This week in TV Guide: June 20, 1970

We're continually assaulted, if that's the right word, with controversy over violence on television. In 1968, on the heels of the King and Kennedy assassinations and the general level of discontent in the country, there had been a wave of revulsion over the perception that television programs were saturated with violence. The result, as we looked at here, was a sudden self-censoring of violent content, at least temporarily, along with a promise to be more responsible in the future. We're now just over two years since that spasmodic response, and the bill for nonviolent television is coming due.

As Joseph Finnigan reports, the stakes are high for television producers, who face losing "thousands of dollars in some cases because a show with too much violence—or even a show which somebody suspects has too much violence—simply doesn't get on the air." And it doesn't matter how big the stars, or how popular the shows. An unaired episode of Bonanza illustrates how ridiculous, in my opinion, it has gotten: the episode has remained in limbo for almost a year, at a cost of $200,000, because of a storyline involving star Michael Landon being attacked (and a prison guard killed) by "vicious prison dogs." "The action took place off-camera," Finnigan points out. "Not a single fang was bared. Still, it all proved too much for the network censors, who apparently never saw a Rin Tin Tin movie." The show's producer, Dick Collins, says the episode was nixed by Standards & Practices "because the dogs worried and bothered them."

To say the least, the crackdown has put a crimp in storytelling. Many producers look upon the restrictions as a form of "arbitrary censorship [that] is not only dishonest but debilitating to the medium." This isn't the first time we've read about such frustration, but even though the specific issues may have changed, the result is the same. An anonymous spokesman for Universal describes the effect: "The Virginian was hurt the past season by a lack of violence which was part of the life of those times. The problems that existed then were emotional, violent problems. In that period the problem was not how well you did your job, or what your boss thought of you, the problem was keeping alive. Today you have other things which support drama—international problems, dope, pollution." But, says Finnigan, "they won't help The Virginian tell his story."

One way around this is to appeal to the conscience of the character involved in committing the violent act. "Ray Burr's Ironside series had a classic example in an episode depicting a policewoman shooting a suspect and feeling remorse over her act." If you don't enjoy the violence, Finnigan observes, this seems to make it OK. Another tactic, especially useful with shoot-outs, is "to keep the camera rolling" on a scene until the shooting victim moves. "Later, if the censor objects to the dead body," the scene can be inserted in the cutting room to demonstrate he isn't dead after all. Writers can ramp up the complexity of the episode, using mystery and detective work to keep the drama going in lieu of a violent scene; and a censor for one of the networks talks of reading a script over and wondering, "Is there any other way to show that Joe Blow is a bad guy and John Blow is a good guy? Is there a nonviolent way to do it?" They even look at the music, to see if it "heightens the violent attitude of the story."

The networks have a good reason for this seemingly childish behavior, of course, and the reason is called Congress. "They're looking for anything that might make waves," leading into one of those "sex and violence" probes that senators like, when someone like John Pastore asks "What are you doing about all that violence?" The next time that happens, they just pull out the scoresheet saying how many murders they've eliminated, how many dog attacks they've prevented, how many sour notes they've nixed. A CBS spokesman says "the incidence of violence is reduced 50 per cent compared with two years ago." I wonder how long that attitude lasts.

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Cleveland Amory's off this week, probably readying his quill for a go at the new summer shows coming our way, but all is not lost, as we still have Judith Crist to look at the week in movies. She starts with Tobruk (Saturday, 9:00 p.m., NBC), a World War II story set in North Africa. Rock Hudson is the star, but Crist's praise is for George Peppard, "at his best" as the leader of German Jews fighting with the Allies; his performance is the movie's "prime distinction." The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (Friday, 9:00 p.m., CBS) is Tennessee Williams' "Soap-operatic survey of decadence," enlivened only by the luminous performance of Vivien Leigh, who provides "a credibility that neither Warren Beatty, as a foppish gigolo, nor Lotte Lenya, as a vile procuress, do much to sustain."

Patrick McGoohan, "another invariably good performer, gives a certain amount of class to Koroshi" (Monday, 8:30 p.m., ABC), a movie made up of the two color episodes of McGoohan's pre-Prisoner series Secret Agent, with McGoohan as the indefatigable John Drake. And in Libel (Thursday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), Dirk Bogarde is "at his invariably excellent" in a courtroom drama in which he plays three separate characters; it's helped "splendidly" by Robert Morley and Wilfrid Hyde-White as the two barristers. Unfortunately, there's nothing good about Rock-a-Bye Baby (Sunday, 9:00 p.m., ABC); "Not even his fans," says Crist of Jerry Lewis's minions "could flip for the tired slapstick buffoonery of this one. Last, and quite possibly least, is Did You Hear the One About the Traveling Saleslady? (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m., NBC). The verdict: "You don't have to hear it or even see it. You can smell it."

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Speaking of the summer: lots of reruns (and a farewell or two), combined with some of the new summer shows. Ray Stevens takes over for Andy Williams (Saturday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), and Andy's on-hand to hand over the keys. Cass Elliot and Lulu are regulars, and Tom Smothers, Jonathan Winters, Jo Anne Worley and Bill Dana are around for brief cameos. Don't worry; Andy's back this fall. G-E College Bowl (Sunday, 1:30 p.m., KYW) isn't, though: the series finale actually aired on the network last week, but it's just making it to Philadelphia today. In the final match, Old Dominion defeats last week's champion, Albright College, 300-100. Later on Sunday, an Ed Sullivan rerun (CBS, 8:00 p.m.) features impressionist David Frye; country music's Chet Atkins, Floyd Cramer, Bobby Goldsboro and Boots Randolph; Connie Stevens; comics George Carlin and Richard Pryor; Sam and Sammy, balancing act; and a production number from "Promises, Promises." That's followed by Glen Campbell at 9:00 p.m., who welcomes Tony Randall, Lulu (fresh from Ray Stevens' show), and Jerry Reed.

Monday's highlight is one of NBC's occasional broadcasts of Monday Night Baseball (8:00 p.m.), with the Baltimore Orioles in Boston to take on the Red Sox. And for those Jerry Lewis fans out there (among which I count myself), don't despair over that Judith Crist review; Jerry's hosting The Tonight Show all week ► (11:30 p.m., NBC). Tuesday's Red Skelton rerun is the CBS farewell for the redhead, as he goes to NBC for a final season in the fall; his guests tonight are Duke Ellington and his orchestra, and comedienne Pat Carroll. At 10:00 p.m., Anne Baxter stars on Marcus Welby, M.D. (ABC), while a CBS News Special looks at how businesses recruit on college campuses, where they often get hostile receptions from students accusing them of social irresponsibility. Country variety show reruns dominate Wednesday, with Hee Haw (7:30 p.m., CBS) featuring Charley Pride, Loretta Lynn and Jerry Lee Lewis, while Johnny Cash (9:00 p.m., ABC) counters with Merle Haggard, Brenda Lee, and—the very busy Charley Pride. And let's not forget Engelbert Humperdinck (10:00 p.m., ABC), with Lena Horne, Joel Grey, Tricia Noble, and "the rocking Vanity Fare."

Happy Days—no, not the one with Richie and The Fonz—premieres Thursday (8:00 p.m., CBS). The summer series is out to recall "the music and comedy of the '30s and '40s" with regulars including Louis Nye, Bob & Ray and Jack Burns; it opens big tonight, with guests Buddy Rich, Helen O'Connell, Bob Eberle, and Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. For more conventional fare, Tom Jones (9:00 p.m, ABC) welcomes Leslie Uggams, Joe Cocker and the Grease Band, and Guy Marks, while Dean Martin (10:00 p.m., NBC) has Phil Harris, Lou Rawls, Arte Johnson and Nancy Kwan. And we'll round out the week on Friday starting with The Name of the Game's venture into spy territory; reporter Darren McGavin investigate a report that a missile scientist thought to have defected to Cuba (James Whitmore) is actually in hiding to protect his life. A superior guest cast includes Strother Martin, Dane Clark and Jan Sterling. (8:30 p.m., NBC) Hogan's Heroes (8:30 p.m, CBS) gets its Bilko moment in a great episode involving a chimp, and classic TV fans will know what I mean.

Finally, since we're working with the Philadelphia edition this week, we'll take a moment with this ad for "The Big News" on WCAU, with legendary anchorman John Facenda, better known to those of us outside the area as the legendary voice of NFL Films. (It's always interesting to see the day jobs of our heroes.) Whether you recall the "frozen tundra of Lambeau Field" and "the Autumn Wind," or remember him simply as The Voice, there's been nobody like him on NFL Films since; I can only imagine how authoritative he must have been on the news. In fact, here's a great sound clip of him from 1958, and it's about what you'd expect.

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My interest in golf has waxed and waned over the years (up in the days of Arnie and Jack and anyone not named Woods; down in the days of the aforementioned Woods), but it first starts here, with ABC's telecast of the final two rounds of the U.S. Open (6:00 p.m. Saturday, 5:00 p.m. Sunday), live from Hazeltine National Golf Club in the Minneapolis suburb of Chaska, Minnesota. In these simpler days, it was rare when a sports event being played in the Twin Cities was available on television; home football games were always blacked out and the baseball and hockey teams televised about three home games per season, so it was a big deal when we could sit at home and watch something being played, as it were, in the neighborhood.

There had been major golf tournaments in the Twin Cities before; the great Bobby Jones won the 1930 U.S. Open here, and there used to be a regular PGA tournament in St. Paul, but this was probably the first major played here in the television era. And what a tournament it was, starting with the golf course. Through some influential lobbying, Hazeltine was awarded the Open even though it had only been built eight years before, and might not have been ready for the big time. It was constructed pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and the winds whipped around the former farm land, driving the players crazy. The best score after Thursday's opening round was a mere 71, one under par, and some players thought a final total of 300 (+12) would be good enough to win. In particular, one player emerged as the most vocal critic of the course: Dave Hill. Hill was fined $150 for saying the course lacked "about 80 acres of corn and four cows," and that he'd love to "plow it up." In our gentle Minnesota fashion, the galleries responded (in an era when golfers weren't heckled) by mooing at Hill all through the rest of the tournament.

◄ Tony Jacklin, the British Open champion who'd won us over early by saying that, as an Englishmen used to challenging conditions, he didn't have any problem at all with the course, was the only player under par after the first round. By Sunday's final round, he has a five-shot lead, and as he comes to the final hole, with the crowd cheering him on, he leads by six, then sinks a 30-foot birdie putt to finish at seven under par, the only player to break par for the tournament. Hill finishes in second place at even par, the closest he'll ever come to winning a major. Watching it all unfold on TV, I'm hooked.

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Finally, The Editors—Merrill Panitt, in other words—have an interesting idea. I'm using the plural, by the way, since the weekly editorial is called "As We See It," so I'm assuming Merrill is using the royal "we" here, though if anyone's entitled to speak on behalf of the staff of TV Guide, it's Merrill Panitt. Either that, or he's channeling Cleveland Amory. At any rate, they, or he, or whichever pronoun we want to use, are essentially advocating the creation of "Nick at Nite" about 25 years before the fact.

This all came about because of CBS's decision to air reruns of He & She, the critically-acclaimed but ratings-deficient sitcom from 1967 starring Richard Benjamin, Paula Prentiss and Jack Cassidy. on Friday nights over the summer. It's long been thought that He & She might have been just a little ahead of its time, and with this move CBS now signals its decision to join NBC and ABC in programming for the "right" demographic audience, in this case, young marrieds. Considering this predates the network's infamous rural purge by about a year, this seems about right. And if the move is successful, they wonder, what other series might be resurrected?

One such series is It's a Man's World, "a delightful story of some nonconformists living on a houseboat" starring Glenn Corbett, Michael Burns, Ted Bessell and Randy Boone. (A number of episodes exist on YouTube, so if you're interested, you can start with Episode One, here.) There's also George C. Scott's gritty East Side/West Side, which anticipated ghetto problems before they were a big deal; Roger Miller's 1966 TV series ("overproduced as well as before its time"); Bob & Ray's 1950s series ("flopped—some felt—because it was premature"); and My World and Welcome to It, which we might catch up to someday.

Two things you might have noticed about these shows: they were all, to one extent or another, "ahead of their time"; and many of them are available on YouTube, which says a lot about their enduring popularity, even if it's just a cult audience. I wonder if any other classic programs might have been saved if this idea had come to fruition sooner? The editorial concludes by noting that "Some of the best new ideas in programming may be old ideas whose time has come," to which I'd add only that other ideas, and programs, are timeless—if only we take the time to find them, and appreciate them. TV

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Around the dial

Let's begin today's roundup at Comfort TV, where David looks back at what he calls "specialty acts," the performers that were a fixture of variety shows and other specials: Foster Brooks, Shields & Yarnell, Super Dave, and more. Good times, those.

At Cult TV Blog, John brings down the curtain on The Omega Factor with the show's final episode: a resolution of the plot lines, the biggest questions, and some loose ends that never were wrapped up. John also assesses the series as a whole. As I've said, now on my watch list.

At last year's Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention, I had the pleasure of meeting the adorable Hayley Mills, who, with her sister Juliet, were the highlights of the show for us. I mention this only as an excuse to visit Classic Film & TV Cafe, where Rick reviews one of her early adult roles in The Family Way.

It's a pleasure when Terence gets to look back at the career of a celebrity who hasn't just passed on, and this week at A Shroud of Thoughts, he remembers Karen Valentine, who came to prominence on Room 222 and was a fixture on television shows throughout the years. America's sweetheart? Well, certainly a familiar face.

"Beverly Hills Assault" may sound like an average episode of one of those Real Housewives shows that pollute the airwaves (and our culture), but rest assured, it's only this week's episode of The A-Team that Roger review at The View from the Junkyard. Sadly, it doesn't get rid of any of those shows.

Finally, as you probably noticed (because I won't stop talking about it), my new novel, The Book of Revelations, was published this week. I know that many of you follow me because of the TV content, but if you're open to contemporary fiction and are wondering how you can help your humble scribe out, here are five easy suggestions:

1. Buy the book.

2. Read the book.

3. Review the book, at Amazon or elsewhere.

4. Tell a friend.

5. Subscribe to my newsletter. 

I can promise you that you won't regret it. And I know that "promise" is a big word, but The Book of Revelations is a big book. And for me, a big deal.

Thank you for your time! TV

If you enjoy the content here and want to support my broader creative work, please consider leaving a tip at my Ko-fi page. Any amount you contribute helps me continue writing, researching, and sharing these articles and projects. Thank you!

The day a book stops belonging to its author

Yesterday, The Book of Revelations was officially published. It stopped being a dream, and became a reality.

People often imagine publication as a finish line. In some ways, it is. Years of work, revisions, false starts, second thoughts, and moments of unexpected inspiration have led to this point. The manuscript is finished. The cover is complete. The decisions have all been made.

But publication is also the moment when a book stops belonging entirely to its author.

For a long time, Nan Jaffe existed only in my imagination. I knew her fears, her regrets, her hopes, and the things she carried with her through life. I knew where she had been and, eventually, where she was going. But beginning today, readers will bring their own experiences to her story. They will see things I never saw. They will respond to moments that surprised me, overlook moments I thought were important, and discover meanings that never consciously occurred to me while writing.

That is one of the great mysteries of storytelling.

A novel begins as something intensely personal. It is shaped by one person’s imagination, experiences, questions, and obsessions. Yet if it succeeds, even in a small way, it becomes something shared.

The Book of Revelations is a story about memory, identity, loss, forgiveness, and the possibility of redemption. It asks whether the things that happen to us must define us forever, and whether it is ever too late to become someone new.

I don’t know how readers will answer those questions.

Now, they get to decide for themselves.

And that, I think, is both the frightening and wonderful part of publication.

Thank you for being part of the journey. TV

If you enjoy the content here and want to support my broader creative work, please consider leaving a tip at my Ko-fi page. Any amount you contribute helps me continue writing, researching, and sharing these articles and projects. Thank you!

What's on TV? Friday, June 18, 1965

Wou know that summer is on the way when you see notices for programs like Vacation Playhouse, which will be filling in for Gomer Pyle starting next week. Reruns dominate the rest of the night, except for that special on gambling that I mentioned on Friday. But I think the Minnesota Twins game on WTCN looks very attractive, especially since this is the year the Twins go to the World Series. At least that's what I was probably watching, since this TV Guide is from the Twin Cities. Y

This week in TV Guide: June 12, 1965

WI suppose I was about five, the year this issue came out, that I received a book from my mother. It was an illustrated version of "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!", the hit song by comedian Allan Sherman. I loved both the song and the book, and for many years this was how I knew Sherman—this and the other novelty songs he did, many of which were pantomimed on the beloved Twin Cities children's show Lunch With Casey.

But I digress. As I say, it wasn't until much later that I found out Sherman was also a game-show empresario of sorts. As he describes this week in an excerpt from his autobiography, A Gift of Laughter (which might be worth tracking down some day), he and his partner, Howard Merrill, created the show I've Got a Secret, which they then sold to Goodson-Todman Productions for the princely sum of $1, with the proviso that if the show made it to air they would each receive a weekly royalty of $62.50, and Sherman was named Associate Producer, receiving an additional $125 a week. (A few years later, Sherman notes, Goodson-Todman sold I've Got a Secret to CBS for three million dollars.) 

Lest you think creating a game show concept is all fun and games, it was neither for Sherman; as he puts it, "After all those months of taking out the bugs, we had a regular insectarium on our hands." Sherman frankly admits that the first show was a disaster, and that the "secrets" that they created for celebrity guests were insipid. This came to a stop around the time that actor Monty Woolley's secret was disclosed to be that he slept with his beard under the covers. Asked by Henry Morgan whether this was really true, Woolley shouted, "Of course not, you bloody idiot. Some damn fool named Allan Sherman told me to say it." 

And then, there was the president of one of the sponsors, Prom Home Permanent, who kept meddling with the lineup of the panel. He was "violently" opposed to Laura Hobson, Nina Foch and Faye Emerson, because they all had straight hair. "His idea of the perfect panelist was Harpo Marx."

Sherman also tells of when Sir Edmund Hillary became the first man to reach the top of Mount Everest. Figuring he'd never have a better guest, he told his Production Assistant Adraia to get him on the phone." Where? she asked. "At the top of Mount Everest," he replied. "It had never occurred to me that there might not be a telephone booth at the top of Mount Everest." As it turned out, she was able to get through to the bottom of Mount Everest, where she was told Hillary was expected back in a month. "Too late!" Sherman shouted. Tell them we need him now!"

Frankly, I don't believe this story, or at least I suspect Sherman embellished it for effect, and that effect is very effective indeed. He goes on to share Mark Goodson's mania for memos (when Sherman complained that Goodson would "exhaust the world's supply of paper" if he didn't desist, Goodson replied by memo. Bill Todman wasn't any better; Sherman's request for a raise had to wait until Todman finished a call to Henry Ford to have a Lincoln Continental made to order; Todman then told Sherman that while he wouldn't give him a raise, he had something even better: a promotion from Associate Producer to Producer. 

Whether or not any of this actually happened doesn't really matter, though, because it's entertaining, and Allen Sherman is an entertainer. This book might be worth tracking down some day. In part two of this article, he promises to tell us of the day when he finally got a secretary, and he spent that weekend wondering if she'd be blonde, slinky, with a throaty voice and exotic perfumes. That is, until he got to the office on Monday and met his new secretary, Roger Peterson. 

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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:  Ed's live this week, with comedian Sid Caesar; comics Allen and Rossi; French pop singer Jean Paul Vignon; British rock 'n' roller Tom Jones; comic London Lee; singer Dee Dee Sharpe; the Seekers, folk singers; and the Wychwoods, an illusionist act which uses 14 trained poodles.

Palace:  We’re in the rerun zone at the Palace this week, with host Arthur Godfrey welcoming comedian Shelley Berman; songstress Dorothy Collins; singer John Gary; the comedy team of Gaylord and Holiday; Dwight Moore and His Mongrels; juggler Eva Vidos; and the Dalrays, comic acrobats.

Let's see: dog acts? Check. Comedians? Check. Comedy teams? Check. Singers? Check. Each show has ticked the boxes this week, which leaves us to look at the personalities.  Shelley Berman can be very funny, Dorothy Collins is easy on the eyes, and John Gary has a smooth voice. On the other hand, you have the Ceasar of comedians, and Tom Jones is still going strong! So it's not unusual for Sullivan to be the winner this week.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever we get the chance, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era. 

This week, Cleveland Amory is conducting what we might think of as something of a self-review, in which he takes a look back at some of his reviews of the past season about which, in his words, he's had "second thoughts" For, as he says, "One cannot re-review the past season without coming to grips—and possibly even stagehands—with the show which, ratings or no ratings, has become the biggest thing since Amos 'n' Andy." 

That show would be Peyton Place, and while Cleve was taken to task by many over his favorable review of the program, there's no question that everyone was talking about it. He still has one criticism, though: the pace. "The show has an irritating habit of making a federal case out of every conversation. At the wedding, for example: Rod: 'Your mother looks—beautiful.' Allison: 'You were going to say "happy," weren't you? Why didn't you, Rod?' Rod: 'Why didn't I say "happy"? Why didn't I, Allison? I don't know.' Etc, etc." And speaking of Allison, "If she can't get another emotion—or even another boy friend—would it be too much to ask for her to get another speed?"

Amory also offers praise for the best performances of the year: Jim Nabors and Frank Sutton were standouts on Gomer Pyle, as were Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick York on Bewitched. He also mentions a "splendid quartet" in serious drama: Richard Crenna (Slattery's People), David Janssen (The Fugitive), Vic Morrow (Combat!), and Robert Lansing (Twelve O'clock High).  

In late night, Amory's discouraged by the failure of ABC's Nightlife, which he calls a "monument to futility," which started out with Les Crane, and adds that "even when they did finally come up with the right man, Dave Garroway, they didn't seem to know it." And he laments the absence of new faces in the news, with the exception of ABC's Peter Jennings, and the lack of commentary on network news (specifically citing NBC, but it could apply to all three). However, let us not end on a down note. There were three bits of good news: the real possibility of a fourth commercial network, the growth of educational television, and the best news of all: CBS has a new president. James Aubrey is dead, long live James Aubrey.

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We're always looking for good, or interesting, programs during the summer rerun season, and we've got several this week.

Secret Agent is still in first-run on American television, and Saturday's episode is one of particular interest, especially for those who debate whether or not John Drake became Number Six. "Colony Three" (8:00 p.m., CBS) is, as one author put it, "a fascinating anticipation of The Prisoner." The premise: "Drake assumes a new identity and joins a group of defectors about to be transported to a training school for spies in Eastern Europe."

On Sunday, ABC presents the third installment in their Daring Americans series, "Assault on Le Mans" (6:30 p.m.), portraying American Grand Prix champion Phil Hill, one of the greatest racing drivers of the 1960s. Hill was the first American, and the only native-born one, to win the World Driving Championship. Now he's at the fabled Le Mans, a race he's won three times in the past. His teammate in the 24-hour race is Bruce McLaren, as they drive for the upstart American Ford team, taking on the legendary European powers, particularly Ferrari. Hill and McLaren don't win; as a matter of fact, they dropped out after 192 laps. But two years later, Ford would topple mighty Ferrari, the legendary Ford GT taking first, second and third. The documentary is done in cinéma vérité style by Robert Drew Associates, which famously did several similar documentaries on John F. Kennedy, including Primary.

As we move into reruns, Monday's Ben Casey (9:00 p.m., ABC) presents a story that, for all the complaints scriptwriters have about not being able to tell adult dramas, probably wouldn't have been told even five years ago. In "A Disease of the Heart Called Love," Shelley Winters plays a divorced, middle-aged nurse who becomes pregnant. She's also got a medical condition that makes her pregnancy dangerous. Casey and Zorba advise her to "terminate the pregnancy," but she wants to keep the baby. So this touches a number of buttons: unmarried mothers, abortion, the loneliness of the unmarried. They don't get much more adult than that. It's directed by Mark Rydell, and features Milt Kamen and, as Dr. Watson, James Doohan.

Tuesday features one of those how-many-times-has-this-happened-to-you moments on The Fugitive: (9:00 p.m., ABC): "When a philandering husband is found murdered, the chief suspect is his girl friend Lucey Russell. But Lucey has an alibi: she was with Kimble." I did a bit on this many years ago, where I looked at the typical tropes of typical series and wondered just how many times they actually happened to ordinary people. This one is a little better, though, in that you don't have to be relying on an escaped convicted murderer to provide your alibi; it could be someone cheating on their spouse, someone who called in sick to work, or any number of people who wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time doing something they shouldn't be doing. I think it's called karma.

I'm going off the primetime grid for Wednesday's choice: Stanley Kubrick's terrific noir The Killing (10:30 p.m., KMSP), with Sterling Hayden leading a gang planning a race-track robbery. The gang includes Vince Edwards, who was Ben Casey on Monday night; Elisha Cook, Jr. as a very nervous teller working for the gang on the inside; and Marie Windsor as the dame who does him wrong. Based on this movie, Kubrick and his producer, James Harris, got the chance to make a movie for MGM: Paths of Glory. That was a pretty fair movie, too.

Thursday's repeat episode of The Defenders is "Blacklisted" (9:00 p.m., CBS) with Jack Klugman starring as a formerly blacklisted actor whose comeback is being threatened by a "vigilante" group trying to get him fired. So we have Klugman, one of the most intense, scene-chewing actors around; we have McCarthyite villains in the "vigilantes" trying to prevent a decent man from earning a living; and we have The Defenders itself, one of the more strident, issues-oriented programs on the air.

In fact, the episode is quite good. Klugman is, for the most part, well within himself as a man who shows his regrets not by what he says or does, but by what he keeps inside him. Your opinion of the episode is going to be based in large part on your opinions of the blacklist, the Red Scare, and everything that's happened since.  The Defenders was one of the quality programs of the early 60s, a series that wasn't afraid to take on serious issues. Its flaw, and it was a major one, was when it stepped over the line into strident advocacy, as it increasingly did in later seasons. But decide for yourself—you can see it here.

On Friday night, ABC turns its attention to gambling in another amusing documentary, as host Terry-Thomas takes a humorous look at "the urge to gamble" in Everybody's Got a System. (7:30 p.m.) The show visits horse racing tracks in Europe, talks to bettors and bookies to learn about the sport's attraction, visits a bingo parlor to see how even small-scale gambling can thrill, and visits the casinos, where Thomas explains his own "system" at the roulette wheel. It seems lightweight, but a fun show, not unlike something you might see on History or A&E today.

Also on Friday, Jack Paar's in London for this week's rerun (9:00 p.m., NBC), with a stellar cast of his own: the legendary Judy Garland, the very witty Robert Morley, and the distinguished journalist Randolph Churchill, son of the late Winston. I've seen clips of this on one of the Paar compilation videos, and it's very funny—particularly this bit where a slightly tipsy Judy has some fun at Marlene Dietrich's expense:

Oh, and she can still sing a bit, too. What a sad, sad life she led.

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Fashion alert: it's time for another starlet to display the latest in haute fashion.  This time it's actress Janet Margolin, who will go on to a successful career with appearances in media as varied as Woody Allen movies, a Ghostbusters sequel, and episodes of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote.  But never mind that—her mission this week is to show off the newest craze, the Finnish Marimekko, made famous by Jackie Kennedy.

Janet Margolin died of cancer in 1993, not quite 30 years after this issue.

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James Arness is so big (besides being 6'7", that is), he even dominates this week's profile of Milburn Stone, who plays Doc on the long-running Gunsmoke. Stone remembers the first few years working with Arness, and he wasn't impressed: "He'd be late or wouldn't show up—never apologize. And once he was there he'd clown around." When Stone couldn't take it any longer, he lit into Arness at a rehearsal, telling him that he didn't belong in the business, and added that "I've read my contract and there's nothing in it that says I have to put diapers on you or wait for you. And if you ever show up late again, buddy, you'll have two things to explain—not only where you were, but where I went!" To Stone's surprise, Arness took the tongue-lashing like a man, telling him that "You're absolutely right." "From that moment on," Stone says, Arness changed, becoming the consummate profession we've read about in TV Guide. "I began to love that guy. He's a great big wonderful cub bear."

I watched Gunsmoke when I was a kid, primarily because my grandfather did, and although I wouldn't rank it as a favorite it was a memorable show nonetheless. The byplay between the main characters—Matt, Doc, Festus and Kitty, and the obvious chemistry between the actors playing them—is the glue that held the show together, and watching it in reruns today confirms the quality of the program.

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Finally, on this longer-than-usual entry, a brief mention of Edith Efron's profile of Gig Young. Young is an acclaimed stage and movie actor, and his career will end with three Oscar nominations (and one win) to his credit, but in this issue he's talking about his current series, The Rogues, in which he stars along with Charles Boyer and David Niven. I bring this up because this article, which I read some years ago now, was the first time I'd read about The Rogues, a series about a family of good-natured con artists making a living out of swindling people who deserve it. According to the reviews, there is a sense that The Rogues is too literate, too clever, for the average viewer who wants his television without having to think about it.

I first saw The Rogues a few years ago on MeTV, and I was absolutely charmed by it. It's a show that desperately deserves a commercial DVD release (although you can get copies if you know where to look); it's better than Leverage, more humorous than The A-Team, and not nearly as complicated as Mission: Impossible. And since it is a series, unlike The Sting, you get to see it every week. It should have run for more than one season, and if you ever get the chance you should give it a try. I will be surprised if my readers aren't as charmed by it as was I.

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