This week in TV Guide: August 5, 1972

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy's epic 1869 novel, is a big book—a very big book. It makes for a big movie—a very big movie. So big, in fact, that when Soviet director Sergei Bondarchuk decided to adapt it, he did so in four separate parts, each having a running time between 84 and 147 minutes, totaling 431 minutes; that's seven hours and 11 minutes for those of you keeping score at home. And when ABC shows it next week, even though it's been shortened by about an hour (and dubbed into English), it will be spread out over four consecutive nights. Definitely not for the faint of heart.

This week, in anticipation of the event, TV Guide presents an article by Tolstoy's daughter, the Countess Alexandra Tolstoy, in which she shares memories of her famous father and his thoughts on his masterpiece. It came, she says, in the midst of a period in which he could not write, and the comedy he did try to write was a failure. And then the moment came, in 1865, when he fell from a horse and broke his arm. His first thought, after regaining consciousness: "I am a writer and I am going to write something big and beautiful." He worked on War and Peace from 1865 to 1869, his wife faithfully copying the manuscript in longhand every night, while Tolstoy revised pages over and over until he "could no longer improve them." It is not true, she says, that her mother copied the novel from beginning to end seven times, but she would copy some pages twice, while others had to be recopied up to 20 times. 

Tolstoy's daughter taking dictation from her father, a year before his death, 1909

Tolstoy's research into the War of 1812 was massive. He had an entire bookcase devoted to books on the war; "He had to know how General Koutousoff mounted his horse, what kind of hands Napoleon had, and he studied the histories of Mikhailovsky, Danilevsky, Thiers, Dumas and many others"; he travelled to the battlefields to see for himself where the armies were stationed. Upon his return, he said, "I think I am going to write a description of the battle at Borodino that has never before been written."

The richly drawn characters, the Countess says, were drawn in part from Tolstoy's own family. Natasha Rostova, the main character, "has so many traits of my aunt Tania—always gay, exceedingly interested in people around her, trying to help everyone." Old Prince Bolkonsky, strict and aristocratic, "is a character who reminds us of my father's grandfather Volkonsky." And there are others; in fact, "Sometimes, entering the large living room in Yasnaia Poliana and looking at the portraits of my ancestors, hanging on the walls, I would never think about them as my ancestors, but always as the characters of War and Peace. Can you imagine that?

As he grew older, Tolstoy became more interested in philosophy, religion, his understanding of life and God. He never reread his great novels, his daughter says, he forgot about them; "Once when we were reading War and Peace aloud in the living room, my father came in and silently listened for a few minutes. 'What are you read ing?' he asked. 'It is not badly written.' We burst out laughing." For all his interest in what she refers to as "the essential beliefs of life," Tolstoy "never preached to or taught people in his novels. In one of his diaries he wrote: 'An artist should never try to preach to people through his works. . . . It should be like a ray of light that inspires people.'" For that reason, she says, War and Peace is a timeless work, one still read and performed more than a century after its composition.

I bring all this up not only in hopes that you might be as interested in seeing War and Peace as TV Guide obviously hoped its readers would be (all four parts are streaming on the Criterion Channel), but as a reminder of how much TV Guide itself has changed over the years. Of course, it's hard to believe that you'd be presenting a Tolstoy epic on broadcast television nowadays in the first place, but the idea of having the great Tolstoy's daughter (or any equivalent person today, if there is one) write an article for the magazine is inconceivable. The current version of TV Guide doesn't have any interest in publishing anything that one couldn't find in the average fan magazine at the checkout aisle in the grocery store, let alone something of genuine historical merit. Ah, well.

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I've mentioned this many times before, and I'm going to mention it again here, partly because it continues to be true and partly because I need another paragraph, but summer issues of TV Guide can often be a case of trial and error as to whether or not we'll find stimulating items to look at. After all, Cleveland Amory generally takes the summer off, Ed Sullivan and The Hollywood Palace are long gone, and our programming options mostly consist of, as you will see, reruns, summer replacements, and failed pilots. Nevertheless, this issue has fulfilled its objectives; we should take a moment to mention the many series that pass by without mention this week, from all-time favorites to others that might go unrecalled were it not for a passing reference here: shows like Mary Tyler Moore, The FBI, Cade's County, Alias Smith and Jones, Medical Center, Longstreet, Mannix, Night Gallery, and more. But whether familiar faces or newcomers, original episodes or reruns, here's what the week brings us.

On Saturday, William Shatner gets to ham it up as the heavy in tonight's rerun of Mission: Impossible appropriately entitled "Encore" (10:00 p.m., CBS). The case involves an unsolved murder of the 1930s, which was filmed on one of the Thirties-style sets at Paramount. I wonder if they had time to work in a hand of fizzbin while they were at it. If you've already seen that episode, why not opt for something original, such as The Ken Berry "Wow" Show (10:00 p.m., ABC), which follows The Persuaders! and The Sixth Sense in the network's 10:00 p.m. death slot. Robert Goulet is Ken's special guest tonight, and there are cameos by Jim Nabors and Dr. Joyce Brothers. In fact, Ken Berry had always seen himself as more of a musical-comedy actor than someone in a sitcom, so this isn't the odd fit that some might think. Nonetheless, it remains just a summer replacement. 

I've always considered sports to be as indicative as anything of the changes culture has gone through over the decades, and Sunday offers us a pretty good example of how big money has taken over. For instance, there's the "Women's Pro Tennis Tour" (2:00 p.m., syndicated), which is actually the finals of the Virginia Slims tournament in Columbus, Florida (back when TV Guide was a little more circumspect in including sponsor names, especially when it came to tobacco companies). Top pros, including Wimbledon champion Billie Jean King, compete for $25,000 in prize money, and a first prize of $6,000. If you think that's paltry, consider the "hefty" $50,000 purse in the ment's tournament, the then-prestigeous U.S. Professional Tennis Championships (1:30 p.m., PBS), from the Longwood Cricket Club in Chestnut Hills, Massachusetts. Top pros including Ken Rosewall, Rod Laver, Arthur Ash, and John Newcombe compete for a $10,000 first prize, one of the biggest in tennis! And at 5:00 p.m., it's the final round of the PGA Championship (ABC), which for many years was the final major golf tournament of the year. This year's tournament is being held at the Oakland Hills Country Club in Birmingham, Michigan, for an astronomical purse of $200,000, with winner Gary Player getting $40,000. By contrast, this year's PGA champion, Xander Schauffele, won $3,330,000 out of a total of $18,500,00 in prize money. I could say something about all this, but I'm not paid enough.

Monday offers a little something for everyone: Jan-Michael Vincent guest stars in a tale of revenge on a Gunsmoke repeat that also includes Kim Hunter, Pat Hingle, and Greg Mullavey (8:00 p.m., CBS); NBC's Monday night baseball features the Atlanta Braves taking on the Reds in Cincinnati (8:15 p.m.); Robert Lansing makes a rare comedic appearance on The Doris Day Show in a story involving double identities, something he knows about since he starred in the 1966 spy series The Man Who Never Was, which had him playing a man who takes the place of his exact double; and if you can make it to late-night, Steve Allen and his wife, Jayne Meadows, guest host for the week on The Dick Cavett Show (11:30 p.m., ABC). But you know I'm a sucker for programming coincidences, and we have another of those tonight, with Boston's WKBG airing the 1949 movie That Forsyte Woman (8:00 p.m.), starring Errol Flynn and Greer Garson, and based on the 1906 novel The Man of Property, the first book in John Galsworthy's The Forsyte Saga. And wouldn't you know—since it has a running time of two hours, you'll be able to switch over to WGBH at 10:00 p.m. for chapter 23 of The Forsyte Saga, the epic 26-part 1967 BBC series that served as one of the prototypes for Masterpiece Theatre on PBS. (You might recall that Cleveland Amory had high praise for the series in his review.) Errol Flynn's role in the movie was played in the series by Eric Porter, while the Greer Garson role went to (no relation) Nyree Dawn Porter.

Tuesday's notable is a Movie of the Week that previews one of the most influential and well-remembered shows of the 1970s, Kung Fu (8:30 p.m., ABC), starring David Carradine as the fugitive monk Kwai Chang Caine, traveling through America in the 1870s. The pilot includes Keye Luke as Master Po, and has a strong guest cast including Barry Sullivan and Albert Salmi. I recall Brooks and Marsh's Directory to Prime Time Network Shows describing Kung Fu as a "philosophical Western," which I think is a pretty good way to put it. Judith Crist doesn't have much to say about it, callit it "a never-never land that might just as well be never."; I think she missed the boat on this one. Guitarist great Chet Atkins is Arthur Fiedler's special guest on Evening at Pops (8:30 p.m., PBS), and NBC takes the prize for the special with the dumbest title and the biggest cast: The Special London Bridge Special (9:30 p.m.), starring Tom Jones and Jennifer O'Neill in a musical fantasy with appearances by Kirk Douglas, Rudolf Nureyev, Elliott Gould, the Carpenters, and Hermione Gingold. and cameos by Chief Dan George, Lorne Greene, Charlton Heston, Engelbert Humperdinck, George Kirby, Michael Landon, Terry Thomas, and Jonathan Winters. It's filmed in London, of course, and, since the original London Bridge isn't in London, in Lake Havasu City, Arizona.

We're treated on Wednesday to a number of original summer programs of varying quality, starting at 8:00 p.m. with The David Steinberg Show (CBS), the fill-in for The Carol Burnett Show; tonight's guests are Tommy Smothers and Valerie Harper. At 8:30 p.m., it's The Corner Bar (ABC), replacing Henry Fonda's series The Smith Family, which was itself a replacement for The ABC Comedy Hour. (Got all that?) With Alan King and Howard Morris as producers, and King and Herb Sargent, the show should have had more than it did; it doesn't make the fall schedule but returns the following summer (with a different lead) for another stint in the replacement game. That's followed on the same network by the sketch comedy series The Marty Feldman Comedy Machine, which features animation by Monty Python's Terry Gilliam, and includes Spike Milligan, Barry Levinson and Larry Gelbart among its writers. At 9:00 p.m., ABC concludes with The Kopykats, which—as you might expect—includes a lineup of famed impressionists, among whom we have Rich Little, Frank Gorshin, and Fred Travalena. Tonight's host, Tony Curtis, offers his own impression of Cary Grant, taken from Some Like It Hot. It's the last show of the series; stay tuned next week for "a report on strip mining." 

Thursday, Ed McMahon hosts NBC Adventure Theatre (8:00 p.m.), a collection of episodes that originally aired on Bob Hope's Chrysler Theatre anthology series. Tonight's episode, "Clash of Cymbals," was first shown on Christmas Day, 1964, but has nothing to do with the season; it's a story of romantic tension as a famed conductor judges a scholorship competition in which he's involved with one of the finalists. The story boasts a fine cast, with Louis Jourdan, Laura Devon, and Jack Klugman. It's a good thing all the episodes of Chrysler Theatre were shot in color—imagine an eight-year-old episode of anything airing on network television today. It would have been a new program for many people in 1972, though, and it's probably a lot more entertaining than, say, Failed Pilot Playhouse. Which brings us to. . . 

Friday, when CBS's network movie slot is filled by a trio of unsold pilots that provide ample demonstration, on the face of it, as to why they remained unsold. I added that proviso because you can never be sure about a show based on the brief description in TV Guide; for all I know, these were three of the most hilarious programs ever shown, and their failure to turn up on the fall lineup is further evidence, as if we needed it, of the failures of network executives to recognize talent when they see it. That said, the trio begins at 7:30 p.m. with Man in the Middle, starring Van Johnson as "a family man caught between a left-leaning daughter, a right-wing mother-in-law, and a middle-aged business partner on a youth trip." But what do you do for an encore? That's followed at 8:00 by Keep the Faith, in which "you'll learn a lot about chutzpah (the Yiddish word for gall)" in the story of "a young rabbi who tries to fire the ill-tempered temple caretaker." Bert Convy and Howard Da Silva star, with Milton Selzer and Nancy Walker; all four of them deserve better. Being in an ecumenical mood, we wrap things up with Shepherd's Flock, with Kenneth Mars as "an ex-football star trying to succeed in the ministry despite a quick temper and a bad case of foot-in-the-mouth disease." Don Ameche, who definitely deserves better (and got it), is part of the supporting cast. It's no wonder that WTIC, the CBS affiliate in Hartford, is showing Elizabeth R instead.

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Good news from Richard K. Doan—there will be no presidential debates in 1972! As soon as George McGovern won the Democratic presidential nomination last month, he challenged President Nixon to appear with him on TV. That was to be expected, considering McGovern's considerable deficit in the polls. And as soon as he did so, Nixon declined, saying that "his views were sufficiently known already to the American electorate." That, too, was to be expected, considering he had nothing to gain and everything to lose. Would it have made a difference in the end? Who knows; maybe McGovern would have won a couple more states.

Also from Doan, CBS's chief programmer, Fred Silverman, is vowing to take on NBC's reputation as the network of specials, a title that dates back to the days of Pat Weaver. He's promising "60 to 70" prime time specials in the coming season, including a minimum of three presentations on the revived Playhouse 90, a series of producdtions by theater impresario Joseph Papp, "ranging in length from 90 minutes to 'a whole evening,'" and a two-hour adaptation of Gay Talese's best-selling book Honor Thy Father. The 1972-73 season was the first that I spent in exile in the World's Worst Town™, so it's difficult for me to say, from personal experience, whether or not Silverman succeeded in his boasts. Honor Thy Father did, in fact, make it to the small screen, in a "cheapo TV movie" starring Joseph Bologna and Brenda Vaccaro, described by one critic as "an episodic, dull, and tedious foray into trying to make gangsters look sympathetic." I didn't see anything about Joseph Papp and CBS other than the time he worked there as a stage manager between 1952 and 1960. Playhouse 90, however, did return in 1973, presenting Ingmar Bergman's The Lie and Brian Moore's Catholics, the latter being an import from British television.

Meantime, the Teletype brings us news of a new made-for-TV collaboration between Darren McGavin and Dan Curtis, the duo who brought us last season's The Night Stalker. This one is called Time Killers, and is slated to co-star Wally Cox, Margaret Hamilton, and John Carradine. And indeed, this one makes it to the screen, under the title The Night Strangler, in which McGavin reprises his role as Carl Kolchak, the best reporter on the paranormal beat. George Kennedy is reported to have signed for the ABC telemovie A New American Tragedy, in which he plays a middle-aged aerospace engineer who finds himself unemployed and unemployable; it winds up titled A Great American Tragedy, but it makes it to the screen in October. Ted Bessell is reported to be returning to be returning to television as well, after the less-than-stellar performance of Me and the Chimp. The project, which he'll star in and produce, turns out to be The Ted Bessell Show, in which he plays "a newly married magazine publisher who has problems keeping his marriage and his magazine from foundering." It airs in May, 1973, as part of yet another CBS Tuesday night tryptic of unsold pilots; it's described, however, as "very adult for TV," funny, and worthy of getting a chance. Alas, no such chance comes.

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This week's starlet is Sherry Miles, who knows how to push her way onto the scene. As Leslie Raddatz recounts, her first appearance on The Joey Bishop Show came when she worked her way into the studio with some movers, and doing a number while they were setting up scenery for the show. Tongue-in-cheek, Joey suggested she come back that night and do the same thing. She did. And then there was the way in which she worked her way into a spot on Hee Haw by showing up day after day at the producer's office, performing a new routine each time. I wonder why succeeded where last week's starlet, Christopher West, failed? Who can say.

Under the tutilage of career consultant John Cestare, she's worked her way out of her innate reserved nature, going from Sherry DeBoer, "the introverted little girl from Honolulu," to Sherry Miles, crashing The Joey Bishop Show. She's appeared as the "Dodge Girl" in West Coast commercials, appeared on Pat Paulson's comedy show and Adam-12, and done a handful of movies. I Googled her under the name "Sherry Miles," and found an IMDb page that confirmed she worked through the 1970s; in other words, the average, unassuming career for the average TV Guide starlet.

But—when you Google "Sherry DeBoer," you're brought to a page called "Political Animals," a nonprofit billed as "California's leading political animal welfare organization," which DeBoer co-founded in 1997 after working as a nurse in a wildlife rehabilitation hospital and then as a state humane officer. She's worked since then as a lobbyist for humane treatment of animals, where she's found her calling. Until then, "I had nothing to show for the years of dating and pretty dressing." On campaign contribution cards, she lists "Gladiator" as her occupation and "God" as her employer. To this day, she continues her work as the president of Political Animals. Proving, once again, that while you might not succeed at what you thought you wanted, it just prepares you for the work you really need. Without that past life, would the "introverted little girl" have become a high-powered advocate in the political arena? I'll bet she pushes her way through the scene in Sacramento as well.

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We haven't done a recipe for awhile, and there are plenty of them in this week's issue courtesy of food consultant Helen Feingold, designed to remind you that just because you're eating healthier, that doesn't mean you have to give up that great flavor. Let's try some Carrot Drop Cookies, followed by Nutted Popcorn Balls. As always, if you try any of these out, let us know!

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MST3K alert: Devil Doll (English; 1963) A newspaperman, writing a routine piece about a hypnotist-ventriloquist, learns of a bizarre mystical link between the man and his dummy. Vorelli: Bryant Halliday. Mark English: William Sylvester. (Saturday, 2:05 a.m., WTIC in Hartford) Arguably the best movie ever shown on MST3K—which, granted, is a very low bar to overcome—this British cult classic boasts an appropriately creepy storyline, convincing theater scenes (rather than looking like someone's garage), and effective performances, including that of a pre-2001 William Sylvester, who's much better than they give him credit for. TV