October 30, 2017

What's on TV: Monday, November 2, 1970

We're back in New York this week, but I thought I'd change things up a bit, so I've included the listings for WTIC in Hartford and WATR in New Haven. Not a big change, but it does give us a little more variety. So see if you can find any of your favorites!

October 28, 2017

This week in TV Guide: October 31, 1970

This is an election year, and Tuesday of this week is Election Day.* The off-year elections lack the drama and glamour of a presidential year, but besides containing some key races at the state and national level, it's the first test of the political parties since Richard Nixon was elected in 1968.

*If I were a lazy man, I'd use Tuesday for this week's listings, considering the election returns would wipe out most of the primetime lineup. I am lazy, but not that lazy. You'll have to wait until Monday to see what day I do use.

It may be hard to appreciate now, but back in the day the networks provided comprehensive coverage of the returns throughout the evening, from the conclusion of their evening news until midnight (and, in some cases, afterwards). For NBC, it's the first election since 1952 in which Chet Huntley will not be a part of the coverage. David Brinkley remains on the lead team however, along with Fran McGee, John Chancellor, Sander Vanocur and Edwin Newman. Local covearge begins at 6:00 p.m. ET, with network coverage kicking in at 7:00. Walter Cronkite is the man on CBS, joined by Mike Wallace, Roger Mudd, Dan Rather and Bill Stout, with author Theodore H. White (The Making of the President series) providing commentary. Like NBC, the Tiffany Network's coverage begins with the local news at 6:00 p.m. and continues following Cronkite's evening news at 7:00. Lone among the networks, ABC chooses to air an hour of regular primetime programming - The Mod Squad, for those of you scoring at home - before their "informal" coverage, led by Frank Reynolds and Howard K. Smith, begins at 8:30 p.m. Even the independents get into the act: WNEW, will interrupt their 11:30 movie with results, while WPIX and WNET start their coverage at 10:00 p.m,, continuing until the returns are conclusive.

And how did things go in 1970? Well, the Republicans may have the White House, but the Democrats control Congress, and after tonight, the results will be much the same. In the House, the Dems pick up 12 seats to stretch their majority to 255-180. In the Senate, the GOP has a net gain of two, but the Democrats retain a majority, 54-44, with one independent, and one member of the Conservative Party. That Conservative senator? It's James Buckley, brother of William F., who defeats both Democrat Richard Ottinger and Republican incumbent Charles Goodell.* Goodell isn't remembered much today for having been a United States Senator, but he might be better known as the father of the commissioner of the NFL, Roger Goodell.

*Appointed by Nelson Rockefeller to fill the unexpired term of the late Senator Robert F. Kennedy.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's 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 series of the era. 

People remember Don Knotts as Deputy Barney Fife in The Andy Griffith Show. They may remember him as Ralph Furley in Three's Company. They possibly remember him from movies like The Ghost and Mr. Chicken and The Reluctant Astronaut (seen in last week's TV Guide), movies that capitalized on his high-strung Fife persona. But they probably do not remember him as the star of his own variety show, The Don Knotts Show. That's not surprising, given that the show only lasted for 24 episodes; that the show only lasted one season is not surprising, given Cleveland Amory's assesment that "a lot of fans, watching Don go from second banana to top banana, are going to split - and not, unfortunately, their sides."

Make no mistake, Cleveland Amory is a fan of Don Knotts - he's funny and likable. That doesn't mean he should have his own show, though. In fact, the idea that he wasn't up to the job was, reports Amory, the running gag for the entire first episode. "All too soon, though, the gag was walking. For one thing, it was all too painfully true." In particular, a sketch in which Anthony Newley plays the floor manager brings the show to life for the first time, precisely because someone other than Knotts is in charge. The idea of Don trying to be a host was very funny; unfortunately, it wasn't supposed to be the joke.

Occasionally the odd bit works, but even then the show plays it to death by doing it over and over. Even worse, some of the least funny sketches are also the ones that tend to run the longest. It's too bad, Cleveland says, because there are a few recurring features that work - Bob Williams and his performing dog, for example - and when Knotts is called upon to do the comedy that falls into his wheelhouse, "Few comedians could have done [it] better or fuinnier." It's just a case of too litte, too infrequent. Don Knotts won five Emmys for his work on Andy Griffith; for his work here, he should give one back.

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On Saturday afternoon, ABC's Wide World of Sports brings us a landmark event, one with cultural as well as sporting implications: the return of Muhammad Ali.

It's been three-and-a-half years since Ali set foot in a boxing ring. At the time, he was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world, one of the most revered and reviled athletes in the world, the most colorful sports figure this side of Joe Namath. On March 15, 1967, he received his draft notice; seven days later, on March 22, he knocked out Zora Folley to retain his title. His conscientious objector status having already been rejected, on April 28 he refused induction, with the immortal line, “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Vietcong.” He was convicted of draft evasion on June 20 and sentenced to five years in prison, fined $10,000, and banned from boxing for three years. He was also stripped of the heavyweight title.

As his appeal worked its way through the courts (his conviction will ultimately be overturned by the Supreme Court in 1971), Ali remained out on bail and in the headlines, becoming an outspoken opponent of the war and speaking on college campuses throughout the country, and seeing his popularity rise as opposition to the war grew. Finally, in 1970, he won reinstatement of his license in Georgia. His return to the ring in Atlanta on October 26, against heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry, is the first step in his return to boxing prominence. He'll win that fight against Quarry as well as a fight in December against Oscar Bonavena, setting up on of the great title fights in history and one of the most heralded sporting events ever, against Joe Frazier in March 1971. But that, as we say, is another story.

Here's the broadcast of that historic Ali-Quarry fight, tape-delayed from October 26.

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"The whole concept is hogwash," television writer Harold Medford says of Mannix, the show for which he produces scripts on a regular basis. "A real private eye is a sleazy character who works divorce cases. Mythic or not, I rather like Joe Mannix, who is non-Mike Hammer. Physical, sure, but also a kind of gentleman, and not in the bogus sense of a Philo Vance or an Ellery Queen."

The appeal of Mannix has always been twofold: the concept, an anachronism straight out of the days of Marlowe, Spade and Hammer but updated to modern times; and the star, Mike Connors, a man who invests Mannix not only with his own likability but with a deep-seated humanity uncommon to the genre. “He really is everybody’s ombudsman; he’ll make it right,” writer Aben Kandel tells Dwight Whitney. “He deals with people problems. He says I’m going to do something worse than kill you; I’m going to understand you.” Kandel defends the contrived situations, the “dark alleys” that Mannix often finds himself going down,* as a necessary servant of the plot, saying, “[t]he dramatist picks out the moment.”

*And usually getting clunked over the head. If Joe Mannix actually sustained as many concussions as he seems to acquire every week, he'd make the plight of today's former football players look tame in comparison.

View-Master: When you know you've made it.
Whitney’s article looks at the six men who, by and large, are responsible for seeing to it that Joe Mannix has a new case to investigate each week. It’s an interesting look at the psychology of the scriptwriter, the money they make for each episode, and the process they go through in producing their scripts, but to me it’s far more interesting to look at how each of them view their central character. Cliff Gould, considered the Mannix specialist in "interpersonal relationships," prefers to "write people, not devices" but at the same time understands how television works: "[T]here's got to be a bomb someplace, and one way or another it's got to go off." He works around it by using a visual teaser to suggest the character-driven conflict that is his forte - for example, a rich kid's birthday party, one of those affairs that has everything one could ask for. "Camera draws back and we see the kid is alone except for a chauffer and two bodygards. Then I do a Poor Little Rich Kid in Jeopardy story."

And in this vein the conversations continue. You can see the point here - the realism in Mannix, such as it is, arises not from a gritty, torn-from-the-headlines approach, but through an understanding that the classic private eye drama, anachronistic though it may be, is something that the audience knows and likes, and that in Joe Mannix they have an archetypal hero who represents the victory of good over evil (Kandel, Whitney says, "is quite capable of seeing Joe Mannix as 'a Christ figure' "), regardless of whether or not what we see on the screen is, strictly speaking, plausible.

As Alison Herman points out in her astute analysis of why the CW series Riverdale attracts a loyal teen audience, "The show is so stylized, so clearly not aiming for verisimilitude that there’s no way it can be mistaken for pandering" - it "can’t ring as inauthentic because authenticity was never the goal." That, my friends, is the formula for a successful television show.

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Remember now, we're back in the days when people stayed home on Saturdays to watch TV, and when big-screen movies could still make an impression by being on TV. We're also in the pre-VCR days when you had to choose what you wanted to watch, and it's this triumverate that makes for interesting viewing on Saturday night. It starts at 9:00 p.m. ET with NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies presentation of The War Wagon, a revenge tale starring John Wayne as a wronged man looking to get even, with the help of gunman Kirk Douglas and Howard Keel, whom Judith Crist describes as "a snobbish Indian who thinks all other Indians are dumb Indians." It runs two hours, which means you run the risk of missing the first fifteen crucial minutes of Ingemar Bergman's "bleak allegory" The Seventh Seal (10:45, WOR), with Max von Sydow and Bengt Ekerot staging one of the most memorable chess matches ever. If that's a big too heavy for you, or if you want to keep with The Duke, you can watch him as he "helps Jimmy Stewart to Capitol Hill and Lee Marvin to Boot Hill" in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance at 11:30 on WABC. Hartford's WTIC ought to be mentioned as well; it's showing the Oscar winner On the Waterfront at 11:25, with Marlon Brando, and WNHC in New Haven has Bogart's breathrough hit The Desperate Hours, costarring Fredric March, at 11:30.

Sunday's news shows are all pointed toward Tuesday's election, so we can skip over that in favor of CBS's Camera Three with the intriguing title "The Metaphysics of Buster Keaton," (11:00 a.m.) discussed by film critic Andrew Sarris and curator Raymond Rohauer. It's rivalry week in the newly-merged NFL, at least judging by the televised games, beginning at 1:00 p.m. on CBS with the first-ever regular season meeting between the Giants and Jets. That's followed at 4:00 p.m. on NBC with two old AFL rivals, the Oakland Raiders and Kansas City Chiefs, meeting in K.C. And if you're interested in variety shows, I think you could do a lot worse than Glen Campbell, who welcomes Bob Newhart, singer Jackie DeShannnon, and special guests Johnny and June Carter Cash. (9:00 p.m, CBS) I rather like the electic Fanfare at 10:00 p.m. on WNET, which features British musical singer Georgia Brown singing the songs of Kurt Weill.

The inaugural season of Monday Night Football continues, with the Cincinnati Bengals taking on the Pittsburgh Steelers at the new Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh. (9:00 p.m., ABC) Carol Channing guests on Laugh-In (NBC, 8:00 p.m.), while Ricardo Montalban and Cass Elliott do Carol Burnett's show (10:00 p.m., CBS). We know that Tuesday night is dominated by election coverage, which means turining elsewhere for light entertainment. How about the brooding drama The Pawnbroker, starring Rod Steiger and Geralding Fitzgerald, at 8:00 p.m. on WOR?

Greer Garson makes her first television appearance on Wednesday, in an episode of The Men from Shiloh (nee The Virginian) at 7:30 p.m. on NBC. (No offense, but I suspect more people will remember her narration of The Little Drummer Boy two years earlier, in 1968.) By the way, that episode also features E.G. Marshall and James Whitmore - not a bad lineup. At 8:00 p.m., WOR's Million Dollar Movie features Mr. Roberts, which we talked about last week. And at 9:00 p.m., NBC presents an hour of highlights of the 1971 Ice Capades - you remember their ice show broadcasts in the past - hosted by David Janssen, with guest star Florence Henderson. Of course, whenever I think of ice-themed variety shows, I always think of David Janssen.*

*Yes, I know he hosted The Hollywood Palace once. Versatile guy.

Future husband-and-wife Robert Wagner and Jill St. John star in How I Spent My Summer Vacation, the Thursday afternoon matinee on WNBC (4:30 p.m.). Bewitched has part seven of a story taking place in Salem, Mass., which one would think is not a good place for Samantha to be. H.P. Lovecraft's story "The Shuttered Room" translates into CBS's Thursday movie (9:00 p.m.), starring Carol Lynley, Gig Young and Oliver Reed. Judith Crist calls this one "foolishness," a story messed up by sex and sadism.

Friday ends the week with a plethora of familiar shows: The Brady Bunch, Nanny and the Professor, The Partridge Family, That Girl, Love American Style and This is Tom Jones. They're all on ABC, and in a sense they represent a prototype of the shows that, later in the '70s, will lead the network to #1 in the ratings. Frankly, I think they'd all be at home in a lineup that includes Happy Days (which was, after all, spun off from Love American Style), Laverne & Shirley (spun off from Happy Days), Three's Company, The Love Boat and The Six Million Dollar Man, don't you think? As far as late-night goes, at midnight Merv Griffin (WCBS) welcomes Dr. David Reuben, author of (as TV Guide puts it) "Everything You've Always Wanted to Know . . .", Barbara Feldon and Comic Jerry Shane.

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I'm amused by TV Guide's reluctance to spell out the full title of Dr. Reuben's book, "Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex*unless it was abbreviated to save space. If the former, it's kind of  a wasted gesture, since the book appears in the add for Book-of-the-Month Club.* What else is a bestseller? Inside the Third Reich, Albert Speer's blockbuster memoir of life as Hitler's architect, William Shirer's The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, John Updike's Couples, the groundbreaking Ball Four by Jim Bouton, Down all the Days by Christy Brown (written with his left foot) and The Joy of Cooking by Irma Rombauer and Marion Becker.

*but were afraid to ask. Hey, the asterisk is right there in the title, folks. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance on this blog to actually use an asterisk for the right reason, and that's as good a note as any on which to end the week. TV  

October 27, 2017

Around the dial

Ah, the weekend is in sight. Unless, of course, you're reading this at a later date, in which case the weekend may be in full swing, or you might be looking forward to the next weekend. At any rate, whenever it is that you read this, I think you'll find something worthwhile.

This week David reviews the DVD set of the '70s TV series Petrocelli, with Barry Newman and Susan Howard, and asks whether it passes the crucial Comfort TV test: is this a series you'll watch once and forget, or does it have the all-important "re-watchability" factor? Inquiring minds want to know.

Joanna's latest foray into Christmas TV History takes us to the eerie pre-WWII cartoon "Peace on Earth," one of the more disturbing cartoons I've seen. It's a blunt look at war and its aftermath, and yet there's no question it's entirely appropriate for the season. If you haven't seen it before, she's got a link to it; it's not long, so take the time to watch it.

Television Obscurities visits the Nielsen Bottom 10 for the week of October 23-29, 1972. It's an interesting and surprising look at the least-popular shows of the week: Streets of San Francisco? Night Gallery? Dean Martin? A repeat of Yellow Submarine? Of course very few shows get to go out on top; there's almost always a fall in popularity. Still, some revered shows here.

It's another journey to the Hitchcock Project at bare-bones e-zine, where Jack takes us inside the first season episode "A Bullet for Baldwin," written by Eustace and Francis Cockrell. I'm always fascinated by these articles, where Jack takes us through the process from the original story as it was written, and winding up with the version that hits our screens. It's a far cry from the episode guides we usually see for other shows.

Want an example of how I watch television? Read Miles Surrey's article at The Ringer, "51 Questions about The Good Doctor." It's not the kind of series I'm ever likely to watch, but the point is that when I'm watching a show, I pick at it exactly the way Surrey does here. (Even some the shows I like!) It's why my wife watches her favorite programs while I'm at work. It also demonstrates that the really good series are ones that keep opportunities for you to think this way to a minimum.

Not a lot of links this week (c'mon!), but quality makes up for quantity!   TV  

October 25, 2017

The TV historian

The historian at work - but where's the television set?
I don't Google my own name very often; it strikes me as just a bit pretentious, as if I expect to find something about myself that I don't already know. It's also a bit embarrassing (at least to me) to see my name in print thanks to someone else - I don't even like to see myself on tape or listen to my voice on a recording, so the idea of reading what someone else thinks about me is a bit much.

Occasionally, I'll run across my name because of something I wrote, usually for this site. As I've noted before, for some reason I don't get pinged when someone links to one of my pieces, so I usually find out purely by accident and oftentimes long after the fact. If the person in question said something nice about me then I have to reply with an apology for not having acknowledged them sooner (while they probably were thinking I was a jerk for ignoring them), and more embarrassment ensues.

The point of all this is that apparently I'm now recognized on the internet as a television historian. And as we all know, if it's on the internet it has to be true.

Let me explain.

A couple of weeks ago I was looking up Sterling Hayden to check on some details for this piece. As is my wont, I wound up getting lost in one of those rabbit holes that led to the Wikipedia page for "United Nations television film series."* As you might recall, I wrote an article about this very thing for TV Party! a few years ago, so naturally I was interested in what this had to say that I might have missed in my earlier research. Now, in my opinion, next to reading about yourself, the most embarrassing thing that can happen to you is to read an article about a topic you're written about yourself. Suppose it's better than what I wrote? Suppose the author found out more information than I did, or - horror of horrors - contradicted me? Could I have been wrong? Did I make a fool out of myself? How will people take me seriously after this? If nothing else, this little exercise demonstrates how insecure writers can be; no wonder so many wind up in analysis. (Something I've been able to avoid so far, as long as the drugs keep working.)

*In case you're interested, the trail was "Sterling Hayden/Carol for Another Christmas/United Nations television film series"

Anyway, the entry was pretty good: comprehensive, well-written, and - as far as I could tell - no contradictions! The only regret I had was that there was a lot more information that what I'd included, but then greatness is often built on the shoulders of giants. And then, right near the end, I came to it. Under the section "Other films associated with the series," the first paragraph starts off, "According to TV historian Mitchell Hadley. . ."

Well! If that don't beat all! I might as well hang it up, now that I've been recognized by no less an authority than Wikipedia as a TV historian! (You can see it for yourself right here.) In fact, what had been written, according to me, was something I didn't even remember. If you were interviewing me today and you asked me about it, I wouldn't have had a clue. Oh, there was no doubt I'd written it, and when I went back and reread my own article at TV Party!, it all came back to me. It's just that it was so long ago, and of all the things that I've written, I found it curious to be identified as a TV historian for something so obscure I'd forgotten all about it. But, then, perhaps that's what a TV historian does.

In fact, my article was cited several times as a source for the Wikipedia entry, which actually didn't surprise me; I've been listed as a source before, partly because I do tend to write about obscure things that nobody else cares about. Besides, my UN article was one of only three sources that weren't contemporary to when the original telefilms ran, and the other two were merely providing background, so if you're going to rely on the word of a historian writing about this in retrospect, it's pretty much me or nothing.

Still, there's no denying that it's a bit of an ego boost to see oneself identified as a "TV historian" by someone I don't know (and I promise I didn't write it myself). For a minute it even made me think that I'd arrived, that the thousand pieces I'd written for this webpage over the last six years had finally been justified. As Mary Tyler Moore might have said, "You're gonna make it after all!"

And then, of course, someone in the comments section of the blog pointed out I'd misspelled a word in one of those thousand pieces. I was glad of it, glad that I had to go back and correct something I'd written. I hope you keep doing that to me, to keep me honest whenever you see something that doesn't look quite right. Here at "It's About TV," we strive for 100% accuracy, which is a good way to achieve and maintain credibility. Being reminded that you're not perfect keeps you humble.

Besides, if I was perfect, wouldn't that be just too much?   TV  

October 23, 2017

What's on TV? Wednesday, October 23, 1963

Back in the Twin Cities this week, and I'm struck by how ordinary a week it is. Look at tonight, for example - CBS has The Beverly Hillbillies, the top-rated show on television, followed by The Dick Van Dyke Show, which ends the season as #3, and The Danny Kaye Show, which comes in at #30. Meanwhile, NBC has The Virginian at #17, while on ABC, The Patty Duke Show is #18. Clearly people enjoyed watching television on Wednesday nights. Let's see the rest of the schedule.

October 21, 2017

This week in TV Guide: October 19, 1963

I wasn't planning on doing this issue when I opened the laptop today, to be honest. I have a list showing what issue is scheduled for each week, of course; it runs through the end of 2018 (with a few weeks in 2019 already spoken for as well), and because I've taken care of it well in advance, the revelation of each week's issue always comes as something of a surprise to me. This morning I consulted the list, ready to open the box and dig out the appropriate issue: October 25, 1986. And it's been a long week and I'm tired, and suddenly the thought of plowing through an issue from the late '80s had no appeal to me, no matter what might have been inside it. (And with Kim Novak on the cover, I'm sure it would have been quite satisfactory.) Quickly I scanned down to the lineup for 2018, wondering if that issue would be any easier to get into - this is the result. Did I choose wisely? I think so, but ultimately you're the judge. It'll make next year that much more interesting, anyway.

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I like that cover portrait of Judy Garland by René Bouché; it manages to cut through the wear and tear that has left her looking at least 20 years older than her actual age of 41, and offers a glimpse of the frightened little girl inside that woman, the one who thrilled us skipping down the Yellow Brick Road and putting on a show with Mickey and meeting us in St. Louis. The sketch doesn't pretend that those ensuing years haven't happened; it's like being caught just right by the rays of the the setting sun on an autumn afternoon that reveal the promise and the hope and the vulnerability of a woman who's lived a train wreck of a life. You've heard how artists can capture details that a photograph can't? This right here is an example.

There's no question about Garland's talent, never has been. The idea of a Judy Garland television series is an irrestible one, particularly for the admirers that refer to her as "a living legend." A special on G.E. Theater last year was a smash, leading to her new Sunday night series, one in which CBS is investing at leats $140,000 a week - for the priviledge of going up against television's number-one show, Bonanza. This for a woman who, as Dwight Whitney writes, is "in an almost constant state of emotional turmoil; that, as a result, her career as a movie superstar had been cut short because the studios deemed her undependable (which she denies); and that she had suffered several breakdowns." In typical Garland fashion, however, she wins over the skeptical affiliates at their annual meeting, poking fun at her own reputation by singing Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen's lyrics, "Call me unreliable,/Call me irresponsible,/Call me unpredictable, toooooo. . ."

We know how the Garland story ends, and it's not a happy one, and though that ending is still six years away at the time of this article, I don't know that anyone back then would have been surprised by it; the chaos surrounding the show mirrors, in a way, the turmoil of Garland's life. The idea of taking the chance on Garland originates with James Aubrey, the mercurial president of CBS. He chooses a production crew headed up by George Schlatter, who will wind up as executive producer of Laugh-In, and employs a talented group of writers. Together the team works effectively with Garland, producing "big, brassy, weekly specials" with big songs, big numbers - shows designed to take advantage of Superstar Judy. "Everyone, including the sponsors, was delighted. Most remarkable of all, Judy had put a saddle on her jumping nervs and seemed relaxed and happy."

And then Aubrey intervenes. After five successful shows, he dismisses Schlatter and the rest of the crew, hiring Norman Jewison as the new producer and telling him that he wanted a show similar to Garry Moore's, "as folksy and old-shoeish as the Cartwrights - or maybe Ed Sullivan - so much so that he was willing to rock the boat to achieve it." Says John Bradford, one of the writers who was dismissed, "Judy is not the girl next door. She is explosive, dynamic, electric, one of the few superstars left. To try to patter her appeal after a Western is absurd." One cynic looks at the confusion wrought by the network and comments, "They are just thankful to get her there to do a show every week. They don't care what else happens"

A look at a rehearsal underlines the change in atmosphere. Judy stands by the piano, on which sits "a brown bottle of Liebfraumilch, the light white wine which is a favorite of hers. Beside the bottle is a tumbler with three ice cubes." She stars singing a song, gets a fit of the giggles. Starts again, giggles. "Jewison looks anxious. Judy tells a funny story. More laughter - nervous laughter - from co-workers."

"One comes away," writes Whitney, "with a deep feeling of sadness. Which si strange bedcause chances are Judy Garland will run true to her old form, score a dramatic last-ditch triumph over adversity - doesn't she always? - and once again be inundated in superlatives and love." How many people loved Judy Garland - or did they just use her? Her series ends after a single season, a failure that's said to be crushing to her. Six years later, not yet 50 years old, she's dead. Just like that, and yet it is a long time coming.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's 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 series of the era. 

Arrest and Trial has been considered in many respects the precusor to Law & Order, but with a crucial difference. The first half of the 90 minute series deals with the investigation and arrest, led by detective Ben Gazarra. However, we see the trial from the point of view not of the prosecutor, but of defense attorney Chuck Connors, who's determined to win an acquittal, or at least a fair shake, for his client. "Unfortunately," as Cleveland Amory writes this week, "the series has been more trying than arresting."

One of the challenges in a series set up in the manner of Arrest and Trial is that every week, one of our heroes is bound to be wrong; either the police have arrested the wrong person, or the attorney is defending a guilty person. The way in which the program tries to deal with this inherent contradition, says Amory, is the problem: the bad guys are "by no means all bad." In one typical instance, man charged with vehicular homicide in the death of a motorcycle policeman undergoes heavy psychiatric treatment, after which he is sentenced to 18 months in what we'd refer to today as a tennis prison. Says his girlfriend, in a demonstration of how there are no "bad" people, just people who need help, "he always boasted to me that he never said 'thanks' to any man. Not once in all his life. . . Today he actually said it. That's a good sign, isn't it?" Replies Amory, "Actually, it was an excellent sign, becaue, among other things, it was the last line of the show."

You get the picture. Amory singles out Connors in particular for praise, but his final verdict? "As in so many series this season, the acting is so far above the scripts that it hardly seemed worth it."

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In his book Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam uses the sport (and it is a sport) as a symbol of the significant social changes America has undergone over the past six or so decades; whereas we once bowled together in leagues, we now bowl alone.* I think it says a lot about these times that the most prevalent sport on television this week is bowling; there are three bowling programs just on Sunday. WCCO's venerable Bowlerama airs at 12:15; the program, featuring local bowlers, visits a different location each week, with today's broadcast coming from Maplewood Bowl in St. Paul (which, sadly, closed in 2013). At 4:30 p.m. it's the long-running Championship Bowling on WTCN (don't know what episode it is, but you can see an example of a show from 1963 here), and at 10:30 p.m, following the late local news, WCCO is back with All Star Bowling, live from Minnehaha Lanes in St. Paul.

*I suppose nowadays there's an app you can use to bowl in a league without ever having to, you know, come in actual contact with anyone.

Minnehana Lanes closes in 2008, which is a shame. I know that neighborhood well; used to drive by all the time on the way to church. More of that shopping area is scheduled to be torn down to make way for a redevelopment that includes the new soccer stadium for Minnesota United FC. If you'd told someone back in 1963 that bowling would be a niche sport but that soccer would be big time, that person would probably have looked at you as if you were crazy. Next thing you know, they'll be talking about phones with pictures in them so you can see who you're talking to.

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Robert Drew is considered one of the pioneers - perhaps the father - of the American cinéma vérité (or Direct Cinema) movement. He famously said that his type of documentary would be "a theater without actors; it would be plays without playwrights; it would be reporting without summary and opinion; it would be the ability to look in on people’s lives at crucial times from which you could deduce certain things and see a kind of truth that can only be gotten from personal experience."

Drew's mainstream breakthrough came in 1960 with the documentary Primary, an in-depth look at the Wisconsin primary contest between John F. Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey, in which he was allowed extraordinary access to the candidates and their campaigns. The success of Primary led to a close working relationship between Drew and Kennedy, as evidenced in Drew's follow-up, the 1961 ABC Close-Up! episode "Adventures on the New Frontier," taking his cameras and microphones into the Oval Office to show us the day-by-day life of Kennedy's White House. Kennedy had been concerned about his ability to conduct business while cameras and microphones hovered over his shoulder, but, as with Primary, he became inured to their presence, to the point that his advisors frequently had to remind him to be careful what he said while they were around.

Drew considered this a warm-up for an even more extensive documentary, one that depicted the the presidential decision-making process as a crisis unfolds. The result, Crisis - Behind a Presidential Commitment. airs on Monday at 6:30 p.m. It's the story of the showdown between Kennedy and George Wallace over the integration of the University of Alabama. Drew's cameras are not only in the White House, where Kennedy discusses the situation with his brother Robert and other advisors, but in Tuscaloosa, where the Alabama governor vows to fulfill his pledge to block any attempt to integrate the university.

Crisis is a masterpiece of the Direct Cinema movement, a dramatic demonstration for anyone who thinks The War Room invented the genre. There is one final collaboration to come between Drew and Kennedy, though the latter's participation is hauntingly tangental. It is the 1964 film Faces of November; its 11 minutes, without dialogue or narrative, cover the three days of JFK's funeral.

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Not exactly a starlet this week, but a fashion layout with actress Susan Strasberg, daughter of the legendary Method teacher Lee Strasberg. (I wonder what her motivation was?) It's a very sleek, elegant look by Anne Klein, with the casual outfit by Jax - both names that you've probably seen in the closing credits, as in "Miss Albright's wardrobe by Jax." A timeless style, don't you think?


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What else is on this week? Well, Hallmark Hall of Fame has a Sunday afternoon spot (5:00 p.m. CT, NBC), airing a repeat of 1960's "The Tempest" with what's literally an all-star cast: Maurice Evans, Richard Burton, Lee Remick, Roddy McDowall and Tom Poston. Brilliant. Also on Sunday, the debut on WTCN of a program called Tele-Bingo. Here's the write-up: "To become eligible to play, viewers must get a free Tele-Bingo card from a local supermarket. If a viewer scores a bingo, he must take his card to the store, which will then give him a prize and add his card to those of other home winners. From this group, 300 cards are drawn and those persons are invited to join the studio audience to compete for bigger prizes." I remember those shows - not that one specificaly, but shows like it. Interactive TV at its best!

On Monday at 9:00 p.m., ABC's psychiatrist drama Breaking Point airs the episode "The Bull Roarer," directed by Ralph Senensky. The story concerns a construction worker (Lou Antonio) who watches his brother (Ralph Meeker) savagely beat up a man who'd been hassling them. He's so shocked by the violence - the outpouring of testosterone, so to speak - that, as the listing puts it, "he begins to have doubts about his own virility." In fact, as Dr. Thompson (Paul Richards) intuits, the young man worries that his lack of machismo might mean he's gay. Writes Senensky, "I am 99 and 44/100 percent sure that was the first time the word 'homosexual' was uttered in a drama in an American television show."

Johnny Carson is the special guest on Tuesday's episode of The Jack Benny Program (CBS, 8:30 p.m.) - "Jack says that Johnny should become more versatile, so Johnny struts his stuff, performing cards tricks, ventriloquism, a drum solo and a song-and-dance." I'll bet acting with Benny was a thrill for Johnny. On Wednesday's episode of NBC's psychiatric drama, The Eleventh Hour (9:00 p.m.), Robert Wagner plays man who "always got by handsomely on his exceptional looks" - until half of his face is destroyed by a fire. Diahann Carroll, Shirley Knight and Michael Constantine co-star.

Thursday features the aforementioned Susan Strasberg as Dr. Kildare's patient (NBC, 7:30 p.m.), and Andrew Prine as her husband, an ambitious and irresponsible intern. Kraft Suspense Theatre (NBC, 9:00 p.m.) has a terrific cast - Gig Young, Nina Foch, Katherine Crawford and Peter Lorre - in "The End of the World, Baby," which doesn't deal with nuclear war at all but a shady sculptor (Young) who may be trying to bilk an older woman (Foch). And if you're not inclined to change channels, The Tonight Show has a pretty fair show, with Robert Preston, Benny Goodman and Abbe Lane.

Friday, the best night of the week, starts with Bob Hope's latest special (NBC, 7:30 p.m.) - his guests are Andy Griffith, Martha Raye, Jane Russell, Connie Haines, Beryl Davis, and L.A. Dodgers Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and Tommy Davis. The night ends with an interesting movie on KMSP's 10:30 p.m. "Masterpiece Theatre" (not to be confused with the future PBS series): Mr. Roberts, with Henry Fonda, James Cagney, Jack Lemmon and William Powell. It's one of the few times I've seen a locally broadcast movie get the full close-up treatment - almost makes me wonder if it had originally been shown on ABC but pre-empted by KMSP for something else.

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On Friday night ABC airs a documentary with the deceptive title The World's Girls. While it might sound like one of Frankie and Annette's beach party movies, it is in fact a penetrating glimpse into the future: the women behind the new feminist movement.

The question on the table is simple: what is the role of the modern woman in today's fast-changing world? Answers come from all over - from actresses and housewives, intellectuals in the colleges and beauties in their salons. The names that jump out, though, are ones that point in one direction. There's Betty Friedan, for example, who earlier in the year published The Feminine Mystique, and Simone de Beauvoir, author of The Second Sex, considered the foundation of feminist theory. French actress Simone Signoret, who rejected the feminist label but fought alongside radical feminist groups for the rights to abortion and birth control.

I don't know how seriously these women and their theories are taken at the time of the broadcast, nor what its overall tone is; after all, Playboy bunnies and expectant brides are among those being interviewed, so viewers are likely to get all kinds of viewpoints. Nonetheless, this strikes me as a chance for a profound look into the future - a brave new world, perhaps? In one month John F. Kennedy will be asassinated, and, so we are told, everything will change going forward. All the accepted truths, the universal values, the traditional definitions upon which the structures of society have been built, will be up for grabs. I cannot imagine a more perfect time for this show (produced and directed by Arthur Holch and narrated by John Secondari) to have aired; I doubt it could have been done in the late '50s, and by the late '60s it would have been old hat. But those who watch it in 1963 are looking through a glass darkly, and then they will see the future face to face. TV  

October 20, 2017

Around the dial

Some interesting food for thought this week - at least I thought it was interesting, but as always YMMV.

In his article about the current series Mozart in the Jungle, Brian Phillips at The Ringer makes the comment that "TV shows at this moment are so often interested in participating in a larger cultural discourse," something that has frustrated me no end. Yes, it's true that my interest in classic television extends to what it says about the culture at the time it was made, but that is as often due to its inadvertent role as a time capsule, and our retroactive analysis of what it all meant. Phillips looks at a specific episode of Girls, for example, "the way it plugged into an existing conversation about male power and the nature of consent."

This is a good segue to David's recent piece at Comfort TV, in which he looks back at the Brady Bunch episode in which Marcia tries to join an organization that's a thinly-disguised version of the Boy Scouts. You might be reminded of that episode in light of the news (old news, now - must be at least a couple of weeks ago) that the Boy Scouts will now accept girls. David's point - one which he's made in the past, and quite well - is that "classic TV – even those series that are deemed the most simplistic by our ‘sophisticated’ modern standards, can do more than just provide 30 or 60 minutes of entertaining diversion. They teach us something about the times in which they were made – and might even teach us something about the times we live in now." The Brady Bunch does that in this episode; Marcia isn't trying to make some sort of grand political statement, not really. She just wants to prove that "women should have the same opportunities if they have the requisite skills." Nowadays, says David, the same episode might be interpreted to mean "that everyone should be allowed to do everything on their terms, regardless of any preexisting criterion." A bit of a difference there, don't you think? The point is that sometimes (most times?) you can make your point without turning your program into some kind of grand political manifesto. Just let the action develop organically - it will do the rest.

Elsewhere, at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear Ivan reviews Where's My Fortune Cookie?, Phil Proctor's autobiography, in which we learn what it was like being a part of the great Firesign Theatre group. Having mentioned Bob Cummings a time or two, I was particularly amused by Phil's recollection of working with Cummings in the theater. I won't spoil that for you - go over there and read the whole thing.

At Made for TV Mayhem, Amanda interviews Lisa Holmes from Music Box Films/Doppleganger Releasing, regarding the release of made-for-TV movies on Blu-Ray, including Summer of Fear, with Lee Purcell and Linda Blair. Amanda's so right - the telefilm is a genre that continues to be interesting; for the many bad ones that may have come along, it's clear that the filmmakers were really trying to do something with this type of movie.

If you like The Twilight Zone, you're in luck, as The Twilight Zone Vortex's Jordan gives us a list of the best TZ podcasts. It can be hard knowing where to start with all the casts out there; getting a roadmap from someone who knows what he's talking about helps.

Speaking of both Amanda and podcasts, you won't want to miss this week's Eventually Supertrain, in which she and Dan discuss two late-'80s slasher movies, Iced and Moonstalker. (Nice segue, don't you think? I'm full of them this week.)

At Cult TV Blog, John brings up the British children's show The Feathered Serpent as a jumping-off point for a discussion of children's TV in general, and how it works (or doesn't work) as a means of imparting knowledge on its young viewers.

I really like Jodie's entry at Garroway at Large this week, not just because of its discussion of Dave's Wide Wide World program, but because it reminds us of what a wonder television was in the beginning, and how we could still be wowed by this big, wonderful world and the technology that brought it to us.

Terry Teachout taps into the wonderful Archive of American Television for this interview with composer Fred Steiner, who talks about composing the immortal theme to Perry Mason.

If you have any others we should know about, let me know. Otherwise, back tomorrow with some more fun. Right? Right!   TV  

October 16, 2017

What's on TV: Tuesday, October 15, 1968

We're back in New York City this week, and if you can make it there you can make it anywhere, right? It's a good enough day of television, including the Olympics. Let's just cut to the chase and get to it.

October 14, 2017

This week in TV Guide: October 12, 1968

The Summer Olympics begin in Mexico City this week, the first time the Summer Games have been held in North America in the television era, and while it's still a big sports story, it hardly dominates the landscape the way it does today. ABC has the Summer Games for the first time; with the lack of a significant time difference, the network is showing a record 43¾ of coverage (for which they paid a tidy $4,500,000). And yet, a contemporary observer might be forgiven for looking over the first week's schedule and wondering what all the fuss is about.

In 1968 the Opening Ceremonies were still held on Saturday afternoon (rather than Friday night, as is the case today), and ABC has live coverage from 1:00-3:00 p.m. ET. That's it for Saturday, though - ABC follows the ceremonies with a truncated edition of Wide World of Sports showing highlights from last month's 24 Hours of LeMans, followed by the college football game of the week between Penn State and UCLA. Sunday is even quieter, with the sole broadcast coming between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m.

There's no set schedule during the week except for an hour each afternoon between 1:00 and 2:00 p.m. Monday's prime time coverage is split between a half hour from 7:00-7:30 p.m and an hour from 10:00 to 11:00 p.m. Tuesday the evening broadcast is 7:00 - 8:30 p.m., Wednesday's consists of two separate half hours (7:00-7:30 p.m. and 8:30-9:00 p.m.), Thursday is 7:00-7:30 p.m. and 9:30-11:00 p.m., and Friday rounds out the week with 7:00-8:30 p.m. and an additional half hour from 11:30 to midnight. That adds up to 16 hours for the week. In case you're wondering, for last year's Summer Olympics, NBC - between the network, multiple cable stations, and streaming platforms - provided 6,755 hours of coverage, for which priviledge they paid $1.23 billion. For that, one wonders if the coverage is that much better today.

In his article previewing the games, former Olympic great Jesse Owens (or his ghostwriter) makes some prescient comments about the potential for political disruption, "which all sports fans who love the Olympics and its traditions are sure will be dissolved by the good sense and loyalty of many of the athletes themselves." He's referring to "the expressions of discontent which some black American athletes have voiced over representing in international competition a nation they claim has failed to give them equal opportunity - in education, housing and jobs - with their whilte colleagues." Owens, who has been Uncle Tommed by many of the younger black athletes for his lack of public involvement in the civil rights struggle, points to the many accomplishments by black American athletes amid the racial strife engulfing the country, and says, "I'm not in favor of cutting off the one area of understanding we have." Concludes Owens, "I don't think the pride which our black athletes have in themselves and their country will allow them to do anything to embarrass the United Staes in so conspicuous a world arena."

Owens may have done well in assessing American changes elsewhere in the article, but here he's dead wrong; few who saw it will forget the black power salute given by Tommie Smith and John Carlos on the podium following the 200 meter finals. It remains one of the most controversial non-athletic moments in Olympic history; as a result of their actions Smith and Carlos are expelled from the U.S. Olympic team, their actions labeled "a deliberate and violent breach of the fundamental principles of the Olympic spirit." Memorably, Time commented that while "Faster, Higher, Stronger" was the motto of the Olympics, "'Angrier, nastier, uglier' better describes the scene in Mexico City last week." Had Twitter existed in 1968, one can only imagine how this issue might have exploded, how the recriminations might have flown.

History has been kinder to the two, though; among other things, statues have been erected, awards have been presented, and perhaps most of all, precidence has been established. It is impossible to look back at it now and not think of what's going on today, how sports has again been turned into a political vehicle. The Olympics always have been that way, of course, but up until 1968 it seems as if the controversy surrounded the actions of nations, not individuals. Jesse Owens himself was seen as defusing Hitler's attempts to politicize the Games; now, as the television era expands the power and importance of the individual, it is the athlete who has the platform.

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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: Tentatively scheduled are Pearl Bailey; comedians Bill Dana and Richard Pryor; singers Gilbert Becaud and the Beach Boys; St. Louis Cardinals pitching star Bob Gibson, who plays the ukulele; Detroit Tigers pitcher Denny McLain, who plays the organ; and the Muppets. Ed also visits the set of the upcoming musical My Fair Lady, starring Peter O'Toole and Petula Clark.

Palace: Host Milton Berle welcomes Leonard Nimoy; singer Shani Wallis; the rocking Checkmates, Ltd.; Johnny Puelo's comic Harmonica Gang; Milton's comedy foil Sidney Shpritzer (Irving Benson); and the Bottoms-Up Revue from Las Vegas.

I've remarked in the past that whenever Berle hosts Palace, the show seems even more oriented toward a vaudeville style that's a generation out of date. It doesn't necessarily mean the show isn't good, just that it can produce a feeling of déjà vu. Ed doesn't have the greatest cast this week; Bob Gibson and Denny McLain owe their apperances to their teams having been in the World Series, which ended last week (I wonder how awkward this bit was?), and to paraphrase Bette Midler, I never miss a Peter O'Toole musical. Nevertheless, Pearl Bailey, Bill Dana, and the Beach Boys are easily enough to give Ed the victory.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's 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 series of the era. 

When last we visited with Cleveland Amory, he was giving a rather lukewarm review to the single-parent series The Courtship of Eddie's Father. This week we visit another single-parent family, with an even bigger gimmick than Eddie's Father had. The show is Julia, starring Diahann Carroll, and if you liked what Cleve had to say about Eddie's Father, you'll love his review of Julia.

It's true that Julia does break the color barrier, offering us one of the first female leads playing something other than a maid. However, writes Amory, "it is so self-conscious about doing so that a good part of the time Julia will give you a fast pain. And without providing fast, fast relief - the pace is so slow that there are times when you are going to be convinced that the show has stopped entirely." Carroll, as a registered nurse looking for work after her husband is killed in Vietnam, "is amazingly convincing even when she's wearing $5000 worth of clothes and hasn't yet got a job." Lloyd Nolan, as the doctor who employers her and becomes her staunch ally and friend, makes the series come to life and delivers its most famous line: "Have you always been a Negro - or are you just trying to be fashionable?"

So where does Julia fall short? Some of it has to do with Marc Copage, who as Julia's six-year-old son Corey, is, as Amory puts it, "a curious combination of Machiavellian schemer, elder statesman and pain in the neck, and is forced down your throat in great sirupy gobs." Says Amory, he "could be a large charmer in small doses." The show itself is "strictly soap opera," with the smallest actions - "the cooking of a breakfast, the burping of a baby, the fixing of a television set, the coming of a baby sitter" becoming big events. Amory still has "high hopes" for the show; the relationship between Cannon and Nolan is delightful, and the supporting cast excellent (including Michael Link, Corey's six-year-old friend, who is "goes easier on the sirup"). If only something would happen - "like, for example, the pro0ducer hiring a brand new black writer who would have the courage to tell him to stop telling it like it isn't."

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Aside from the Olympics, we've entered a quiet period in the sports world. The World Series, as I mentioned earlier, ended last week, while network coverage of the NBA and NHL doesn't begin until January. That leaves football, which - as its fans would say - is as it should be. We covered the single college game of the week, Penn State and UCLA, in the lede. (We do get highlights of the Notre Dame-Northwestern, Yale-Brown, and Purdue-Ohio State games on Sunday, though.) The NFL game on CBS features the New York Giants playing the Atlanta Falcons (1:30 p.m.), while NBC's AFL game is between the San Diego Chargers and Oakland Raiders. Not the most memorable weekend.

It is an election year though, which I suppose qualifies as a type of sport. The convulsive tumult of spring and summer has given way to what looks like a close election, and the networks are all over it. On CBS's Face the Nation (12:30 p.m.), the guest is Republican Vice Presidential candidate Spiro Agnew (or as he's still known, though not for long, Spiro Who?). Meanwhile, at 1:00 p.m. NBC's Meet the Press features George Wallace's running mate, General Curtis LeMay, and on ABC Issues and Answers interviews two top Eastern Republicans, New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller and Massachusetts Senator Edwards Brooke. New York and Connecticut candidates feature in several debates, and numerous programs throughout the week run five minutes short, allowing time for a Republican or Democratic "political message."

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For some reason, there's a surfeit of big-name entertainment specials on this week. First up is The Lainie Kazan Special at 7:00 p.m. Sunday on WPIX. Lainie Kazan is, shall we say, a healthy looking young woman, a Broadway and nightclub singer who next year will graduate to a Playboy spread (or so I've heard; I wouldn't know anything about that, of course). The show is a half-hour just of Lainie and her combo doing her hits. She's still active today, singing and acting and lending her time to various causes. Later Sunday (9:00 p.m., WNEW), it's Trini Lopez's turn, with a full-blown hour-long variety show from London, with guests Frank Gorshin (impersonating Richard Burton, Boris Karloff, and Krik Douglas), and musical-comedy star Georgia Brown. Then on NBC Monday night, Bob Hope returns (NBC, 9:00 p.m.) with John Davidson, Gwen Verdon, and Jeannie C Riley. That's followed at 10:00 by the dynamic Mitzi Gaynor, who sings, dances, and clowns her way through an hour* with her special guest star George Hamilton. Finally, NBC's back on Thursday night at 8:30 p.m. with a pilot called Soul Special, by Laugh-In producers George Schlatter and Ed Friendly, featuring Lou Rawls, Martha and the Vandelias, Hines, Hines & Dad, Redd Foxx, George Kirby, Nipsey Russell, and Slappy White, among others.

*Fun fact: the special is written by Larry Hovis, better known as Sergeant Carter on Hogan's Heroes.

There are plenty of regularly scheduled variety shows on tap as well; Sunday (CBS, 9:00 p.m.) the Smothers Brothers host the Beatles (on tape), Barbara Feldon, and Bill Medley. Monday it's Carol Burnett (CBS, 10:00 p.m.), who welcomes Bobbie Gentry and George Gobel. Tuesday at 7:30 p.m. on NBC, Jerry Lewis' guests are Flip Wilson, Nancy Ames, and the Osmond Brothers, while at 8:30 on CBS Red Skelton has Martha Raye and the First Edition. Wednesday's Kraft Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC) has Eddy Arnold as host, with Al Hirt, Jimmie Rodgers, Dana Valery, and Pat Henry. Finally, Thursday's Dean Martin hour has Cyd Charisse, Ben Blue, Don Cherry (the singer, not the hockey commentator), and Stanley Myron Handelman.

And then there are the talk shows. and if you're not satisfied with the choices out there I don't want to hear it. It seems as if everyone out there has a talk show; I'm going to spotlight Wednesday just as an example.

At 9:30 a.m. on WNEW, Joan Rivers has Sheila MacRae and author Daniel Takton, and at 10:00 Virginia Graham follows on WABC with Angela Martin, comedienne Betty Walker, and magician Velma. These shows are only 30 minutes (at least in these iterations), which make them exceptions to what follows, all of which run 90 minutes.

At 10:00 on WOR, Joe Franklin's guests include improvisation star Steve DePass. At 10:30 it's Dick Cavett's morning talk show for ABC, with comic actor Jack Gilford. At 2:00 p.m., WNEW is back with former Tonight bandleader Skitch Henderson, whose guests are Ed Ames, Dr. Joyce Brothers, and puppeteers Paul and Mary Ritts. At 4:30, it's the redoutable Mike Douglas on WCBS, with singers Trini Lopez (again!) and Astrud Gilberto, Broadway columnist Earl Wilson, actress Joanna Shimkus, and alligator wrestler Kaye Reid. At 8:00, Steve Allen's show features Art Linkletter, actress Joyce Jillson, comedian Pat Harrington, and singer Wilson Pickett. Then, at 8:30 p.m. WNEW goes up against the Olympics with Merv Grifin, whose guests include Patricia Neal, Trevor Howard, and Chet Huntley.

Johnny and Ed, together again.
We now move into the late night schedule, starting at 11:00 p.m. on WNEW with Donald O'Connor, whose guests include William Shatner, actors Cesare Danova and Genvieve Bujold, comedians Lew Parker and Betty Kane, and singer Brian Foley. Tony Curtis is one of Johnny Carson's guests on The Tonight Show at 11:30 on NBC, opposite which ABC and Joey Bishop welcome Dick Smothers (without Tommy!), singers Georgia Gibbs and D'Aldo Romano, and the all-time great racing driver Sterling Moss.

There are other interview shows - Alan Burke on WNEW, for example, and the syndicated programs often appear on different channels in different markets - but this gives you a pretty good idea of what the landscape looks like. With the shows at 90 minutes rather than 60, and with the convention being for guests to hang around after they've been interviewed, these were truly "talk" shows, not what passes for them today. Interesting schedule, no?

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This week's starlet is 21-year-old singer Gloria Loring, who's not only headlining nightclubs, she's made multiple appearances with Merv Griffin and Carol Burnett, done Kraft Music Hall and The Dean Martin Show on NBC and Operation: Entertainment on ABC, and has an appearance with Ed Sullivan coming up. She's attractive and fresh-faced, sings upbeat tunes (and sings all the words to them), and as a result the audiences respond. "I won't sing about despair," she says. "Who wants to be unhappy?" (And what a refreshing attitude that must be in 1969.)

Gloria Loring is one of those starlets whose career comes good; in addition to a singing career that continues to this day, she acts in the theater and on television (including five years on Days of Our Lives), writes books, makes the rounds as a motivational speaker, is a spokesperson for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, and is the mother of singer Robin Thicke (whose last name comes from Loring's marriage in the '70s and '80s to Alan Thicke). All in all, you'd have to say she's had a very successful career.

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Finally, there's a note in the Teletype that Orson Welles, of all people, may star in his own musical-variety series. He's said to be working with Greg Garrison, who produes Dean Martin's show, and they're making a pilot for NBC. I don't know what ever became of that, but if it was anything like this version, which Scott Beggs describes as "Welles riffing on Howard Beale, complete with his twist on Sybil the Soothsayer and a gun being aimed at Welles by the end," then we really missed something.  TV  

October 13, 2017

Around the dial

I've never had anything in particular against Friday the 13th. I'm not superstitious, so in a way I suppose it's as good a day as any other. One thing's for sure - it's your lucky day if you're looking for the best in the classic TV blogs.

Jack continues the Hitchcock Project look at Francis and Marion Cockrell at bare-bones e-zine with the first season story "The Case of Mr. Pelham." (I almost added "123" afterwards out of habit.) It's an episode directed by Hitch himself, with the wonderful Tom Ewell in a typical Tom Ewell role.

At The Horn Section, Hal is back with his continuing look at the Jack Warden series Crazy Like a Fox, and this week it's the 1986 episode "Fox and the Wolf," with Gene Barry over the top as a preoccupied Hollywood type, and it sounds wonderful!

Next, The Twilight Zone Vortex reviews the Richard Matheson short-story collection The Best of Richard Matheson, and although there are some glaring omissions, it still looks to be the best one-volume introduction to the works of the writer who penned so many of the greatest TZ episodes.

The Broadcasting Archives at the University of Maryland recalls the anniversary of the 1975 debut of Saturday Night Live (or NBC's Saturday Night, as it was first known; Howard Cosell already had the Saturday Night Live tag as part of his show) with a look at the first TV Guide cover for the Not Ready for Prime Time Players.

Some Polish American Guy has a bevy of podcasts for your listening pleasure - I suggest you check them out. Never know when I might be on one of them!

Even after the Golden Age of Christmas variety specials had passed, Perry Como's themed specials were still around, and at Christmas TV History, Joanna watches the 1978 edition, Perry Como's Early American Christmas. Having been to Colonial Williamsburg myself, this is one that I'd really like to go back and watch.

Classic Television Showbiz is back after a break with a video look back at ABC Comedy News from 1973, featuring Fannie Flagg, Andrew Duncan, Kenneth Mars, Mort Sahl, Bob & Ray, Dick Gregory, Peter Schickele, and Joan Rivers. Quite a cast, but what do you think of the show? Of course, anything with Peter "PDQ Bach" Schickele is usually worth watching.

At The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew notes the anniversary of the 1950 debut of Your Hit Parade, which later on featured Sue Bennett, Andrew's mother, as one of the singers. You may recall I reviewed his excellent book about those times here.

Television's New Frontier: The 1960s has now moved on to one of the most venerable television western, Death Valley Days; it was the second-longest TV western of all time, and its run covered pretty much the entire length of television western era. Always remembered the sponsor, 20 Mule Team Borax, and those covered wagon toy sets they sold.

And at Garroway at Large, Jodie shows us a copy of Fleur Cowles' book Bloody Precedent, the story of Juan Peron's regime in Argentina. Important, why? It was the first author interview ever on Dave Garroway's Today.

Assuming triskaidekaphobia doesn't get the best of you, see you back here tomorrow for a look at another TV Guide. TV