This week in TV Guide: July 3, 1965

I always enjoyed watching The Jimmy Dean Show when I was a kid. I didn't know anything about country music, or the demographics that would doom shows from Hee Haw and Green Acres to The Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction. If Jimmy Dean's sausage had been available back then, I wouldn't even have known about that. All I knew was that I liked Jimmy Dean, and I liked his sidekick, Rowlf.

Rowlf was the first Muppet I remember having seen; I don't think I'd even seen Kermit at that point. There was something about this dopey puppet that I thought was hilarious, and as I write this I suspect that maybe I liked Rowlf even more than I did Jimmy. The banter between the two was easy; Jimmy always called Rowlf  (or, as he pronounced it, "Ralph") "my ol' buddy," and Rowlf in turn displayed the typical Muppet humor that would endear him, and them, to so many over the years.

In fact, according to Richard Gehman's profile of Dean in this week's issue, Rowlf's popularity has at times threatened to overshadow that of the boss. During a location shoot, delighted crowds swarmed over Jim Henson to the point that Dean was overheard muttering, not entirely approvingly, "Next thing you know, they'll be calling the dog the star of this here ol' show." If it happens, though, it will only be through Dean's suffrage, because Jimmy Dean is in fact the boss of his show. He knows his audience, he knows himself, he knows what the viewers would buy. In the show's first season, when the network had tried to pass him off as urbane and sophisticated, the show teetered on the edge of cancellation until Dean put his foot down. "Lemme do it mah way," he told the suits, and the ratings took off.

Though he is undeniably in charge, there is an easy camaraderie between Dean and the crew, and his producer acknowledges that nine times out of ten Dean's suggestions for changes wind up improving the finished product. Unlike, say, Andy Griffith's character in A Face in the Crowd, the Dean you see in front of the camera is in essence the same as the one off-camera. Sure, the accent is maybe a bit put-on. (His wife acknowledges that in real life he "really doesn't have much of an accent.") And for all the down-home cornpone humor, he's quite a bit more sophisticated than that.

Behind that aw-shucks country boy was a shrewd businessman who know exactly what he was doing. The Dean show ends in 1966, and three years later Jimmy Dean sausage hits the shelves. And, of course, Rowlf goes on to be a fixture on many Muppet presentations over the years (not to mention a few business films), and of course The Muppet Show. The ol' country boy and his dog didn't do too badly, did they?

l  l  l

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: In this first rerun of the season, Ed welcomes singer-dancer Juliet Prowse, singer Connie Francis, comics Allen and Rossi, French pop singer Jean Paul Vignon, the Harlem Globetrotters, comedienne Jean Carroll, Country and Western singer Roy Orbison, and the Youngs, a teeterboard act.

Palace: Bette Davis hosts this rerun from February, with guests Bert Lahr; singer Julius LaRosa; comedian Jan Murray; dancer Barrie Chase; the Nerveless Nocks, acrobats; Australian comic juggler Rob Murray; and Les Cinci, a Parisian couple.

Well, what do we have this week? On the Palace side, Bette Davis is a legend, but is she also a host? She has some star power helping her out: Bert Lahr, a talented man; Barrie Chase, both talented and a babe; Jan Murray a very funny comedian; and Julius LaRosa a pretty fair singer. Ed has Juliet Prowse, who's not quite in the same league as Chase; Jean Carroll, who's not quite as funny as Murray, and Connie Francis, who—well, OK, she might win that matchup with LaRosa. But can acrobats and jugglers keep pace with the Harlem Globetrotters, who can acrobat and juggle with the best of them? Allen and Rossi are favorites of Ed's. And then there's Roy Orbison, who's pretty much of a legend himself.  As much as I'd like to pick one or the other (and, at one time, I might have chosen one or the other), the only way I see out of this week is to call it a Push.

l  l  l

You can't really ignore a quote as incendiary as the one on this week's cover, "I've seen pig pens better run," and Edith Efron chats this week with the author of those choice words, FCC commissioner Lee Loevinger. Loevinger, a former justice on the Minnesota State Supreme Court, is something of a libertarian when it comes to Federal control over the airwaves, setting him apart from his colleagues on the Commission; for instance, Loevinger believes that the separation of church and state (which, we all know, never appears in the Constitution) would seem to render moot the FCC's authority to mandate religious programming on local broadcasters.

Lee Loevinger

For that matter, Loevinger seems skeptical that the FCC has much of any authority over broadcasters (making him a curious choice to serve on the Commission), saying that the Commission's charter requiring stations to operate "in the public interest," combined with the FCC's authority to determine just what that public interest is, amounts to an infringement on the First Amendment rights of broadcasters. Loevinger cites the relevant section of the Communications Act, which explicitly states that "nothing in the statues 'shall be understood or construed to give the Commission the power of censorship over broadcasting.'" According to Loevinger's reading of the First Amendment, "The plain truth is that we have no damn business getting involved in programming at all." 

His strongly-held beliefs lead him to oppose the Fairness Doctrine that requires equal time be offered to any controversial issue, and extends as far as the realm of dramatic programming, about which he says that "[y]ou can't constitutionally compel people to read good books, or watch good plays, even on the assumption that you know what good art is, and that is a perilous assumption." Of former chairman Newton "Vast Wasteland" Minow, he says, "The Minow view, that it is the FCC's duty to elevate the level and quality of broadcasting, is legally and morally wrong," and uses words like "ill-considered . . . illogical . . . silliness . . . nonsense . . . contradictions . . . essential error" to describe Minow's famous speech.

One wonders what exactly Loevinger thinks the FCC ought to be doing. Mostly, he says, granting broadcast licenses, which is what the Commission was created to do in the first place. But it was that license-granting authority which originally gave the FCC the foothold into regulation of programming, and the problem of how to separate the two—how the FCC can still grant licenses without making subjective judgments regarding the merits of the applicants and their proposed programming. There are no standards for judging, Loevinger complains, which makes the separation between licensure and regulation almost impossible to maintain.

It's no surprise that Loevinger has few friends on the Commission, and most experts remain puzzled as to why the late President Kennedy appointed him to take Minow's place (although students of JFK's style know how he enjoyed appointments that "rocked the boat"). He'll remain at the FCC until 1968, fighting the lonely fight, his most lasting accomplishment being to encourage AT&T to establish a uniform emergency phone number: 911.

l  l  l

The Famous Adventures of Mr. Magoo (Saturday, 8:30 p.m. PT, NBC) was inspired by the success of Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol; the premise has Magoo starring each week in adaptations of famous literary classics such as Robin Hood and Moby Dick. As was the case in Christmas Carol, Magoo plays the roles straight without the jokes about his nearsightedness, but tonight's episode, "Don Quixote de la Mancha," would have been a perfect opportunity to explain why Don Quixote was able to mistake windmills for attacking knights. Marvin Miller, from The Millionaire, plays the Don's sidekick Sancho Panza.

Sunday marks the first network broadcast of the final round of the U.S. Women's Open Golf Championship, from the Atlantic City Country Club in Northfield, New Jersey (1:00 p.m., NBC). As is par for the course (har har!), only the final three holes are covered in the one-hour telecast*; future Hall of Famer Carol Mann shoots an even par 72, including a birdie on the final hole, to win by two strokes over Kathy Cornelius.

*The Women's Open is followed at 2:00 p.m. by the final round of the Western Open, one of the longest-standing tournaments on the men's tour; coverage of this limited to the final three holes as well.

Sunday is also the Fourth of July, which, as we've noted in the past has never been a particularly notable day for TV specials. However, ABC's Issues and Answers (1:30 p.m.) does display something of a wry humor, interviewing Sir Patrick Dean, Great Britain's ambassador to the United States, on the 189th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. On the local scene, KXTV in Sacramento has the movie Stars and Stripes Forever, starring Clifton Webb as John Philip Sousa; later on, it's James Cagney in his Oscar-winning role as George M. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandy (11:35 p.m., KPIX in San Francisco).

Monday is the start of another week of celebrity appearances on afternoon game shows: Buddy Greco and Molly Bee on NBC's What's This Song? (9:30 a.m.); Rita Moreno and Les Crane on the same network's Call My Bluff (11:00 a.m.); Ann Jeffries and Alan Young on Password (1:00 p.m., CBS), followed by Peggy Cass, Orson Bean, Tom Poston and Kitty Carlisle on To Tell the Truth (1:30 p.m., CBS); and a pair of NBC shows rounding out the day, Dwayne Hickman and Emmaline Henry on You Don't Say! (2:00 p.m.), and Gisele MacKenzie and Bobby Vinton on The Match Game (2:30 p.m.). Dwayne Hickman was, of course, the star of The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis; coincidentally, the movie appearing opposite Password is none other than 1953's The Affairs of Dobie Gillis (2:00 p.m., KTVU in San Francisco), with singer/dancer Bobby Van as Dobie. Fun fact: Bobby Van also appeared as a contestant on Password, in 1974 with his wife, Elaine Joyce.

Moment of Fear is one of those summer dramatic anthology series comprised of episodes from other dramatic anthologies, something that wasn't particularly unusual in the 1960s; Tuesday's episode, though, is really dipping back into the past. It's "The Secret Darkness" (8:30 p.m., NBC), starring Vincent Price and Bethel Leslie, and it first appeared on Studio 57 in 1957, eight years ago—you could only do this back in the days when there were still black-and-white programs in prime time. By comparison, the anthology series that follows, Cloak of Mystery (9:00 p.m., NBC), has a story that's virtually brand new: "Mr.. Lucifer," with Fred Astaire and Elizabeth Montgomery, which ran on Astaire's Alcoa Premiere series only three years ago, back in 1962.

Wednesday's highlight relies on cameo appearances by Rudy Vallee and Hedda Hopper as themselves in "Lucy Takes a Cruise to Havana" on The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour (10:00 p.m., CBS). Besides the Mertzes, the guest cast includes Ann Sothern, Cesar Romero, and Frank Nelson. In case there's anyone out there who doesn't know this, legendary gossip columnist Hedda Hopper is the mother of William Hopper, who plays Paul Drake in Perry Mason.

Robert Goulet makes his American TV dramatic debut in the Kraft Suspense Theatre episode "Operation Greif" (Thursday, 10:00 p.m. NBC), in a story about the real-life German plot to infiltrate American lines with saboteurs and terrorists wearing American uniforms. Goulet is known for his singing and musical-comedy performances, but his success in this dramatic role might be the impetus for his casting in the 1966 World War II drama series Blue Light, where he plays an American double agent working in Germany during the war. Kind of a counter-Operation Greif.

Rounding out the week is a program that manages to be both dated and timely: it's "Is Democracy Too Expensive This Year?", an episode of the political drama series Slattery's People, starring Richard Crenna (Friday, 10:00 p.m., CBS). The plot has Slattery and a party fundraiser visiting a potential Congressional candidate who needs money to run a viable campaign; Slattery wants to help raise the money, but the fundraiser doesn't want to waste it on a candidate who doesn't have a chance. It's timely in that it shows how money makes politics go around; dated in that it shows how much more money candidates need today.

l  l  l

I'm not quite sure how to break it to James Gilgour, of Wynnewood, Pennsylvania, but his Letter to the Editor marks him as a trusting soul who needs to be let down easy, and that's what the editor does in response to his missive regarding a recent profile of Gunsmoke's Doc, Milburn Stone. "You use the expression—'Miss Kitty’s questionable character'," notes Gilgour. During all the years of watching Gunsmoke, I never once saw or heard anything which made me question Miss Kitty’s character. In what way can you justify the statement? 

The editorial response, delicately phrased, is that "Histories of the West bear out, we think, that dance-hall girls of the era were, more often than not, of "questionable character." Less delicately put, many of them were prostitutes, the upstairs of the Long Branch was a brothel, and Miss Kitty herself, according to no less an authority than Amanda Blake, was the madame, having started out as a "working girl" before becoming half-owner of the Long Branch. Now, it's true that the radio version of Gunsmoke was a little more explicit about this than the television series, but I think that in this case we can rest assured as to what the rest of the story really is. Sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Jim, but that's the way it is. If it's any consolation, though, she does have a heart of gold.

l  l  l

Finally, remember that "Six Degrees of Separation" game we played the other week? Well, I'll go you one better here. On this week's nighttime version of Password (Thursday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), the celebrity panelists are Woody Allen and Nancy Sinatra. The following year Nancy's father, Frank, will marry Mia Farrow. That marriage won't last, but eventually Farrow hooks up with—Woody Allen. Apparently the connection between Frank and Mia wasn't entirely dead though, based on her suggestion that son Ronan might belong to Frank. The password is. . .

l  l  l

MST3K alert: Teenagers from Outer Space (1959) Three aliens decide that the earth is the perfect spot to graze their man-eating monsters. David Love, Dawn Anderson, Bryan Grant. (Thursday, 3:00 p.m., KRON in San Francisco) There's no particular reason for the titular alien in this movie to be a teen—unless it's meant to serve as a warning to parents out there. See what can happen to your kids if you're not careful? They'll be blasting the skin off humans! I guess kids are the same all over, aren't they? TV  

Around the dial

You know how some videos have warnings at the beginning advising viewers that they contain flashing lights or loud noises, or something else that might trigger a seizure or some other reaction? I probably need to have a similar warning letting readers know that "The following article contains political asides that might cause an adverse reaction in readers holding a contrary viewpoint." 

With the exception of my "Descent Into Hell" series, I rarely dip into ideological politics, but as the author, editor, and all-around master of this blog, I reserve the right to express an opinion now and then. I don't do it to antagonize; as a long-time politico, I've always enjoyed discussing politics, especially with those of the opposite persuasion. It's a cliché to say that some of my best friends are on the opposite side politically, but I love a good discussion, and I have great respect for those who feel the same way, no matter which side they support. (Some of them are fellow classic TV bloggers, which just goes to show that love for good television overcomes all.)

Now, for the reason I'm bringing all this up. If you read the comments, you're probably aware that I got one last Friday from someone styling him/herself as "Guardian" challenging me to define "woke," a word I'd used in relation to Doctor Who. It was a provocative question, far more provocative than it would appear, because some time before, Guardian had excoriated me for having opinions that were allegedly "MAGA." I told him (let's assume he's male, to save time) that the ironic thing about this is that I'm not even a supporter of Donald Trump. I'm not a supporter of Joe Biden either; make of that what you will. 

At any rate, this leads me to an article by Pedro Gonzalez at Chronicles on X's new animated sitcom, The New Norm Show, billed as the first anti-woke sitcom, and why anti-woke comedy isn't funny. I link to this not to prove a political point, but to demonstrate why so many of us have such an affinity for vintage television shows: politics, regardless of what side of the aisle it comes from, is rarely a good match with entertainment.

On a more conventional note, Jack's Hitchcock Project at bare•bones e-zine turns to the tenth-season episode "The Trap," the only Hitchcock contribution from Lee Kalcheim. It's an excellent example of how someone can successfully adapt a six-page short story into a one-hour teleplay, and it's worth watching.

At Garroway at Large, Jodie shares her latest addition to her ever-expanding Garroway library: the book Todaymanship, or: The Art of Watching Garroway Between 7 and 9 a.m., a slim volume, complete with illustrations, written to appeal to potential advertisers. It looks like a fun little gem; perhaps when we're done with the garden, I'll have a little disposable income to pick up some goodies like this.

Hal is back with another excursion into Love That Bob! at The Horn Section; this time, it's the 1958 episode "Bob Digs Rock n' Roll," in which Chuck (Dwayne Hickman) finds, to his misfortune, that rock is what makes the girls go wild.

John looks at the first series of the police drama Whitechapel at Cult TV Blog. A drama rather than simply a "procedural," the 2009 series investigates a single crime (a Jack the Ripper copycat) against the background of relationships among the relationships of the investigating officers.

At Comfort TV, David once again reminds us of the importance of viewing classic television programs in their proper context rather than applying today's shifting standards. Case in point: Sally Field's 1960s sitcom Gidget, and the idea that the older men Gidget is often interested in are just "creepy" predators. Speaking as someone who's often worn the badge of "cynic," it's unfortunate how people can apply this cynicism and suspicion to shows that meant to suggest no such thing.

Gill wraps up a delightful two-part interview with Morgan Brittany, who played Katherine Wentworth on Dallas, at Realweegiemidget. It's a fun and insightful look at her memories of working on the famed soap. 

As you know, Perry Mason has always been among my favorites, so I greatly enjoyed Garry Berman's look at the show's "entertaining imperfections." He's right on all counts; sometimes these traits, seen in virtually every episode, can be irritating, but they're almost always entertaining.

Finally, at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence reports on the decision by Paramount to close the MTV News website and erase more than 30 years worth of material. I've commented on this in the past, and I'll do so again here: does any institution treat its history more carelessly than television? I think I've demonstrated many times the vital role that television plays in understanding and interpreting American history over the past 75 or so years, and yet the industry itself seems not to know, or not to care, about it. To paraphrase someone or another, television is much too important to be left to the people running it. TV  

TV Jibe: The awful truth

 TV  

What's on TV? Saturday, June 22, 1968

As I mentioned on Saturday, today's program schedule is still being impacted by the news coverage of Robert F. Kennedy's funeral a couple of weeks ago—look at all the "Postponed from an earlier date" notices. This is most likely due not to the content of these programs; episodes with excessive violence were generally pushed off to sometime later in the year. What we're seeing here is a domino effect of sorts; since news coverage on June 8 ran throughout the day and into the evening, several episodes scheduled to run on that date were pushed to the next week, which in turn pushed those scheduled episodes to the following week. This is what I call "between the lines" history; it wasn't uncommon to see those "Postponed from an earlier date" notices from time to time, but when you have a large number of them on the same date and across the networks, that should be a clue, even to someone with no knowledge of the context, that something unexpected had happened. Of course, you wouldn't have that today, what with online programming guides, and it's little things like this that we lose in the digital era—the sense that history leaves a paper trail, especially where you least expect it. These listings come from the Northern California edition.

This week in TV Guide: June 22, 1968

The nation still reels from the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy a little over two weeks ago, and television is no exception.

Periodically throughout its history, the medium's majordomos have engaged in bouts of soul-searching, and as television increases in cultural importance, it displays something of a schizophrenic attitude regarding its responsibility to society. In the aftermath of the assassinations of Kennedy and Martin Luther King, as well as increasing urban turmoil, all eyes turn toward the effect that TV might have had on creating a "climate of violence."

This week, Richard K. Doan asks the question: "Had television's violence-prone "action-adventure" drama contributed substantially to today's climate of solution-by-murder?" People from all walks debate the issue, from historian (and Kennedy camp follower) Arthur Schlessinger to playwright Arthur Miller to the president of the United States himself, who asks "whether 'the seeds of violence' have been nurtured by TV, movies and news media." The Louisville Times refers to "America the Brutal," and points the finger at TV as "a root" of the evil, using a picture of Richard Boone as Paladin in Have Gun—Will Travel as evidence. (I know it's hard to believe, considering what one sees on TV nowadays, but at one time Have Gun—Will Travel was considered one of the most violent programs on television.

New York Representative John Murphy condemns the networks, saying that "[n]ight after night one program after the other shows violence in great detail and in living color." Miller, the playwright, says that the country was now at the stage where "any half-educated man in a good suit can make his fortune by concocting a television show whose brutality is photographed in sufficiently monstrous detail."

It's not just politicians and pundits raising Cain, though, as a perusal of the Letters to the Editor section shows. Casey Willis of Tucson complains that although there have been hundreds of gun killings in the U.S., "many of the most popular shows on TV have been based on firearms and violence," and suggests that TV "should search its own soul." Mary Hendrickson of Hudson, NY adds that "I can censor my own children's programs, but what of the children whose parents don't know or care what is pounded into their impressionable little heads?" TV has done a good job covering the recent tragedies; now, "do something to prevent them." And P. Corcoran of the Bronx says that "TV is one of the worst offenders in this crime" of violence flooding the country, citing Mission: Impossible as one of the shows "warping our youngsters."

Of course, there's one problem with these theories: the possibility, if not probability, that Kennedy's assassination was a political act. We're not here to debate the identities of the individuals or organizations behind the assassination, but we are talking about the television's culpability in the murder, and so it bears pointing out that if Sirhan Sirhan, who was convicted of Kennedy's murder, was indeed guilty, then one also has to accept that his motive was not the violent content on TV, but a hatred of Kennedy for his support of Israel, and that the act itself was planned in a cold, calculating manner. If, on the other hand, the assassination was part of a conspiracy (whether or not it included Sirhan), then you have to conclude that the killing was a geopolitical act, involving the FBI, the CIA, the military, the LAPD, or any one of countless organizations, and requiring a fairly high level of coordination. In either case, this leaves no room for televised violence as a cause. Political zealots probably don't have time to watch television let alone be influenced by it, and it's highly unlikely that the conspirators at the FBI got the idea from watching Seven Days in May on Saturday Night at the Movies. It probably would have happened even if the most violent thing on television was a fluffy white kitten attacking a ball of yarn.

Be that as it may—and, as we all know, there's no room for logic when emotion is involved—the ensuing hue and cry virtually demands a response from network executives, and one shape this takes is by pulling its most violent episodes off the air, at least for the short term. NBC also released a statement assuring the public that they "have established policies and procedures to guard against the depiction of violence fore its own sake," while CBS president Frank Stanton promised that the network  "would seek to 'de-emphasize' violence" on their programs.

One testimony to the effect of the assassination on television is the slew of shows bearing the legend "Postponed from an earlier date," the heaviest concentration of which appear on Saturday. Although network coverage of the assassination and aftermath were nowhere near the 1963 levels, all three networks preempted virtually all of their Saturday programming for Kennedy's funeral and burial. The intent had been to return to regular programming at the start of prime time, but the funeral train was four-and-a-half hours late, and the entire slate wound up being wiped out. The Prisoner, Hogan's Heroes, The Dating Game, Petticoat Junction, an ABC profile of land speed-record holder Craig Breedlove—all were victims of the accordion effect of postponements and rescheduling. (The Breedlove documentary finally airs this Saturday at 4:00 p.m. PT on ABC.)

And so the landscape changes, for a time, and kinder, gentler programming will now be the fashion, with programs such as The Wild Wild West no longer on network schedules. But for how long? (As Doan points out, four days later NBC's action series The Champions featured a scene in which one of the show's heroes "was tortured by being stretched on an automobile version of the medieval rack.) I suppose there's any number of studies that could isolate when the trend toward more violent fare resumed, and let's face it: no matter how noble the intent might be, ultimately ratings (and the concurrent advertising dollars) rule, and the viewers cast the deciding votes. The level of violence on television today is astonishing; I can't imagine what the people, who were so aghast at '60s violence, would think of it. One could argue that, having grown up in a so-called culture of violence, people are more inured to it, making them less likely to be influenced by it. And yet, things seldom change much: every time there's a school shooting or bombing or other act of violence, the cry arises once again. If it's not television, it's video games; if not that, then something else.

For a long time, television has attempted to have it both ways, downplaying the influence its programs have on viewers' behavior while at the same time accepting ads designed to influence viewers' behavior. That's always seemed a bit disingenuous to me. Of course the content of television programming affects viewers. Likewise, though, there can't be much doubt that the audience is receptive and willing. It's a chicken-and-egg situation: does the problem lie with the programming, or the people watching it?

l  l  l

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: On this first in a series of reruns, CBS renames its Broadway theater in honor of Ed. Guests: New York City mayor John Lindsay, Pearl Bailey, Alan King, Met baritone Robert Merrill, actress-dancer Gwen Verdon, comedians Wayne and Schuster, the Argentine singing group Los Nimos Cantores de Murialdo, and the Emerald Society pipe bands of New York's police and fire departments.

Palace: Host Sid Caesar dominates this hour of comedy and music. Guests: Marlo Thomas (who narrates a showing of 1968 resort fashions), singers Sergio Franchi and Fran Jeffries, and the rocking Checkmates, Ltd. In a mime spot, Sid conducts Tchaikovsky’s "1812 overture."  Sketch: The hiring of a too-attractive maid brews trouble for three neighboring couples. 

I suppose that we should be impressed by New York Mayor John Lindsay's appearance at the dedication of the Ed Sullivan Theater; CBS could just as well have had William Paley make the presentation instead. (Of course, Lindsay was the flavor of the month back then.) It's a bug, not a feature; even so, no matter how good Sid Caesar might be, Marlo Thomas and the Checkmates are not going to edge out Pearl Bailey, Alan King and Robert Merrill. Never mind the politicians: this week, my vote goes to Sullivan.

l  l  l

The summer months mean not only reruns, but summer replacement series. We'll start, however, with Kup's Show (Saturday, 9:00 p.m., KEMO in San Francisco), hosted by the legendary Chicago Sun-Times columnist Irv Kupcinet. At three hours, it's the longest talk show on television (not including David Susskind's Open End, which could last who-knows-how-long), but it's often worth it. Tonight's guests are indeed an eclectic collection: Alf Landon, former governor of Kansas and the unsuccessful 1936 Republican presidential candidate (they wouldn't win until 1952); Charlie Grimm, former manager of the Chicago Cubs, who managed them to the World Series in 1945 (they wouldn't be back for another 71 years); and Arlene Francis, who doesn't seem to fit any of these categories but is a delightful presence nonetheless.

CBS must be breathing a sigh of relief; the Smothers Brothers are on vacation for the summer, and in their place is  The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour (Sunday, 9:00 p.m.). Glen's special guest tonight is Nancy Sinatra, and they'll be joined by Smothers regulars Pat Paulsen and Leigh French. Campbell, riding a string of hits (with more on the way), is everything that a network could hope for from a variety show host, and he'll do well enough in the ratings to merit a return engagement the following January, where he remains until January 1972.  

Monday night sees the debut of Comedy Playhouse (9:00 p.m., NBC), a collection of comedy episodes that originally appeared on Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theater back in 1966. Monty Hall is the host this time around, and we start things off with "And Baby Makes Five," a frothy story about the differences between city and country life, with a cast that makes up for the plot: Cliff Robertson, Angie Dickinson, Nina Foch, and Walter Abel.

Tuesday's a night for summer variety shows, beginning with Showcase '68 (8:00 p.m., NBC), hosted by Lloyd Thaxton, which serves as the replacement for The Jerry Lewis Show. The show highlights young entertainers performing for a group of guest judges; tonight's show comes from the World's Fair in San Antonio, Texas, with Bobby Vinton as the special guest. A more conventional variety show is the similarly-named Showtime (8:30 p.m., CBS), the summer stand-in for The Red Skelton Hour, this week with Eddy Arnold as host. Showtime is one of a number of British imports produced by Lew Grade's ITC Entertainment, a mainstay of 60s TV; other shows of theirs finding spots in the American summer schedule include the terrific Man in a Suitcase (Friday, 8:30 p.m., ABC), in place of its Disney-wannabee Off to See the Wizard; the aforementioned The Champions (Monday, 8:00 p.m., NBC), subbing for Laugh-In; and The Prisoner (Saturday, 7:30 p.m., CBS), filling in for The Jackie Gleason Show. 

Wednesday's highlight comes in the late-night hours, with the 1950 noir classic D.O.A. (12:15 a.m., KBHK in San Francisco), starring Edmund O'Brien as a poisoned man trying to solve his own murder before he dies. If that's too late for you, you might be interested in Kraft Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC), with John Davidson finishing up his stint as host, and guests including Kaye Ballard, Soupy Sales, and the Irish Rovers. I wouldn't be interested, but you might. You might also choose the ABC Evening News (5:30 p.m.), which has an extended report on cryonics—the practice of freezing the dead bodies of disease victims until a cure can be found. It's a wonder Walt Disney didn't do a science feature on this.

Dean Martin never worked summers, and this year his replacement is none other than the Golddiggers, the singing and dancing group of luscious lovelies that first appeared with Deano in the spring. Appearing in Dean's regular timeslot (Thursday, 10:00 p.m., NBC), the Golddiggers will go on to be the top-rated series of the summer; they'll also be the summer replacement for Martin in 1969 and 1970, and that fall they become regulars on his show. Tonight's show is headed up by Joey Heatherton and Frank Sinatra Jr., with guests Paul Lynde, Barbara Heller, the Times Square Two, Stanley Myron Handelman, Stu Gilliam, and Skiles and Henderson. 

Friday night features the first college football game of the season, the late and unlamented Coaches' All-America Game, played in Atlanta. (5:30 p.m., ABC) It's actually the last game of the 1967 college season, since both teams are staffed by seniors about to join NFL training camps.* Recognizable names: UCLA quarterback Gary Beban, winner of the Heisman Trophy, Syracuse fullback Larry Csonka, one of the stalwarts of Miami's Super Bowl teams; and USC's Ron Yary, the first pick in the 1968 NFL Draft and an all-pro for Minnesota; both Csonka and Yary are now in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

*This game, like the much-loved College All-Star Game that pitted college stars against the defending NFL champions, was a victim of increased concerns over injuries, and pro teams' desires to get their players in camp earlier. It lasted, believe it or not, until 1976.

The CBS Friday night movie is A Night to Remember (9:00 p.m.), the 1958 story of the sinking of the Titanic, starring Kenneth More, David McCallum, and Honor Blackman. Judith Crist rightly calls Eric Ambler's screenplay an "outstanding" adaptation of Walter Lord's best-seller, and describes it as a movie "that you should not miss." Longtime readers will recall that the story of the Titanic has been one of my lifetime passions, and this movie (I'd already read the book) solidified that passion 

l  l  l

Documentaries and news specials are always popular in the summer; they're not reruns, and they aren't preempting first-run episodes of popular series. That might be a cynical take, but this week's programming backs it up. CBS weighs in the crisis in America's cities with The Cities, a three-part look at the staggering problems facing America's urban areas, which airs at 10:00 p.m. on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The question confronting the country is "whether black and white can share a Nation's cities in peace and dignity." A heavy question then, and one that's still being asked today.

On Thursday at 10:00 p.m., ABC ups the ante with the first in a six-part examination of racism in America (not on consecutive nights, thankfully); "Bias and the Media," hosted by Frank Reynolds, looks at "the mass media’s portrayal of and discrimination against the Negro, and their effect on the black community," concentrating on job discrimination within the industry and the stereotypes being perpetuated by it. Reynolds is joined by Harry Belafonte, Lena Horne, psychiatrist Alvin Poussaint, and black nationalist poet-critic Lawrence Neal.

The talk isn't limited to network programming; San Francisco station KRON's Assignment Four (Thursday, 7:00 p.m.) examines "Our Delinquent Society" through a week in the life of Berkeley policemen Roy Nedro, from the daily meeting in the squad room to calls dealing with robbery, domestic quarrels, fires, and other emergencies.

Not everything's so heavy, though; ABC presents a repeat of the Jacques Cousteau special "The Savage World of the Coral Jungle," narrated by Rod Serling and Captain Cousteau. (Tuesday, 8:30 p.m.) The "graceful movements of ocean life" must be soothing indeed to viewers frazzled by the rest of the news.

l  l  l

We'll wrap up this week's review with Robert Higgins's profile of  "intergalactic golden boy" William Shatner, who's hit it big with Star Trek, but he's not a happy man. He's a classically trained actor, a veteran of Shakespearean productions and high-class TV dramas, but as he said, "A plaque on the wall doesn't by baby food." The man who wowed audiences as Henry V when he was 22 and has a lengthy list of credits in television has found that success doesn't necessarily translate to happiness, nor does flying around the universe lead to professional satisfaction. When a dream dies, he says, "there’s such a terrible void, such a loss. I find myself clinging to times when life was a joy, a thing to cherish. Today, I’d characterize success as security and love."

He's struggling in other ways as well.  His father died a year ago, he's now separated from his wife of 10 years, and he sees his life as "an empty pit." He hungers for friends, but finds only fans; "people who’ve known me since I was born want my autograph. I want to yell out, 'Hey, I’m not different. Give me your arms, not your pens.'" 

Higgins leaves us with a classic Shatner moment though, one that you can almost hear as you read it on the page. Addressing the National Conference of Christians and Jews, the Shat tells the audience that "I'm a Jew, but I do not believe in your God...I do know we are all afraid of dying...we are all afraid of loneliness. Those are universal truths. Are you scared? I'm scared...I love you...I need you."

The words of a transformed man, don't you think?

l  l  l

MST3K alert: The Undead (1957) A reincarnation researcher follows a harlot’s soul back 1000 years—and finds that in her first life she was condemned to die for witchcraft. Pamela Duncan, Richard Garland, Allison Hayes. (Saturday, 1:35 p.m., KGO in San Francisco) "I've never known more about what isn't going on in a movie," Mike says about this melodrama featuring shape-shifters, imps (played by Billy Barty!), witches, and the Devil, all directed by Roger Corman. If that isn't nightmare fuel, I don't know what is. TV  

Around the dial

It's remarkable how close to the screen people used to sit to watch TV, isn't it? As someone with more than a passing interest in interior design and layout, I'd be interested to know what the rest of the living room looked like. Based on the position of the ottoman, you'd have to think that dad's chair has been turned around to face the set, and everyone's gathered around. Nowadays, we make the television the focal point of our living room. I'm not saying it's better or worse, just different.

Anyway, the Broadcast Archives shares a story about a game that this family might have played, once upon a time. It's called the Radio Game, made by Milton Bradley, and was one of the things people might have used to become more comfortable with new technology. Ever seen this in an antique store?

The View from the Junkyard continues its journey through the oeuvre of The Avengers; this week, we pick up where we left off last week, with Linda Thorson (Tara King) still on vacation, and appropriately the episode is titled "The Morning After." Even though she's not in it much, she's still a help to Steed.

Brian Clemens, producer of The Avengers, had high praise for the nineties series Bugs, comparing it favorably to that iconic show. Of course, he had something to do with Bugs as well, but, as John points out at Cult TV Blog, it's a series that lives up to the billing, and more.

Another week, another blog anniversary; this time, it's one of my favorite sites, Television Obscurities, which is celebrating its 21st, and that's enough to make this humble site of mine feel like a piker. It sounds as if Robert has some interesting projects in the hopper; looking forward to seeing them.

The Oscar-nominated actress Anouk Aimée died this week, age 92, and at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence has a look back at her remarkable career, which includes an impressive television resume in addition to her many movies. She was a genuine movie star.

Martin Grams takes a look at the latest season of Doctor Who, airing on Disney+ here in the good old U.S.of A. I've mentioned that I gave up on the series a few years ago, and even if I hadn't, I wouldn't give Disney a penny of my money, but of course I'm happy for the fans who've stuck with it. 

The Twilight Zone Vortex is back, and this week Jordon reviews the final-season dystopian episode "The Old Man in the Cave," starring James Coburn, John Anderson and John Marley. Not vintage TZ perhaps, but this excellent writeup shows how it still touches on serious issues worth discussing. TV  

F is for Fake

I'll admit, on a good day, that I can be a little bit neurotic. Not crazy; I mean, it's a given that anyone who spends the amount of time watching and writing about old television shows has to be at least a little cracked, right? No, what I'm talking about is this deep-seated fear that, even though I've written about classic television for fifteen years and authored a book abut it, sooner or later I'm going to be unmasked as a poseur, a fraud, someone who isn't really the expert he pretends to be. 

Having talked with several of my fellow TV historians over the years, I've found that my insecurity isn't unusual; in fact, it seems to be something we all have in common, along with the love of shows that nobody else has ever heard of. This provides absolutely no consolation to me; after all, there's nothing that prevents multiple people from sharing the same neuroses, nor would it be out of the ordinary for us to congregate in the same places. It's something I've learned to live with, though. I suppose we all have our little hang-ups.

When I'm asked what I do, I generally reply that I'm a writer, as well as a TV historian. As the late novelist Paul Auster once said, "Writing is no longer an act of free will for me; it's a matter of survival." And when it comes to writing, let me tell you, I can massage the hell out of a sentence, revising it three or four (or a dozen or two) times, moving paragraphs here and there and working things to death until I'm satisfied. (The computer has been a great blessing in that sense.) Some pieces never completely satisfy me, but then, you can't always let the perfect become the enemy of the good, and sometimes you have to just let it go or give up on it altogether. 

I mention this because, as you probably know, I've been a guest on Dan Schneider's Video Interview regularly during the past couple of years. I have a great time with Dan; he's an excellent host, and our conversations are always enjoyable. But, at least for me, it's much easier to communicate knowledge and information through the written word rather than verbally. 

For example, looking back on the recent program we did about Mary Tyler Moore, at one point I'm talking as if, in addition to providing the shapely silhouette for Sam, the shadowy figure of Richard Diamond's answering service, she also supplied Sam's voice. Now, that's not the case, and I knew that; later on, I pointed that out more clearly. Now, if I had been writing the same thing, I would have reworked the paragraph over and over (as I have in writing this paragraph) until it said exactly what I meant. You don't get the chance to do that when you're working in a "live" medium, unless you're able to edit and reedit the tape, which we don't.

I don't know how many people are truly comfortable in the video and audio worlds, but to be even passably competent, you have to have a fleetness of mind, a nimble way an easy way of thinking that enables you to self-edit as you go along, and the ability to segue from one topic to another without falling flat on your face. And there's no question, as far as I'm concerned, that I'm not nearly as nimble in that respect as I used to be. Words and thoughts don't come as quickly or easily as they used to, and they don't flow as smoothly as they once did. It doesn't concern me in the bigger picture; it's called getting old (deal with it!) and it happens to everyone. 

But it frustrates me that I can't transition as quickly as I could fifteen years ago, that it's harder for me to articulate what I mean to say as precisely as I once did. I never did enjoy watching myself on television, and now I don't even try; I find it too cringeworthy. And it bothers me that it might, in the eyes of viewers, make me sound less credible as a historian. It's one thing to be wrong; it's another to sound wrong, 

And then there's the tendency that I have to take off on some tangent, a rabbit hole that barely touches on the topic in question and that only I have any interest in. I suppose this comes in part from any historian's desire to demonstrate everything he's learned about a topic, but I prefer to blame it on my political background, where they taught us that, when doing interviews, to redefine the question to what it is that you want to talk about, and answer that instead. (Another gift we're taught is how to deflect blame to someone or something else, which I've just tried to demonstrate.)

This isn't to suggest that I hate doing podcasts; in fact, I like doing them, and I wish I could do more of them. (Hint, hint!) And I've never had a problem with public speaking; I gave a lot of speeches when I was running for the state legislature all those years ago, and let me tell you this: giving a good speech is an exhilarating experience; it provides a mental and physical high that's far better than anything any drug can give. When I did my presentation at the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention a few years ago, I thought I was as good as I've ever been. (No brag, just fact.) Of course, in these situations I was in control, either working from a prepared text or being in command of the material.

It's another thing when you're being interviewed. No matter how well one prepares, the difficulty comes from trying to make sense without running off at the mouth or digressing into a thousand and one black holes. The first or second time I appeared on television, in a panel discussion show, I was immensely pleased afterward; I thought I'd been assertive in stating my positions, aggressive in pursuing the fallacies being offered by my fellow panelists, and appropriately witty when appropriate. Many years later, when I rewatched the broadcast, I was—well, not mortified, but sorely disappointed. Again, it happens; things are seldom the way we prefer to remember them. 

It all comes back, I think, to that fear of being unmasked, of being found out as a fake and a fraud. And again, the fact that many people, including my peers, have the same fear—well, as I said at the start, we're all kind of neurotic that way. But, in all fairness, I don't pretend to know everything. No historian worth his or her weight does, or should. In fact, I've been quite candid at times in mentioning how some of our viewers probably know more about a particular topic than I do. But what fun would life be if you weren't always learning something new? Very, very dull, I should think. I know that every time I research a show for the podcast, or look up something for one of these articles, I come away knowing more than I did at the outset. (Of course, you might suggest that this can be a pretty low bar to overcome.)

And anyway, isn't television, like movies, supposed to represent the magic of make-believe? So next time you're watching me on Dan Schneider, or any other podcast (Hint, hint!), remember that the people you see are often smarter than they appear on TV. And if I really drop the ball, be kind: don't rewind. TV  

What's on TV? Tuesday, June 19, 1962

The Andy Griffith Show isn't on Tuesday nights, but that doesn't stop this from being a good day for the show's co-star, Don Knotts. He does double duty on CBS, appearing first on The Red Skelton Show, and then, after a half-hour break, on The Garry Moore Show. An aside after the description for the Skelton show mentions that he plays Barney on the Griffith show; that's not repeated after the description for Garry Moore. I guess they figure we must have gotten the message by then. Be that as it may, this week's listings come from the Minneapolis-St. Pal Edition. 

This week in TV Guide: June 16, 1962

It's been quite a few years now since the concept of "six degrees of separation"* was coined, the idea being that everyone in the world could be connected to everyone else by no more than six degrees. The same could be said, I suppose, for articles in TV Guide. To test this theory, let's take a look at this week's issue and see if we can bring it all the way from 1962 to today in six steps or less.

*Or "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon," if you prefer.

l  l  l

1.  Right doctor, wrong role: Westinghouse Presents was an occasional series of dramas sponsored by the electronics giant, previous sponsor of Studio One. On Wednesday evening Westinghouse Presents features Margaret Leighton in "The First Day" (9:00 p.m. CT, CBS), the story of a woman returning to her former life after having been hospitalized for a nervous breakdown. Leighton's husband in the play is played by Ralph Bellamy, who the next year would star as Dr. Richard Starke in NBC's psychiatric drama The Eleventh Hour. I would presume that everything turns out all right for Leighton but, if not, perhaps she could make an appointment with Dr. Starke.

l  l  l

2. Speaking of which: The Eleventh Hour was a spin-off from NBC's enormously successful doctor show Dr. Kildare, starring Richard Chamberlain as the young intern James Kildare, with Raymond Massey as his mentor, the veteran Dr. Leonard Gillespie. The two men share the cover of this week's issue, with the feature article focusing on Massey, whose signature role prior to Kildare was Abraham Lincoln, whom he portrayed several times on stage, screen and television. (There's a wonderful story at the always-reliable Wikipedia of how a fellow actor joked that Massey wouldn't be satisfied with his Lincoln impersonation until someone assassinated him.)

Massey won plaudits for his portrayal of Gillespie, a much more nuanced and less caricaturish performance than those rendered in the movies by Lionel Barrymore. He was a distinguished actor, with two stars on Hollywood's Walk of Fame (one for movies, one for television), and Dwight Whitney's article highlights some colorful aspects of his life: an uncle was a bishop, his older brother was Governor General of Canada, and the Massey family owned the Massey-Harris Harvester Company, which we would recognize today as the manufacturing giant Massey Ferguson. His first Broadway role came courtesy of Noel Coward and Norman Bel Geddes (mid-century design icon and father of Dallas' Barbara Bel Geddes), and his movie career started with an offer from Sir Gerald du Maurier, father of the famed novelist Daphne.*

*Who, as far as I could tell, never wrote a work adapted into a movie in which Massey appeared.

Massey was a dignified actor who always invested his roles with a sense of gravitas. Sadly, there aren't too many of those around anymore.

l  l  l

3. Since you mentioned it:  In addition to his several portrayals of Lincoln, Raymond Massey also played the abolitionist John Brown in a pair of movies—Santa Fe Trail and Seven Angry Men—and onstage in a dramatic reading of Stephen Vincent Benét's Pulitizer Prize-winning poem John Brown's Body. And it's that very story, John Brown's Body, that CBS has on Thursday night at 7:30, preempting the police drama Brenner. This one doesn't star Massey, but it does feature Richard Boone as the Narrator, with Douglas Campbell as John Brown. In a couple of seasons, Boone will star on NBC in The Richard Boone Show, an anthology series with a rotating repertory cast. Despite critical praise, it only runs one season before being canceled, replaced by The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Boone finds out about it not from the network, but from the trade papers.

l  l  l

4. Her stock is rising: Actress Diana Millay, as it happens, appeared in both The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and The Eleventh Hour. But that is all in the future; today, in addition to being one of the hardest-working actresses in New York (with nearly 100 live shows to her credit), the 23-year-old is also making her mark as a day trader in the stock market. While most actresses are concerned with their reviews, Millay can be seen pouring over Forbes and The Wall Street Journal between takes. Later she'll find more success in commercial real estate and fine art.

This article is typical of so many that have run in TV Guide over the years, and you might wonder if anything ever happened with Millay or if she faded to obscurity like many a starlet from previous profiles. But in this case, Diana Millay did all right for herself, assuring lasting fame as Laura Collins in Dark Shadows. No word on how much of a killing she made in the market.

l  l  l

     Paul Anka and friend.

5. Did someone say "young star"? Any discussion of talented young performers has to include Paul Anka. At the time of this writing Anka is still 20—three years younger than Diana Millay—but in that time he's accomplished, well, let the statistics speak for themselves. At 15 he signed a contract with Don Costa at ABC/Paramount, and had his first hit: "Diana," which sold 8,500,000 copies. He followed that up with "Lonely Boy" and "Puppy Love," each of which were million-sellers. He's appeared as an actor in movies, most recently in the war drama The Longest Day, for which he also wrote the theme. According to the famed musical writing team of Comden and Green, "it is not too early to mention Paul Anka in the same breath with musical immortals." He's accessible, appearing constantly on variety shows: Sullivan, Como, Shore. He's a mean Password player. He makes well over a million dollars a year.

And he isn't even old enough to vote or drink.

The unbylined article portrays Anka as a driven businessman. He has little time for personal relationships, other than those that are part of the business. He has little time for girls, even though the broken romance is a staple of his songs. He's insecure; "I care about being liked. I want everybody to like me," he tells his interviewer. He's angered by those who resent his early success, and those who ridicule rock music in general.

What's particularly interesting about this article is that although Anka is already established as a major star in records, television and movies, his biggest hits are still ahead of him: "My Way," the Sinatra hit for which he wrote the English lyrics; "She's a Lady," the Tom Jones hit, and "Johnny's Theme," the Johnny in question being Johnny Carson. Among others. Not a bad career, hmm?

l  l  l

6. What's old is new again: Paul Anka was payed a royalty every time the theme for The Tonight Show was played—over 1,400,000 times by one estimate. Every night Johnny's monologue began with that theme, and ended with Johnny's golf swing. And that brings us to the present day, and the highlight of the sporting week.

Palmer and Nicklaus: the changing of the guard

The U.S. Open golf championship, or the National Open as it was frequently called back in the day, is, then as now, this weekend's Big Sporting Event. Then, as now, it's being shown on NBC. But whereas this weekend's tournament runs for four days, concluding on Sunday, in 1962 the tournament is scheduled for three days, concluding on "Open Saturday" with a 36-hole marathon. And while a tie in this year's tournament will be decided by a two-hole playoff after the final round concludes, the national championship of 1962 ended in a tie that was decided by an 18-hole playoff the following day. 

Golf's reigning superstar, Arnold Palmer, is the hometown hero (from nearby Latrobe), and having shared the lead after the second and third rounds, everything seems to point to his second Open championship. However, at the end of 72 holes Palmer finds himself tied with a rising star: the 22-year-old Jack Nicklaus, who had been the low amateur at the last two Opens. The two meet in a playoff on Sunday, in front of a raucously pro-Palmer crowd. Jack leads Arnold by four shots after six holes and goes on to a three-shot victory. It's the start of the Nicklaus dynasty: his first professional win, and the first of his 18 major professional championships. Palmer, who had won the Masters earlier in the year and will add the British Open in July, takes his third Masters in 1964, but after that never wins another major title.

l  l  l

And there you have it: from Margaret Leighton in "The First Day" to the U.S. Open in the present day, all in six steps. Not bad, hmm?

l  l  l

If you wanted to, you could probably go from the female news reporters of 1962 to the news stars of today in six degrees or less. But it was tough being a pioneer in television news back then, and if you don't believe me, ask the women who are out there breaking the barrier, women like Lisa Howard. She's scored major interviews with the likes of Nikita Khruschev and Fidel Castro, she's covered political conventions and news stories, and yet, Time describes her as "blonde, curvy . . . a package guaranteed to lure males," who used her "looks" to "further her career." 

And then there's Nancy Hanschman Dickerson of CBS, whose two-year career in Washington has been marked by "scoop interviews with tough politicians." According to one male journalist, though, "She uses her very feminine appeal to get politicians to open up and talk." (Oddly enough, TV Guide itself describes Dickerson as "a sleek, equally curvy brunette.") Now, it's true that unless your name happens to be Mike Wallace, being charming and delightful certainly helps when it comes to getting newsmakers to open up; equally, Fox News is living proof that journalistic ability is not a be-all and end-all when it comes to making a splash on television. Nevertheless, Howard and Dickerson, along with NBC's UN correspondent Pauline Frederick, have demonstrated that while being attractive and personable might help one get a break, you're not going to be able to stay there unless you've got the ability to handle hard news. 

L-R: Lisa Howard, Nancy Dickerson, Pauline Frederick

Howard, who prior to working in news spent time as a soap opera actress on The Edge of Night and As the World Turns, has been involved in politics for five years, as well as writing articles for The Economist. and says that her scoops have come "not because I'm pretty—it's because I'm determined, aggressive." She points to a recent interview with New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller: "I found out where he was going to be—at a luncheon at the Commodore Hotel. I showed up with the camera in front of the hotel. He fled. I took the camera up to the luncheon and plugged it in front of the elevators to catch him on the way out. He went down the back stairs. I rushed to the next elevator stop, set up my cameras in his path. I threw him an important question. He couldn't refuse to answer so I got an interview. I heard someone behind me say, 'Dammit, she's done it again.' Now, that's not because I'm a woman. It's because I was unrelenting." 

Dickerson (whose son John is today a correspondent for CBS) relates the prejudice female journalists have to live with on a daily basis. "Do you realize that the National Press Club doesn't discriminate against public relations people, against lobbyists, against Negroes, but does discriminate against women? When guests like Nehru, Churchill, Khrushchev speak at the National Press Club, we women reporters can go sit in the balcony—but we cannot be luncheon guests." She chuckles that, because men make it so hard for women to get in the business, those women who do succeed are "really very good at their work. I suspect they are far better than most of the men. That's how it always is with persecuted minorities."

Frederick, who's been in the business longer and is, of the three, the least glamorous (she's praised as one who "covers the news like a man") recalls that in her early days, she was constantly sent to cover "women's stories." "I finally asked my boss why. He said, 'We're afraid that if people hear a woman discussing anything as serious as the UN, they won't listen. A woman's voice doesn't carry authority." She snorts at the memory: "I'm pretty sure his wife's voice carried authority!" She complains that the network is trying to turn her into a glamor girl as well; "At NBC they said I should change my hair style, take off my glasses, change the type of clothes I wear. . . I don't want to be appreciated for glamor. I want to be appreciated for my work." She sighs. "Apparently people look at a woman first and listen second. When a man is on the air, they listen first. I suppose I react that way myself."

And yet women continue to make inroads; Anne Morrissy, a "girl reporter" for ABC's American Newsstand, will cover the Vietnam War for ABC, while Phyllis Hepp is currently filing reports from Africa as a stringer for NBC. One can only conclude that, whether male reports like it or not, whether networks like it or not, "glamor in TV news is here to stay." 

l  l  l

Notes from the Teletype and more:  In the works for the coming season: The Patty Duke Show, Lee Marvin's Lawbreakers, and Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. All of them made it to the small screen, and all of them make it to DVD. . . Future Oscar winner Marvin stars this week in "The Richest Man in Bogota," based on the sci-fi story by H.G. Wells, on the DuPont Show of the Week (Sunday, 9:00 p.m., NBC) . . . NBC announces that 68% of its prime-time programs for the 1962-63 season will be in color, compared with 57% this season and 41% a year ago. NBC remains the dominant player in the color television market, which proves that being owned by RCA pays dividends . . .The 1962 TV Guide Awards will air next week on NBC, headlined by Judy Holliday, Art Carney and Dave Garroway. . .Premiering this week on CBS daytime: To Tell The Truth, which adds the daytime component to its long-running nighttime run, now in its sixth season (Monday through Friday, 2:30 p.m.). The prime-time version will run until 1967, daytime ends a year later. Additionally, longtime soaps The Brighter Day (10:30 a.m.) and The Secret Storm (3:00 p.m.) expand from 15 minutes to a half-hour, leaving only The Guiding Light and Search For Tomorrow in the old radio-era length. Both will finally go to 30 minutes in 1968, bumping—To Tell The Truth.

l  l  l

By the way, if you really do want to play this game with Kevin Bacon, then step 6 is as follows: Paul Anka was in Mad Dog Time with Diane Lane, who was in My Dog Skip with Kevin Bacon. See how easy it is? TV