September 20, 2025

This week in TV Guide: September 24, 1966



It doesn't seem right that we'd pass up the opportunity to talk about Barbara Eden when she's on the cover of TV Guide, does it?

Unfortunately, we don't get nearly enough of Jeannie in this feature, which is about the show's transition from last season's black and white episodes to this year, in which she appears in living color. (On the other hand, Jeannie in color has to be good news no matter how one looks at it.) But it's an interesting story, because it presents a situation that we don't think about all that often: the series that started out in B&W and then made the switch to color. For some longer-running shows, this was kind of a downgrade; I don't think anyone would argue that The Fugitive and Combat! were better in color; monochrome was particularly effective in transmitting the grittiness and darkness in these shows, not to mention that "exterior" scenes shot in a studio are usually a little easier to disguise in black and white. There are some who would even make the case that a show like The Wild Wild West benefitted from black and white; it toned down the surreality of the steampunk devices utilized throughout the show's history, and made the show a little more grounded.

On the other hand, I don't know that there's any particular disadvantage to a show such as I Dream of Jeannie being shot in color, particularly since the show's designers really knew how to take advantage of it. This week's story details how the show's special effects man, Dick Albain, along with his five assistants, "spent weeks inventing a process to create a cloudy effect which would seemingly waft the beautiful Barbara across TV screens." The effect was eventually achieved through a combination of dry ice, steam, mirrors, and a system of colored lights. "We manufactured different colors of smoke, all traveling as in a Frankenstein marsh scene," Albain explains. "The idea was to show the viewers that Jeannie is going from one scene to another."


These kinds of detail are, I suppose, things that one doesn't ordinarily consider when looking at the effort required to transition a show to color. Of course, even in those monochrome days, the colors used in sets and costumes was an important consideration, given that certain colors transmit off a different look or in black and white. (Case in point: the pink interior of the Addams Family living room.) And when you consider the vividness of the potential color in a Jeannie episode, it's easy to understand how both the "All Color Network" and the show's producers would want to exploit it to its utmost. 

Eden says that shooting with the new effects is "like being in a beautiful fairyland, among the mirrors, smoke and lights. The smoke is my traveling music." That's not to say that it's all good news on the set, though. She also concedes that it gets pretty hot after a couple of hours with those colored lights. "Not only that, but my expensive silk-chiffon pants shrank." Oh dear.

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During the 60s, the Ed Sullivan Show and The Hollywood Palace were the premiere variety shows on television. Whenever they appear in TV Guide together, we'll match them up and see who has the best lineup..

Sullivan: Scheduled guests: Ethel Merman; the rock ‘n’ rolling Supremes; Frank Fontaine; Allen Funt, who shows films of Ed’s appearance in “Candid Camera’; pianist Peter Nero; comics Nipsey Russell and Steve Rossi; dancer Peter Gennaro; the comic Uncalled for Three; and baseball greats Rube Marquard, Lefty O’Doul and Fred Snodgrass. (The Sullivan online listings omit Funt, Gennaro, and the baseball greats.)

Palace: Phil Silvers, making his debut as a Palace host, introduces singers Polly Bergen, Sergio Franchi and the folk-rocking Lovin’ Spoonful; and the comedy team of Carl Reiner and "2000-year-old man" Mel Brooks. Also on the bill: sword-swallower Tagora, and Mr. and Mrs. Bob Top, who roller-skate on a 60-foot-high platform.   

This week's choice really depends on what you're looking for. If comedy's your thing, then Silvers, Reiner and Brooks are very, very hard to beat. On the other hand, if it's music, then you might lean toward the Supremes, Peter Nero, and the Merm as your pick. As befits an early-season matchup, they're both strong lineups, and consequently, you shouldn't be surprised that I'm begging off on taking a stand. This week is a Push.

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From 1963 to 1976, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever they appear, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era

Every once in a while, Our Man Cleve punts on reviewing a specific program in favor of taking on an entire genre. This is one of those weeks, as Cleve shares with us a few thoughts on sports before taking up the new season's shows.

As Amory perceptively observes, "Many people originally started their TViewing with sports." Think about it: what are your early television memories? Mine are almost exclusively sports, and it's not just because it's easier to identfy such events by titles, such as an all-star game, World Series, or Super Bowl. And, in fact, there has never been a time in the medium's history when sports hasn't been a main part of the draw: wrestling, boxing, even, as Amory points out, roller derby. They were easy to cover, operating in essentially a self-contained studio, and they had a ready-made audience. However, nowadays sports has become such a big part of TV that "the chief danger now is that TV’s going to take over sports altogether—and even change our sports seasons." Have truer words ever been spoken?

By and large, television has done right by its expanded coverage, particularly when it comes to golf, "a sport you would hardly consider a spectator one to begin with." The recent introduction of instant replay and stop-action tapes has been "outstanding"; "Miserable as they may be for umpires, they are terrific for viewers, particularly on such a fine show as the weekly Major League Baseball." However, there's one trend that Cleve is apprehensive about, and that's that announcers for local games are hired "with the approval of the major-league teams and paid by the teams or the TV sponsors." Regardless of how these announcers go about their jobs (and, Amory notes, the vast majority "lean over backwards to be fair to their team's opponents"), it is the appearance that matters, and here the look is not a good one; announcers should be free from the suspicion such controls create; better yet, they "should be free of such control." 

I wonder what Amory would think about today's televised sports, where entire networks (looking at you, ESPN) are owned or about to be owned in part by one of the leagues whose games it covers. It raises concerns about the objectivity of those in the business, whether they're announcing the games or, in the case of a network like ESPN, the network itself presumes to style itself as a news-reporting outlet. In so doing, it creates a situation which even a forward-looking critic such as Cleveland Amory might have had trouble anticipating. And, as is so often the case, it creates a situation where nobody knows how it ends. That's not the kind of drama we look for from sports on television.

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Let's stay with this sports motif a moment longer, because, as Henry Harding writes in his For the Record column, "The weekend of Sept. 10 and 11 probably broke some sports record or other, at least where TV is concerned." "Never before," Harding says, "had so much muscle been strained before so many frenetic fans." The entertainment included an NFL game on September 10 between the Baltimore Colts and Green Bay Packers*, a heavyweight title bout between Cassius Clay and Karl Mildenberger, the baseball Game of the Week between the St. Louis Cardinals and Pittsburgh Pirates, and the first major college football game of the season pitting Syracuse and Baylor. Viewers were also treated to the finals of the U.S. Tennis Championships at Forest Hills, and the final two rounds of the World Series of Golf. 

*What's perhaps most surprising about this to modern eyes is that the NFL was trounced in the ratings by NBC's coverage of the Miss America Pageant. Today, that pageant barely exists as an entity, let alone a TV behemoth, while the NFL just purchased 10 percent of ESPN, and even owns a share of CBS. 

For contrast—and admit it, you knew this was coming—let's take a look at sports on television for the weekend of September 6 and 7 of this year. As was the case back in 1966, the offerings included the men's and women's finals of U.S. Open tennis, and there's baseball and football. Specifically, there's a lot of football; setting aside for the moment the myriad options offered by streaming services and league-operated networks, the average viewer could choose from a single college football game on CBS and NBC each, two on Fox, three each on ABC and the CW, and literally dozens more on cable. There was also time for Saturday night baseball on Fox, plus soccer (both professional and college, volleyball, and other marginal sports. Sunday was, not surprisingly, dominated by pro football, with at least three NFL games to choose from on Sunday afternoon between Fox and CBS, plus one on NBC Sunday night (and an additional game on Monday night on ABC, for those counting). There was also NASCAR and Formula 1 auto racing, men's and women's soccer, along with regional baseball for those with local teams. 

In other words, if one were to include streaming sports from around the world, a viewer could literally go from the NFL game on Friday on YouTube clear through to late Sunday night watching nothing but sports. Even with those having nothing other than an antenna (the most like-for-like comparison with 1966), one could easily go from noon to midnight both Saturday and Sunday with sports as a constant presence. With the amount of money networks spend for the rights to telecast sports—an amount in the billions of dollars—one has to ask if sports have taken over television, or if television has taken over sports. It is, to be sure, a mutually agreeable situation for both, and not a bad deal for the fans, either.

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The first month or so of a new season is often rife with big names, specials, and blockbusters of one kind or another, and this week is no exception. The highlights begin, appropriately enough, on Saturday, with the first of ten original musicals on The Jackie Gleason Show (7:30 p.m., CBS). Tonight's presentation, "The Politician," stars Gleason as Big Jim Finley, a machine politician running for re-election as mayor against an opponent, Frank Meriweather who is everything Finney isn't: astronaut, veteran, and movie star. Elliot Reid is Meriweather, and Art Carney, the indispensable man, plays Finley's advisor. I think many of us are familiar with Gleason's later Honeymooners musicals, but this is something I wasn't familiar with. Later, on David Susskind's Play of the Week (9:00 p.m., KQED), it's "A Cool Wind Over the Living," with Diana Hyland and James Patterson as two young people pondering their lives while attempting to gas themselves to death—even though they haven't paid their bill and the gas company has shut off the service. Not quite the network fare you'd see today.

Amongst all the football on Sunday, we've got some gems. On KNTV in San Jose, it's the Oscar-winning movie All the King's Men (4:30 p.m.), a political drama-cum-gothic horror story, with Broderick Crawford outstanding as Willie Stark, a man for our times. On the Bell Telephone Hour (6:30 p.m., NBC), it's an up-close-and-personal at Gian Carlo Menotti's festival of Two Worlds in Spoleto, Italy. Appearing with the composer of "Amahl and the Night Visitors" and "The Saint of Bleecker Street" are conductor Thomas Schippers, pianist Sviatoslav Richter, and soprano Shirley Verrett. And perhaps the week's highlight, the television premiere of The Bridge on the River Kwai, the Oscar-winning Best Picture of 1957, starring Alec Guinness. Unlike most epics of the time, Kwai is broadcast uncut and on a single night; it will draw an audience of 72 million viewers, at the time the largest ever to view a movie broadcast, and a 61 percent share. You think a network wouldn't kill for something like that today?

On Monday, the great Stan Freberg makes a rare television appearance on The Monkees (7:30 p.m., NBC), in an episode where the boys try to get regular jobs in order to pay the rent, but Peter has to deal with a computer aptitude test. In local movies, the sinking of the Titanic, which had faded in memory after two World Wars, first returned to the public consciousness in the movie of the same name (9:30 p.m., KSBW in Salinas), with Clifton Webb, Barbara Stanwyck, and Robert Wagner. Don't mistake this for the more recent Titanic movie, which might be more spectacular, but this fictional story of the great ship's foundering, which was my introduction to a lifelong interest in the Titanic, tells a pretty good story on its own. And Johnny Carson welcomes a couple of heavyweight guests to The Tonight Show (11:15 p.m., NBC) in Vice President Hubert Humphrey and Bob Hope.

Boris Karloff makes a delightful appearance on The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. (Tuesday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), dressed for the role of "Mother Muffin" a kindly old woman who also runs an assassination academy. Bruce Gordon, whom we all know and love as Frank Nitti on The Untouchables, guest stars as gangster Vito Pomade, and don't even begin to ask how he fits into the story. The night's rounded off by a couple of serious-minded programs: a CBS Reports look at "Black Power—White Backlash" (10:00 p.m.), documenting the mounting white concern about the rise of the civil rights movement in the North. On NET, Open Mind (10:00 p.m.) features an interview with the provocative media critic Marshall McLuhan, who discusses some of his theories on the effect of media on man’s consciousness. 

I can't think of a better way to get Wednesday started than with The Today Show (7:00 a.m., NBC), with Burr Tillstrom and his Kuklapolitan Players. In primetime, Bob Hope hosts his first special of the new season (9:00 p.m., NBC), in which he announces that his "favorite leading lady" will be starring with him in a musical version of Gone with the Wind. Just who is that "favorite" lady? Among the competitors are Lucille Ball, Madeleine Carroll, Joan Caulfield, Joan Collins, Arlene Dahl, Phyllis Diller, Anita Ekberg, Rhonda Fleming, Joan Fontaine, Signe Hasso, Hedy Lamarr, Dorothy Lamour, Marilyn Maxwell, Virginia Mayo, Dina Merrill, Vera Miles, Janis Paige and Jane Russell. No wonder Bob's developed a nervous twitch. 

On Thursday, it's the fourth and final episode of The Tammy Grimes Show (8:30 p.m., ABC), so if you've been thinking about checking out this much-maligned show (and I don't know why you would), here's your last chance. At the time, it was almost unheard-of for a series to be cancelled this quickly; obviously, things have changed a bit since then. An eponymous show of a slightly more successful bent is The Dean Martin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), and Deano's got a star-studded lineup tonight, with Duke Ellington and his rhythm section, the Andrews Sisters, Frank Gorshin, Tim Conway, and Lainie Kazan.

Friday night, it's a rare NFL weeknight matchup, with the San Francisco 49ers taking on the Los Angeles Rams from the Los Angeles Coliseum (8:00 p.m., KTVU); due to the Sports Broadcasting Act of 1961, the game is limited to coverage by local stations. As I recall, the scheduling was due to a stadium conflict with USC, but I could be mistaken on that. And on the short-lived—although not as short-lived as Tammy Grimes—Milton Berle Show (9:00 p.m., ABC), Uncle Miltie welcomes Forrest Tucker, Larry Storch, and Ken Berry from the network's F Troop, plus singer Donna Loren and Johnny Puleo and the Harmonica Rascals. Oh, and I almost forgot: Bob Hope, too. Remember how a week or two ago I said something about Bob Hope never meeting a show he wasn't willing to appear on? I swear, he must have had a standing agreement that any program needing a guest star had to give him first dibs. There was a reason why Hope was a big star, though.

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MST3K alert: The Black Scorpion
 
(1957). The Mexican Army is called out to battle a horde of man-eating scorpions, but one of the creatures escapes and heads for Mexico City. Richard Denning, Mara Corday, Carlos Rivas. (Sunday, 2:30 p.m., KXRA in Sacramento) Richard Denning, after solving mysteries with his wife on Mr. and Mrs. North, but before being elected governor of Hawaii (even though we all know Steve McGarrett really ran the state), had time to hunt down giant scorpions. If you've seen the MST3K take, you'll agree with me that they should have left Juanito down in that cavern. TV  


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September 19, 2025

Around the dial



Good morning from Towson, Maryland, where I'm coming to you live today from the Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention, our annual pilgrimage where we can talk about old TV and movies without sounding hopelessly out of touch with the rest of the world. Although considering the state of the world today, being out of touch isn't such a bad thing. After all, around here, when people talk about late night television, it's usually either Johnny Carson or a test pattern. And speaking as I was the other day about "old," it's not such a bad thing. Anyway, let's get to it.

At Comfort TV, David gives me the chance to link to someone else promoting me, with his very kind review of Darkness in Primetime. And by the way, have you purchased your copy yet? You do want to be part of the cool crowd, don't you? 

John is back in documentary mode at Cult TV Blog with this look at the infamous "Nine O'Clock Service" experiment in the Church of England; it's a double-header post, because John also tells us about an admirable book that serves as a perfect compliment to the documentary. It makes for disgusting reading; afterward, I felt as if I had to take another shower.

I'm breaking from Roger's A-Team reviews at A View from the Junkyard for his look at "The Computer Wore Menace Shoes," an all-time Simpsons classic featuring Patrick McGoohan's final television performance as the redoubtable Number 6. I'll tell you no more about it; read it for yourself.

At Classic Film and TV Corner, Maddie celebrates an anniversary of a show that both she and I count as a favorite: The Wild Wild West, which premiered 60 years ago. Besides Robert Conrad and Ross Martin, the show was blessed with terrific guest stars, especially Michael Dunn; it also had going for it something increasingly rare on television: an original idea.

In my TV Guide pieces, I've occasionally mentioned Startime, one of the shows from the end of the Golden Age that truly lived up to its name as a home for star-studded spectaculars; at Drunk TV, Paul looks at the 1959 broadcast of "The Jazz Singer," starring Jerry Lewis in a then-rare dramatic role. It's an opportunity to look at a color broadcast from the late 1950s, and worth checking out.

Garry Berman is back with ten great sitcom episodes that seldom get talked about, and it's particularly interesting considering how many of these episodes are from series that we're quite familiar with. Being a completist at heart, it's always nice to go into those deep cuts and see what you come up with.

What's that, you say? Assorted trivia from TV Guide? Well, I'm not going to pass this up, thanks to Martin Grams. I will always say that TV Guide is one of the best time capsules you can find. And speaking of MANC as we were, I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you of the presentation I gave here a few years ago on the very subject of TV Guide as a time capsule!  TV


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September 17, 2025

How old is "old"?




I've long since become accustomed to the idea that nothing of much value comes from the BBC, including the letters "B" and "C." I'm not here, though, to rag on the BBC. Instead, I'm going to rag on an article I bookmarked from the BBC website about four years ago.

The article, by David Renshaw, asks the question: Is Watching Old TV Good For the Soul? For those of us who hang out here, the answer is obviously yes. It is, in the words of my friend David Hofstede, Comfort TV. It's something of an existential question, getting to the heart not only of what old television purports to be, but how it intersects with the increasingly fluid values displayed in today's pop culture. I suppose you could describe it as the basis for everything this website is about, and in fact I did describe it that way in the first chapter of The Electronic Mirror, which is pretty much all about the question of what classic television is. The only question that concerns me right now, however, is how you define the word old

I've used the words old and classic more or less interchangeably in that paragraph, because that's how I've always thought of it myself. Maybe I've been wrong about that, though. Someone once suggested using the word "vintage" instead of "classic," since classic implies a certain quality that doesn't necessarily depend on age; hence the otherwise oxymoronic term "instant classic." (I suppose one could say that "instant classic" is as oxymoronic as "instant coffee," but since I don't drink coffee, I don't have a horse in that race.) Anyway, it was a good suggestion, but I was already too far down the road I've taken to change, and so the term remains "classic television."*

*Or, as I call it in Darkness in Primetime, "Classic-Era Television." 

But this Renshaw article redefines old in a way that isn't familiar to me. Some of the "old" television programs mentioned in the article include:
  • The Sopranos
  • The Office
  • Seinfeld
  • The West Wing
Depending on what you think of them, these shows (and others from their era) could, I suppose, be considered classic, but would you consider them old? I don't; to me, "old" means the 1950s and 1960s, perhaps the 1970s. I suppose, though, today's viewers would consider them not old, but ancient. Maybe that's what bothers me about this article; after all, if shows from less than 30 years ago can be considered old, what does that make me, in the early years of my seventh decade? Am I ancient too? Hell, I'm not even eligible for Medicare yet. 

It gets worse. Renshaw quotes Daniel D'Addario, Variety's head TV critic: "'The sea-change I'm really expecting is that there will come a point where we're so far past Friends and The Office that future generations cannot relate to them,' he says, pointing to I Love Lucy as an example of a classic TV show that no longer chimes with modern audiences."

It's true that I've never been much of a fan of Lucy, but I'm going to take a stand on her behalf here. Yes, the world populated by Lucy and Ricky Ricardo is one that might appear foreign to modern audiences, unless they grew up watching Mad Men (another "old" program). And yet, I have to ask why Lucy wouldn't chime with them? The show's humor, much of it rooted in the human condition, is timeless, and often laugh-out-loud funny. Love, friendship, misunderstandings, couples getting mad and making up—these are things that have tickled the funny bones of people for generations. And as for slapstick, someone once said that nothing was funnier than a man slipping on a banana peel, because the anticipation was half of the fun. Isn't that how we feel when Lucy and Ethel are trying to keep up with the chocolates on the assembly line in the candy factory? And I'm not just talking about comedy; is there any who can really say, with a straight face, that a show like The Twilight Zone doesn't have something to say to us today?

No, you know what kinds of shows I think future generations won't be able to relate to? Shows that traffic in political proselytizing in the guise of entertainment. These shows don't even attempt to be timeless; they're geared to appeal to others of similar beliefs, a kind of secret handshake that welcomes like-minded viewers into an exclusive club, from which they can laugh at and ridicule those outside their clubhouse walls. I suppose these shows, like so many other things in our modern economy, are designed to be disposable; considering the number of programs viewers can choose from (532 original scripted television series were created last year), maybe they don't need to have any shelf life at all. We watch them, and when we're done with them, we just throw them away. Maybe it's just me, but I doubt that in twenty years, very many people are going to be laughing at jokes about presidents with orange hair.

The best part of this article, by far, is D'Addario's explanation of why people turn to old shows, and it's as David Hofstede says: for comfort. "[T]here is the comfort of familiarity. The things people are binging are not deeply experimental, you know the rhythms of these shows very well. It's about knowing what you're getting and letting it wash over you." And for people who feel alienated from today's world that seems to say that right is wrong, left is right, up is down—well, for them (and there are a lot of them), that familiarity is not going to be found exclusively in the shows of the last thirty years; they're going to find it in shows like Leave it to Beaver, Andy Griffith, and, yes, I Love Lucy.

It is, I think, alarming that we've come to the point that we consider something from thirty years ago as old. It really doesn't have anything to do with television at all, you know. It's a disregard for experience, for history, for tradition; it's a scorn for values that were accepted and lived out for centuries, if not millennia. It's the mark of a society that thinks only the now is important and that values are transitory, that crucifies people for the sin of having been products of their time, that views the past and those from it as being as disposable as, well, those TV shows I was talking about. 

So that brings us back to the question I posed at the beginning: how old is old? It's a question we all struggle to answer; we keep coming up with trite phrases like "60 is the new 40"* and then plaster them on wooden plaques we hang on our walls to make ourselves feel better as the birthdays ramp up; we keep talking and dressing and living as if we're still twenty years younger than we are. We don't want to grow up, let alone grow old.

*Being half a decade past 60, I can assure you that I do not feel 40. In many ways, my life is much better; nevertheless, my body says otherwise.

There are those who say that seeking comfort in nostalgia is an attempt to escape the world of today, but maybe it's also a way of acknowledging that we're all growing older, at the rate of 60 minutes per hour, and that we've come to terms with it. Watching television from the 1950s and 1960s isn't a way of trying to recapture our youth—it's admitting that, like these shows, we are old, and we accept it. As Harry Reasoner (a really old TV guy, and therefore of no importance) once said, no matter how a man tries to avoid risk or grasp for youth, "he may get one day extra or none; he never gets eternity." Not in this world, anyway. TV


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September 15, 2025

What's on TV? Wednesday, September 20, 1978



Today we have examples of two programs on commercial television that we're more accustomed to seeing on public broadcasting: Doctor Who and Monty Python's Flying Circus. Doctor Who's history in the United States began in the 1970s with the half-hour episodes appearing in syndication via Time-Life Television, and while it's always been identified with PBS, it would occasionally pop up on a commercial station, often in the late afternoon timeslot, as we see here on WTEV. Monty Python sightings on independent stations, in this case WKBG, are also unusual (if more common than Doctor Who), but at least it's being shown in a timeslot that its fans would recognize from PBS airings: 11:00 p.m. A couple of interesting rarities, courtesy of this week's Eastern New England issue.

September 13, 2025

This week in TV Guide: September 16, 1978



This week TV Guide assembles its panel of experts to assess the chances of success for the 21 new shows on the Fall schedule. Those experts are four advertising executives heavily involved in steering sponsorship money to the new season's programs: Lou Dorkin of Dancer-Fitzgerald-Sample, Joel Segal of Ted Bates & Co., Inc., Michael Lepiner of Benton & Bowles Inc., and Paul Schulman of Gardner Advertising Companies. Collectively, they're responsible for committing "tens of millions of their clients' money to the new season's programs."

As usual, when I look at lists like this, I start at the bottom and work my way up, and as I looked at the bottom three (#21, People;  #20, The Paper Chase*; #19, Lifeline), I thought the critics had sized things up pretty well: People, a TV version of the magazine hosted by Phyllis George, made it through eight episodes; while Lifeline, a real-life documentary series focusing on a hospital ER, survived for 18 episodes spread over two seasons; meanwhile, The Paper Chase was an overrated series that was cancelled by CBS after one season and lasted for three additional seasons on PBS. So far, so good—or so bad, in this case.

*To its credit, Paper Chase, a show I always considered outrageously overrated, was admired by the panelists as "a quality effort" and a "touch of class." Of course, as anyone in the business can tell you, it's better to be popular than admired; while the series did make it through four seasons (including three on PBS), the praise given it amounts to little more than the Miss Congeniality award of the year.

But as I wound my way up the list, I began to wonder if those critics had really been as perceptive as I'd originally thought. There was Apple Pie at #18, The American Girls at #17, The Waverly Wonders* at #15, W.E.B. at #13, The Eddie Capra Mysteries at #11. None of these series scored higher than a one from any member of the panel, and given that one point meant "a marginal show that could survive but probably won't" (several of them received zeros, meaning "a natural-born loser"), I started to understand the unvarnished truth: the great majority of the new shows were, quite simply, bad. Continuing, there was Sword of Justice at #10, In the Beginning at #8, Mary at #5—was there no hope for this season?

*Supposedly, Larry Hagman was offered the choice between The Waverly Wonders, a sitcom in which he'd be the lead, and a prime-time drama where he would play an "unscrupulous and ruthless" character. He chose the latter, which was called Dallas, and attained television immortality. The lead in Waverly went to Joe Namath, who went on to demonstrate, over the course of four episodes, why he made the Hall of Fame as a football player.

There was a faint glimmer of light in Mork & Mindy, the #7 show, which runs for four seasons, the longest of any show outside the top four. That it didn't finish higher is understandable; three of the four panelists gave it a zero, and Dorkin calls it "strictly kid-stuff" and a "one-note gag." However, it also indicates that the panel either misjudged or didn't appreciate the magnetism of Robin Williams, which is perhaps understandable; a personality of his magnitude doesn't come along very often. To his credit, though, Schulman sees this as "the sleeper of the year." Dorkin was more positive about the #4 series, WKRP in Cincinnati; he ranks it "the comedy breakthrough of the season," and likes its chances even against NBC's Little House on the Prairie

Taxi
, at #3 on our list, is perhaps the most successful of all the season's new shows; it runs for five seasons over two different networks, and leaves with 18 Emmy Awards (including three for Best Comedy Series), along with a host of beloved characters. It doesn't hurt that it airs on ABC between Three's Company and Starsky & Hutch. There's no missing #2, though: Battlestar Galactica, which scores 11 out of a possible 12 points, not to mention a spot on this week's cover. It is, the panel agrees, the only new series that "is in any sense innovative," and it's been given a desirable spot on Sunday night, the most heavily-viewed night of the week. "It's bound to attract by the zillions kids and young adults who are famished for more Star Wars thrills and intergalactic derring-do." And it did, indeed, go on to become a multi-season success, although in order to do so it would have to wait 25 years to be rebooted on a cable network that didn't even exist in 1978. 

This brings us to the #1 show, one that is considered an absolutely, positively, guaranteed success. Each of our four critics gave the series a score of three points, which meant "a show that's a sure winner [that] is destined to be a front runner in the ratings." That show happens to be Vega$, starring Robert Urich, and while it was a solid success, running for three seasons and remains fondly remembered by many (not least because of Audrey Davis and Judy Landers), it's not quite the unqualified, long-running hit that one might have expected, particularly considering the prime scheduling slot it's been given, immediately following Charlie's Angels. However, given the shows we've seen in this list, it qualifies as an unqualified success.

If you're somewhat underwhelmed by what you've seen here, you're not alone. ABC's schedule, for example, is decried as "junk," "kiddy-porn," and "bubble-gum banality," yet it's also agreed that the network—and its highly successful programming—is now considered "the model for the other two networks who are transparently attempting to duplicate its success." It doesn't take long for the results to show; several of the new series are gone by November, including Mary Tyler Moore's Mary, which is pulled after four episodes at Mary's request. In case you're thinking that hope lies around the corner with the mid-season replacements, guess again: those replacements include Hello, Larry, Supertrain, Sweepstakes, and David Cassidy–Man Undercover, and The Stockard Channing Show. To be fair, though, it also includes The Dukes of Hazard and Diff'rent Strokes. But if you're thinking that this new season was pretty underwhelming, you're absolutely right. And to their credit, the panelists were pretty accurate in their predictions. But then, how could they not be, when most of what they had to choose from were bombs? 

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Among those looking at the new season is our erstwhile critic, Robert MacKenzie. He's not offering any reviews, not yet anyway; too early for that, and some of these shows won't be on long enough to be reviewed anyway. Curiously, though, he sees a number of the 21 shows as "unusually promising"—on paper, at least. He likes the idea of Lifeline, and the rise of nonfiction television in general, although I suspect he might have had second thoughts had he seen these quasi-documentaries morph into unscripted "reality" television that, in reality, was anything but. He praises NBC's Fred Silverman for his commitment to "More prime-time news specials and documentaries," although perhaps their most interesting documentary would have been one explaining how a program like Supertrain gets greenlighted for the second season. 

He's also encouraged that television has finally come to realize that shows can be set in cities other than New York or Los Angeles, as evidenced by The Paper Chase (somewhere in the Northeast), Vega$ (Las Vegas), WKRP in Cincinnati (Cincinnati), and Battlestar Galactica (outer space). Just for good measure, he throws in W.E.B., a show that "threatens to take us inside the world of network broadcasting." (At five episodes, I wonder if he got a chance to review it?) Well, he does warn us that "This will not be a comedy, unless unintentionally."

As for what he terms "the Beach Blanket Bounce-off," those shows featuring girls dressed (or undressed) in bikinis, towels, and nighties, "The critic, no sexist he, will judge these series on their merits, with only proper attention to their charms."

Rest assured, though, that MacKenzie, as is the case with any good critic, is "free to draw the useful and happy distinction between good ratings and good television." It's not necessarily the case that never the twain shall meet, but, borrowing the royal "we" from our hero Cleve, "We plan to keep an open mind, a condition that is best maintained in a horizontal position," with the eyes closed and the feet up.

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Back in the days when networks actually aired movies, one of the treats of the new season was seeing some of these blockbusters make their television premieres. And in an effort to get the maximum impact from these premieres, the networks are quite apt to do one of two things: add additional footage to expand the running time so the movies can be turned into two-parters; or remove footage so the movies can be shown on TV in the first place.

An example of the latter is The Bad News Bears (Friday, 9:00 p.m., ABC), which Judith Crist calls "one of the best kids' movies of recent years." Until, that is, the movie was "bowdlerized" by ABC. One of the movie's strengths, in addition to "top-notch" performances from Walter Matthau, Tatum O'Neal, and Jackie Earle Haley, was that "for once screen kids talked the way human kids do." Unfortunately, "the salty speech has been sugared for TV, even though 10 million kids will know the three little words that are missing from that tag line." More evidence, in case we needed it, that the kids are often a lot more advanced than the adults, which, in fact, would answer quite a few of the questions regarding how kids are brought up nowadays.

At the other end of the scale, we have two cases in which movies that were perhaps already too long are being made even longer, thanks to the addition of "additional" footage that was, mostly, culled from the cutting room floor. The wisdom of the film editors can easily be seen in Airport '77 (Tuesday and Wednesday, 9:00 p.m. each night, NBC), in which 70, count 'em 70, minutes have been added, 67 of them being outtakes, to, as Crist says, "pad out scenes." It doesn't add anything to a movie that has completely abandoned the airport premise of the first two films; "Not to worry, disaster and/or cliche lovers," Crist assures us; "all goes unsmoothly and there are some exciting air-sea rescue operations after the plan winds up at the bottom of the ocean in, no less, the Bermuda Triangle."

The other premiere to get the stretch treatment is the 1976 remake of King Kong (Saturday and Sunday, 9:00 p.m. each night, NBC), which has 65 minutes being added to the 134 minutes of the theatrical release, all of it outtakes. Alas, the new footage can't hide the reality: the charm of the original 1933 classic "is lost amid all the hydraulic manipulations and plastic. For those who don't know the original film, the new version can be a foolish entertainment. For those who do, it's a travesty."

One might think we'll fare better with movies that make it to the small screen more or less intact, but such is not the case of 1976's The Shootist (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), with John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Lauren Bacall, and Ron Howard "wasted" in "a tediously pretentious and vapid melodrama about the last days of a 'legendary' killer." Wayne and Bacall emerge from the movie as "anachronistic antiques," in Crist's words. I happen to like The Shootist myself, but I'm willing to allow as to how this may be an example of a movie that ages well; part of its power, I think, comes from it being the Duke's last movie, and seen in the light of a dying actor in his final movie playing a dying gunman in his last hurrah, it takes on a resonance and emotional charge that it might not necessarily have had during its original viewing. Put another way, if Wayne had gone on to make five or six movies after The Shootist, would we remember it as fondly as we do?

Even old reliables aren't necessarily a guarantee of success; take Lassie: The New Beginning, another two-parter (this one a telemovie, so the padding is all intentional), airing Sunday at 7:00 p.m. on ABC, with the conclusion being shown next Sunday at the same time. It is, says Crist, "probably the worst of the nine theatrical films and innumerable TV-series episodes" since the original 1943 Lassie Come Home, and considering its plot—two kids faced, in part one alone, with "grandma's illness, a trek from Arizona to California to be dumped on an uncle who dislikes them, grandma's death, separation from Lassie, threats of an orphanage"—well, says Crist, "If I were a collie, I'd sue."

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On weeks when we can, we'll match up two of the biggest rock shows of the era, NBC's The Midnight Special and the syndicated Don Kirshner's Rock Concert, and see who's better, who's best.

Kirshner: Harry Chapin, Tom Chapin, and Steve Chapin (all brothers) are joined by comic Gary Mule Deer and comedy group the New Untouchables. Music: "Taxi."

Special: Performances by R.E.O. Speedwagon, Little River Band, A Taste of Honey, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Climax Blues Band, and the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Highlights include "Keep Pushin" (Speedwagon), "Reminiscing" (Little River Band", "Boogie Oogie Oogie" (Honey).

I don't suppose you'd call the Chapin brothers a "group," but this is a week of groups nonetheless. And when it comes to groups, Special has the best of the offerings. If you don't believe, me, just check out this performance of "Time for Me to Fly" by Speedwagon, and "Boogie Oogie Oogie" by A Taste of Honey. If that doesn't convince you that Special wins the day, nothing will.

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What else is on this week? Well, we've already visited some of the biggest blockbusters of the week, those big-screen movies stretched over into two-part spectaculars, even if their increased running time doesn't justify their increased running time. However, hope remains.

Saturday sees the special one-hour sixth-season premiere of Good Times (8:00 p.m. ET, CBS), the first of a three-part story arc that features the return of Esther Rolle as Florida, the moral foundation of the series. To watch it, you'll have to pass up the second-season premiere of CHiPS (same time, NBC), which remains at an hour but offers up the tantalizing possibility that Jon and Ponch will leave the CHP for a future selling cars. Given that there's nothing in the promo material about the series changing its name, I think we can guess how this turns out. Brianne Leary joins the cast, and the special guest stars are a blast from the past, Troy Donahue and Kaye Stevens. Meanwhile, Captain Stubing finds himself marooned on a desert island after a three-hour cruise—that is, a two-hour season opener that includes the typical cast of stars, but really misses out on the opportunity for a Gilligan's Island reunion. 


We know all about Sunday, with part one of Lassie and part two of King Kong, but we've also got the three-hour premiere of Battlestar Galactica (8:00 p.m., ABC). I don't recall having watched this when it was on, although I could have: I was celebrating my second weekend in the Twin Cities after returning from exile in the World's Worst Town™. Amidst outer space and giant apes, though, there's another contender: the 30th Emmy Awards (8:30 p.m., CBS), hosted by Alan Alda; I know you're excited to find out the big winners, and so I won't keep you in suspense: All in the Family and the NBC miniseries Holocaust were the big winners, taking home six awards each, while The Rockford Files takes home the Best Drama award; however, the biggest award might go to the trio of Carter, Begin, and Sadat, who interrupted the broadcast for 30 minutes to announce the signing of the Camp David agreement.

Then as now, Mondays in the fall can mean only one thing, and that's Monday Night Football. For the season's third week, Frank, Howard and Dandy Don travel to Foxboro, Massachusetts, for the game between the Baltimore Colts, a bad team that used to be good, taking on the New England Patriots, a formerly bad team on the way to being good. (9:00 p.m., ABC) The Colts gallop to a 34-27 victory, but whether or not that's good is up to you. 

With Tuesday dominated by movies (Airport '77 on NBC, The Shootist on CBS), the burden for the night's variety falls on ABC. On Happy Days, a two-part story set in Colorado concludes with Fonzie entering a bull-riding contest to bail out a dude ranch. (8:00 p.m.) If Fonzie hadn't already jumped the shark, I suppose you could have said he's throwing the bull around; either way, it's a long way from the show's origins. Laverne & Shirley follows (8:30 p.m.), with a knock on the head turning Shirley into a stripper named Roxy. Happens all the time, in my experience. Janet and Chrissy take part in a liberation protest at a nude beach on Three's Company (9:00 p.m.); dare we suggest that they were—busted? On Taxi (9:30 p.m.), Tony gets a chance to match wits with a boxing champion, played by world welterweight champion Carlos Palomino. Does Tony get punchy over the encounter? And on Starsky & Hutch (10:00 p.m.), Starsky tries to track down Hutch before he succumbs to a deadly strain of botulism, a plot that leaves me wondering whether this is the most realistic storyline of the evening, or the least.
 
One of the tropes you can almost always count on at the beginning of a new season is the return of an old favorite to a show on which they were once a regular, and such is the case on Wednesday's Charlie's Angels (9:00 p.m., ABC), in which Farrah Fawcett-Majors reprises her role of Jill Munroe, who's somehow involved in trying to prevent the sabotage of a new racing car. We get a special guest star thrown in as part of the bargain, with former world driving champion Jackie Stewart appearing as himself. Call me crazy, but that's what makes this episode worth watching. We're also treated to the first of McLean Stevenson's two failed series this season, In the Beginning (8:30 p.m., CBS), in which he plays the stereotypical conservative priest confronted with a stereotypical liberal nun (Pricilla Lopez) for predictably stereotypical hijinks, which somehow manage to hang on for five, count 'em five, episodes.

Thursday opens with the seventh-season premiere of The Waltons (8:00 p.m., CBS), a special two-hour episode that works in a tribute to the memory of Will Geer (Grandpa), who died in April. It's also the opening of the seventh season for Barnaby Jones (10:00 p.m., CBS), as Buddy Ebsen tries to protect a murder witness targeted for extinction by the bad guys. Gretchen Corbett takes some time off from The Rockford Files to play the damsel in distress. And it's the second-season starter for Family (10:00 p.m., ABC), wtih Quinn Cummings, nominated for an Oscar for The Goodbye Girl, joining the cast.

It's the fourth-season opener for Donny & Marie (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC), which also introduces a new weekly disco segment. K.C. and the Sunshine Band help kick off the festivities, along with Olivia Newton-John and Bob Hope, who—I swear—never met a guest spot on a variety show that he didn't like. Still, it's preferable to the debut of The Waverly Wonders, the show which Larry Hagman passed up—remember?—in favor of Dallas. (8:00 p.m., NBC) In honor of Joe Namath's football background, the show airs for four episodes.

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Finally, in the TV Update, Sally Bedell reports that the Fred Silverman era at NBC may be getting off to a rocky start. Over the last two years, ABC, flush with ratings success, has mounted a concerted effort to win over CBS and NBC affiliates. It was popularly thought that these efforts would be on hold for the time being while the affiliates measured Silverman's impact on the Peacock Network. However, less than three months into his term, the network was rocked by the departure of Minneapolis-St. Paul station KSTP, which announced it would be moving to ABC after 30 years as an NBC affiliate. Despite Silverman's plea to give him six months to turn things around, KSTP's owner, Stanley E. Hubbard, was adamant: "ABC's long-range potential for continuing [its] leadership was the deciding factor. We feel ABC is the strongest management team in broadcasting today."

For KSTP, the move means being able to take advantage of a powerhouse primetime lineup from the nation's number one network; for ABC, it hopes to double the audience of its evening news program, thanks to KSTP's top-rated news programs. For other affiliates considering a change, a network source is quoted as saying, "There is no question that the move will have a psychological impact." Hubbard added that while he didn't doubt that NBC's ratings would go up under Silverman, he didn't think it would happen in six months. Guess again; Silverman never does turn things around at the number three network, and he himself will be gone by 1981, setting up his own successful production company.

Living in the Twin Cities at the time, I remember when all this went down. It was indeed a shock to see KSTP, one of the original NBC affiliates, make the switch, and the surprises didn't end there; it was widely expected that NBC would, in turn, go to KMSP, the now-spurned ABC affiliate, but no—they instead chose WTCN, one of the nation's leading independent stations, leaving KMSP as the odd station out. In the end, they turned out all right; after a successful independent run themselves, they're now a Fox affiliate, with all the rights and privileges included (read: NFL football). Yes, as Carroll O'Connor and Jean Stapleton would say, those were, indeed, the days. TV


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