medical expenses of a child in an iron lung. One desperate caller, who said her garage was piled high with boxes of empty cigarette packs, asked what to do with them. When I told her, she was furious.

Rumor once was spread by word of mouth. Now, it's done on the Internet, much faster and more damaging. It's a shame that we have come to the point that before we can believe the best or the worst of anyone we have to go to Google or Yahoo to see if there's a grain of truth in the report. Too many people don't go to the trouble to separate lies from legends before passing them on. Beware.