What's on TV? Tuesday, September 26, 1967

Back on September 10, ABC preempted its entire Sunday prime-time lineup for Africa, a four-hour documentary that combined a look at the many new countries born from the end of colonialism with segments on African history and culture, featuring music by Alex North and performances from Miriam Makeba. The documentary was not only a critical success, going on to win a Peabody award, it was also a surprise ratings success, with "at least a look-in from close to 50 percent of the TV audience." At the time, the network announced an innovative plan to repeat the program in four one-hour segments, shown on four consecutive Tuesdays as part of its daytime schedule, for housewives and others who might not have been able to see the entire special when it was originally shown; today at 9:30 a.m. we see the second of the four parts. This is one of the few attempts I can recall to air serious programming during daytime (I'm assuming we all agree that The View doesn't fall into that category), and a rare example of an encore broadcast scheduled to take advantage of the publicity generated from the original airing. This and more comes from the Northern California edition.

This week in TV Guide: September 23, 1967

That's a great cover, isn't it? So vivid and alive with color. Television loved color in the 1960s, in a way it doesn't today. It's natural, considering how the networks were transitioning to full color in the late 60s, but programs exploited it, made the screens burst it a technicolor swirl that automatically anchors those shows in the decade. 

But we're not here to talk about the cover—it's the group on the cover that counts, that group being The Monkees; and this week Dwight Whitney takes us behind the scenes to document the Prefab Four's battle with the Powers That Be over control of their own music, their careers, their lives. For as Whitney points out, "the marvelous alchemy of TV converted them into the hottest new act in show business—an accomplishment rendered all the more remarkable by the fact that the boys could not play their instruments well enough to record the hit tunes that made them famous. Someone else did it for them." 

That is, of course, the story, Not as scandalous as the Milli Vanilli lip-synch scam would be, because it would be an open secret that The Monkees didn't do their own playing. And it wasn't as if the boys themselves were trying to pull one over; they were the ones pushing to do their own thing. As Whitney points out, "what they really craved was that good old-fashioned 'straight' attribute—acceptance." They were successful, to a point: they were producing hit records, they were making money for everyone concerned: the studio, record producer Don Kirshner, series creators Bert Schneider and Robert Rafelson, the network. Even the boys themselves—"corporate pawns," as one record producer describes them—make money, a whole $500 a week. And at first, they were content. But as they looked at their peers, groups like The Beatles, The Byrds, The Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead, and The Mamas and the Papas, groups that were admired by the musical world, they felt like clowns.

An incident in late June, 1966, demonstrates the challenges the series faced even before it hit the airwaves. It was an NBC affiliate gathering held at Hollywood's famed Chasen's restaurant. The head writers had written a sketch for them to perform before the executives, but the boys, whom Whitney describes as "Young, frightened, confused, [and] entirely unschooled in the nuances of handling a big success," decide to do something else entirely. Dolenz finds the restaurant's switch box and turns off all the lights. They horsed around with the microphone. They didn't sing, since they didn't have any instruments—"we were afraid to let 'em try to play," explains a behind-the-scenes participant. The affilates, already in a bad mood because things were running late, weren't impressed by "a bunch of smart-aleck kids." One executive was overheard to say on the way out, "That's The Monkees? Forget it." As a result, Whitney says, at least five key stations failed to pick up the show, with a resulting impact on the ratings.

That was only one of their problems. Kirshner relates his thoughts on first hearing the gang's sound. "They were loud. It was not the right sound, Not a young, happy, driving, pulsating sound of today. I wanted a musical sex image. Something you’d recognize next time you heard it." Davy, he felt, was good "for musical comedy," while Mike was the weakest singer of the four. On "Last Train to Clarksville," the music was performed by songwriters Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart and a handpicked group of professional musicians. Micky did the lead vocals, while Davy and Peter sang some background, Mike wasn't on it at all. When they tried Mike on the lead for "I'm a Believer," Kirschner remembers, "We had to take him off." 

By September, "Last Train to Clarksville" was at the top of the charts, while the series itself was near the bottom of the Nielsens. Tension was palpable at the studio, where Schneider had succeeded in alienating employees and reporters alike with his autocratic attitude. The New York Times was about to write a story on the boys' "musical ineptitude." Kirshner was, in Whitney's describes as "[apparently unwilling] to treat them as anything but overgrown children," and was making a ton of money off of them in the process. 

And the boys themselves were becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the whole thing. They were tired of being called "corporate pawns," tired of being taunted by musician friends and ridiculed by the press as "the rock ’n’ roll group that didn’t rock and didn’t roll." They had four Gold Records to their credit, each one representing a record that had sold a million copies, but, as Nesmith complained, "The music on our records has nothing to do with us. It’s totally dishonest. We don’t record our own music. Tell the world we’re synthetic because, dammit, we are! We want to play our own."

A showdown was inevitable. By January 1967, the boys had made their demands: from now on, they wanted to play their own music and choose their own songs, reducing Kirshner's role to than of an overseer. Kirshner tried to tell them the facts of the business, but Mike retorted with his own facts: "Donny, we could sing 'Happy Birthday' with a beat and it would sell a million records. [Your argument] is no longer valid because we are The Monkees and we have that incredible TV exposure." Absent this, he threatened to "pack up my gear, go to Mexico or Tahiti, eat coconuts and let everybody sue me." The other three fell in line behind him; as they left, Nesmith smashed his fist through the wall of Kirshner's bungalow. Later, he would say, "[I]t's horrible to be No. 1 group in the country and not be allowed to play your own records." 

The "ever-realistic" Kirshner didn't believe the group's threats. But Schneider did. The studio did as well. And less than a month later, Kirshner was out, albeit with a $35 million lawsuit to show for his estimation of how much he was worth to them. They returned from vacation to a sound-recording stage, where their new album, "Headquarters," would be, "for better or worse, all theirs." And, sure enough, it's right there at the top of the charts, one notch below The Beatles. For Nesmith, the moment came when he heard "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" on the car radio. He honked the horn for his wife and friends to come out. "Hey," he yelled, "want to sit in on a moment in history?"

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

Sullivan: Ed's scheduled guests: the Mamas and the Papas, comedians Jack Carter and John Byner, singers Florence Henderson and Ed Ames, balancers Jorgen and Conny, balancing act Jean Claude, and puppet Topo Gigio.

Palace: Host Sammy Davis Jr. presents Diana Ross and the Supremes, comedians Jack Burns and Avery Schreiber, actress Raquel Welch and jazz dancer Baby Lawrence. Sammy engages in a tap-dancing duel with Baby Lawrence, whom Sammy appeared with in the Forties at Harlem’s famed Apollo Theater. Jack and Avery do a take-off on TV talk shows,

As most of you probably know, The Ed Sullivan Show was generally shown live (except for reruns), which means that the guest lineups are subject to change right up to the time of broadcast. Despite knowing this, I've simply copied the listings from TV Guide into this feature. Well, after all, this is about TV Guide, so what would you expect. But no more! Starting this week, I'm deferring to the online episode guide to provide you with the official Ed Sullivan lineup, and a more accurate matchup against the prerecorded Hollywood Palace. Why, you may ask, am I changing my ways after nearly 15 years? To tell you the truth, I don't know. Maybe I'm just bored. As it is, there was only one major change to this week's lineup, with Ed Ames appearing instead of Jerry Vale, and the additions of balancer Jean Claude and Topo Gigio. It's not enough to catch up to Sammy Davis Jr., the Supremes, Raquel Welch and Baby Lawrence, though. This week, Palace dances away with the prize.

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

Based on what we know of Cleveland Amory's likes and dislikes, you might have expected him to have some harsh words about ABC's new sitcom, The Flying Nun. And if you'd expected that, you would have been wrong, because Cleve finds it to be "an altogether delightful fantasy," thanks to the best maker of television comedies around, Harry Ackerman (Bewitched, Occasional Wife, and Love of a Rooftop to name three).

The Flying Nun is a difficult program to assess in retrospect. It is very much of its time, said time being a very dark one for the Catholic Church. Sally Field's flying Sister Bertrille is, as Amory describes her, a "new nun," one who has already been arrested for joining in various protests; that new nun and her focus on social justice rather than spirituality exemplifies the near-total collapse in religious vocations worldwide since the close of the Second Vatican Council. (There were more than 180,000 nuns in the United States alone in 1965, the approximate time during which Sr. Bertrille would have begun her discernment; today, there are fewer than 42,000.) We're not here to discuss theology, though; that's for another time and another place; it is, however, interesting to catch a series that so utterly captures a moment in history. Except, that is, for flying nuns; I'm not sure even the most liberal orders were able to accomplish that, especiallyt after they got rid of their good habits and picked up some bad ones.

But I digress, as I am often wont to do. The success of The Flying Nun rests in large part on Field, who plays her role "cunningly, if sometimes too cutely," and she's aided by Madeleine Sherwood as the crisp Mother Superior, Marge Redmond as Sister Jacqueline, and Sister Sixto, played by Shelley Morrison. And we can't forget about Carlos, the island's playboy, who is "extremely well portrayed" by Alejandro Rey. The production values are top-flight (I couldn't resist that), the stories are charming and played relatively straight, and Field has added a fine singing voice to her other talents. The only flaw Amory can find: the pilot was a full hour, whereas regular episodes are 30 minutes, "which, in our judgment, in a show as good as this, is too short." You can take the premise or leave it, but it you take it, The Flying Nun will give you quite a ride; as Cleve says, "This has lift and thrust, and it never drags."

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Speaking of flying nuns and other oddities, the first returns on the new season are in. Networks don't put a lot of stock in these overnights, given that many viewers are still sampling the new shows; one network researcher called them "just garbage." Ad agencies, dealing with millions in clients' money, are inclined to wait a month or so to start pronouncing winners and losers; nonetheless, the Doan Report delivers the initial takes on the newcomers, delivered off-the-record from one savvy ad exec. Like Cleveland Amory, he sees The Flying Nun as "one of the sure hits," along with the "extremely well-done" Ironside, Garrison's Gorillas ("thanks to the movie The Dirty Dozen"), and N.Y.P.D. On the down side, The Carol Burnett Show "Hasn't got a prayer," nor does Dundee and the Culhane, Off to See the Wizard, and The Jerry Lewis Show ("A bomb, despite a good rating.") The influential BBD&O ad agency, using computerized data, concurs on Gorillas and Ironside as likely hits, and adds The High Chaparral, Good Morning World, and He & She. The misses include Carol and Jerry, Dundee, The Second Hundred Years, The Mothers-in-Law, and Hondo. 

It's always easy, with the benefit of hindsight, to make fun of these pundits. The Carol Burnett Show turned out to be one of television's all-time variety hits, revered to this day, but it's good to remember that Cleveland Amory wasn't all that sold on it when it premiered either. A lot of critics praised He & She, but viewers didn't; today, it's considered to have been a show ahead of its time. Garrison's Gorillas only ran for one season, one of the series hurt by the backlash against television violence, while The Jerry Lewis Show and The Mothers-in-Law at least made it to two seasons. Of the shows mentioned, the biggest hits turned out to be Ironside, which ran for eight seasons, and The High Chaparral, which survived for four. The Flying Nun? Well, that flew along for three seasons, even though it never made it into the Nielsen top 30.

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Another hallmark of the new season is the rollout of big-money theatrical movies, for which the networks shelled out plenty of dough, and there's plenty of evidenc of that this week, starting with NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies, which premieres the debut of Peter Sellers as the bumbling Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther (9:00 p.m.) Clouseau isn't the focal point of this initial offering, which features a big-name cast including David Niven, Robert Wagner, Claudia Cardinale, and Capucine; it's Sellers who makes the impact, though, with Judith Crist calling him "a comic genius" who plays "one of the most ingratiating and funny fools to have come our way." He enlivens "an otherwise faltering film" in which "everything seems wrong" whenever he's not on screen.

The 1962 remake of Mutiny on the Bounty, with a three-and-a-half hour running time, is too big to fit into ABC's regular Sunday Night Movie slot, so it's been labeled as a "special", with a starting time that's an hour earlier than normal. (8:00 p.m.) The problem with this troubled production, says Crist, is the performance of Marlon Brando as Fletcher Christian—"uneven, foppish, hitting dramatic high spots too seldom"—but you'll be impressed by Trevor Howard's Captain Bligh, with "a bite and brutishness beyond Laughton’s pudgy sadism" of the original.

CBS, not to be outdone, rolls out a pair of relative "oldies" making their television debuts: 1958's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Thursday, 9:00 p.m.), featuring intense performances by Paul Newman and Elizbeth Taylor, and a dominating performance by Burl Ives as Big Daddy; Ives missed out on a Best Supporting Actor nomination for Cat only because he was too busy winning Best Supporting Actor that same year for The Big Country. The network's second premiere, the following night, is of Alfred Hitchcock's 1959 masterpiece, North by Northwest (9:00 p.m.), starring Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint, James Mason, Mount Rushmore, and a very nasty crop duster. And don't forget Martin Landau as the very nasty bad guy trying to knock Cary off Honest Abe.

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There's more than just movies to the week, starting Saturday with The Jackie Gleason Show (7:30 p.m., CBS) and an hour-long "Honeymooners" musical that sees the gang in trouble after Ralph helps catch a wanted criminal. Sheila MacRae, who plays Alice, tells Edith Efron that it hasn't been easy taking over from the legendary Audrey Meadows: "I just couldn’t get Alice Kramden at first. Does she have nothing to do all day but yell at Ralph?" she says. "It’s the antagonistic quality against men I can’t get. I'm a worshipper of men. Audrey could look Ralph in the eye and give him hell. I can’t do that. To me, the male image is not to be torn down. I have a hard time saying some of those lines." She's been criticized for being "over-sweet" in the role, but Jackie himself is pleased; "The very fact that I’ve rehired her means that I like her very much. She can continue to play Alice as long as she wants to."

Sunday, G-E College Bowl returns for its 10th season, as the University of Wisconsin takes on Valpariso University; Robert Earle brings you all the live action (5:30 p.m., NBC). Later, as a warm-up to Mutiny, JonathanWinters hosts Holiday on Ice (7:00 p.m., ABC), the touring ice show; you'll be familiar with this kind of show if you remember those Ice Capades shows that NBC used to present. Whether or not you consider Winters to be the highlight of the show depends on how big a fan you are of ice skating.   

On Monday, Danny Thomas's drama anthology series (which our anonymous ad exec pronounced "Very disappointing") presents "The Scene" (9:00 p.m., NBC), with Robert Stack as a successful businessman who takes an opportunity to return to his first love, art, and finds himself immersed in the "now" world of hippies and bohemians at an art colony. Geraldine Chaplin, Charlie's daughter, plays the single mother he befriends, while Michael J. Pollard and everybody's favorite beatnik, Victor Buono, co-star. It's hard to know whether or not the show's portrayal of "the scene" is as wince-inducing as is usually the case in shows like this, but I wouldn't be surprised. If that concerns you, don't hesitate to skip it in favor of tonight's episode of The Big Valley (9:00 p.m., ABC), which features guest star Milton Berle.

Berle's back on Tuesday in an I Dream of Jeannie filmed in Hawaii (7:30 p.m., NBC), where he plays a conman trying to bilk Jeannie out of her scarab pin that was a gift from King Tut. Meanwhile, it's an all-Jerry Lewis night on NBC; first up is the comedian's eponymous variety show (8:00 p.m.), with guests Nanette Fabray and Al Hirt; that's followed by Jerry in The Errand Boy (9:00 p.m.), a movie which he directed and co-wrote in addition to being the star. Judith Crist, never a Lewis fan, says it "gets off to a funny start and then settles into the sort of self-indulgence that made Lewis the darling director of the French critics." Don't agree with her assessment of Jerry, but I love the slam on the French.

We're out of Milton Berle appearanes on Wednesday, which means we'll have to settle for Joan Collins as "The Lady From Wichita" in The Virginian (7:30 p.m., NBC); actually, she's one of two ladies, the other being played by Rose Marie. Doug McClure's Trampas stars in this episode, which sounds appropriate for its whimsical tone. That's followed at 9:00 by Kraft Music Hall's tribute to the Hollywood musical, hosted by Rock Hudson, with Connie Stevens, Bobby Van, and Michele Lee; you can see a clip of it here.

Ready for more Joan Collins? Besides The Virginian, she's also on Thursday's Batman (7:30 p.m., ABC) as The Siren, who's hypnotized millionaire Bruce Wayne; Batgirl and Robin try to break the spell. And thus we can crown Adam West as the luckiest man of the week, having Joan Collins and Yvonne Craig fighting over him. Later, we get a chance to see Jack Lord commiting crimes instead of fighting them; a year before Hawaii Five-O, he plays a crime czar (or is that tsar?) in Ironside (8:30 p.m., NBC) And on F. Lee Bailey's short-lived interview show Good Company (10:00 p.m., ABC), the lawyer interviews Sean Connery. 

In case you were hoping to see someone else double-dipping this week besides Milton Berle and Joan Collins, you're in luck: on Friday, Ironside's Don Mitchell guest stars on Tarzan (7:30 p.m., NBC) in a tale of two escaped convicts out to kill Tarzan and a native chief; George Kennedy and Yaphet Kotto round out a pretty impressive guest cast. And if you've got the stamina to stay up late, the second half of KRON's late-night double feature (1:00 a.m.) is Zero Hour!, the war drama that served as the basis for the all-time comedy classic Airplane!, with Dana Andrews as Lieutenant Ted Stryker.

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MST3K alert: The Thing That Couldn't Die (1958) The severed head of an Elizabethan sailor is found in a centuries-old chest—still alive and exercising an evil power. Andra Martin, William Reynolds, Carolyn Kearney. (Saturday, 1:10 a.m., KXTV in Sacramento) I won't deny it; you're in for a long, hard road with this one. Fortunately, William Reynolds, who plays our hero, goes on to a long and successful career with Efrem Zimbalist Jr. in The FBI. It just goes to show that good things come to those who wait, and bad things can die—just not quickly enough. TV  

Around the dial

Now there's a young entrepreneur hard at work honing his craft. "Check out the 16-inch screen on this beauty. Just use that dial to adjust the sound, and you're all set!" But what would they watch?

Possibly The Twilight Zone, and the fifth-season episode "Probe 7, Over and Out," starring Richard Basehart and Antoinette Bower. It's the subject of Jordon's latest at The Twilight Zone Vortex; while Rod Serling's script seems to suffer from writer's fatigue, the performances and dialogue make the episode worth checking out.

As good as that television set might be, it's unlikely it would still be in use on Friday nights in 1974, which is where Comfort TV is, with David's continuing inventory of 1970s prime time television. The Six Million Dollar Man, Kolchak, Sanford and Son, Chico and the Man, Rockford, Police Woman; back then, Fridays had television worth watching.

If you've been reading along at Cult TV Blog, then you'll know how John is currently looking at shows in which actor Denis Shaw appeared. We're now up to the 1968-70 series Tom Grattan's War, the adventures of a teen boy spending World War I on a Yorkshire farm. Check out a pair of episodes that speak well of the series as a whole.

Sticking with television on the other side of the ocean, The View from the Junkyard reviews "Get-a-Way!", a locked-room mystery from the final season of The Avengers. Roger and Mike don't always agree on their assessments of the series, so see for yourself what they think here.

At The Last Drive In, it's part two of Monstergirl's in-depth look at the career of Adrienne Barbeau, including an interview with Adrienne herself. Both the career retrospective and interview provide a fascinating look at the life and times of the popular actress.

Up for a quiz? If so, then head to Classic Film & TV Cafe, where Rick has the second edition of the "We Name the Cast...You Name the Movie!" game. I think you'll enjoy the challenge, and, possibly, the memories it brings back. No peaking at the comments section, though.

I've been seeing a lot of notices on social media about anniversaries of various series debuts, which isn't surprising since most of them used to premiere around this time of year, and at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence notes the 60th anniversary of The Munsters. And while you're there, be sure to read his obituary of Kathryn Crosby, widow of Bing, who died last week at age 90.

Speaking of anniversaries, Television Obscurities has a couple of more, well, obscure ones for you to consider: the 55th anniversary of The New People, and the 60th of The Baileys of Balboa. Neither of these are among the most famous of programs; do you have any memories of them?

Finally, how about some reading material? At Travalanche, you can learn about Sam and Friends, "the definitive book about early Jim Henson." It's a great look at Henson's first television show, and gives you a chance to see the evolution of some of Henson's great Muppets. TV  

If I ran the network, part 5

Earlier this year, I introduced a new feature, "If I Ran the Network," a series of TV concepts that would never have made it to the small screen without network executives screwing them up. If you have similar ideas, please share them in the comments section; if I get enough, I'll use them to put together a complete prime-time lineup for the fictional HBC Network!

One of the games we play, you and I, is to recast our favorite movies and TV shows of the past, using the stars of today. You see it on social media all the time: "If you were remaking [fill in the blank] today, who would you cast as [star]? We all do it, I think. Studios do it too, albeit with much higher stakes, and it doesn't often work. 

One of the risks involved in resurrecting a classic show of the past is to decide whether it wants to be a resurrection, keeping the new version as close to the original as possible; or a reboot, in which case everything—time, place, technology—is brought up to date, with varying degress of success. For example, the new verison of Frasier is, I would suggest, a resurrection, while the new Matlock is a reboot. And while it's important, if you're considering such a move, to choose correctly—resurrection or reboot—it's perhaps even more important, once you've made your choice, to stick to it. Don't backtrack, don't fudge, don't change your mind in the middle of the process.

When What's My Line? finished its original run in 1967, it wasn't but a year before the show came back in a five-days-a-week syndicated version, but make no mistake: even though the basics of the game remained the same, this was no resurrection; it was a reboot, pure and simple. Gone was the formality of the past; instead of panelists dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns and addressed as "Mr." or "Miss," we were now on a first-name basis with the celebrities, who now dressed in a much more casual manner. Instead of the urbanity (and verbosity) of John Charles Daly, the program was now hosted by  actor and veteran game show host Larry Blyden (after one year in which the host was jouranlist Wally Bruner). Gone were the wit and humor of panelists like Bennett Cerf; instead we got the much broader comedy of Soupy Sales and Nipsey Russell. Contestants no longer came on the show only to stump the panel; on occasion they would also demonstrate their line, if it was an entertaining one. As I say, a reboot rather than a resurrection.

I'm not saying this is necessarily a bad thing, mind you; Soupy and Nipsey were funny guys, and Arlene Francis was still on the panel. The syndicated version had a pretty successful run. It's just that it's missing what made What's My Line? one of my favorite programs in the first place, and it's not what I had in mind when I pondered what a new version would look like. 

First things first: nobody can replace John Charles Daly. I've said it before, and I'll say it again now: John Daly is who I want to be when I grow up. But a show has to have a host, and I always felt that one person who might have been able to pull it off, who could approximate a modicum of the urbanity and formality of the original, while maintaining control over the panel, was James Lipton. He was terrific on Inside the Actors Studio, he was smart and experienced when it came to television, and he was self-effacing enough to laugh at lampoons of his own propensity for pomposity. 

Just as John Daly had Bennett Cerf for a foil, James Lipton would need one as well, and who better to serve in the role than Charles Grodin? If he was half as effective as he was as a guest with Johnny Carson, he'd have been perfect; I also suspect that, like Cerf, he would have been very good at the game. The two women on the panel, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Robin Roberts, win their way on the panel through a combination of smarts and quick thinking; I think they both would have been very good while maintaining the sense of formality that I was looking for. And rounding out the panel, we have Neil Patrick Harris, who strikes me as someone who'd actually enjoy being on WML. There's our regular cast of characters, with plenty of room for occasional guest panelists.

Of course, neither James Lipton nor Charles Grodin are with us today, so my concept would require some retooling. Speaking of Frasier as we were, though, I could see Kelsey Grammer taking the place of either one of them; let's make him the host, though, since Frasier Crane wouldn't have settled for being a mere panelist. In place of Grodin: Anderson Cooper, perhaps? Jon Stewart? Dennis Miller? Piers Morgan, for an international flavor? 

Naturally, the network would never go for it. They'd want a panel made up entirely of stand-up comedians doing their routines, just fitting in a question here and there. Same for the mystery guest. No, I'm very much afraid that today's WML would be loud, crude, political, woke.  And forget the formal wear and means of address; nobody talks or dresses like that nowadays. 

The problem with a resurrection of What's My Line? is that it would be clever, witty, sophisticated, literate, and genteel. In other words, everything we aren't today. TV  

What's on TV? Thursday, September 23, 1954

There's nothing particularly notable about today's listings other than this: it comes from 70 years ago today. That may not seem like a big deal to those of you who take TV for granted, and perhaps it isn't. But if you're of a certain age, you can remember when TV was a modern marvel, something you didn't take for granted, and when you look at it that way, it is kind of a big deal, or at least something that gives you pause. It will probably not happen in my lifetime, but at some point we'll be celebrating the 100th anniversary of the first commercial television broadcast; we won't have a copy of that show, of course, but when TV hits 100, we'll at least be assured that it isn't going away. Today's listings come from Chicagoland.

This week in TV Guide: September 18, 1954

Throughout history, man has strugged with the great intellectual questions of the time: What is the meaning of life? Why are we here, and where are we going? What's for dinner tonight? Among those great questions, I can assure you that "When will Liberace marry?" has not been one of them.

Now, to be fair, the question of Liberace's future matrimonial status is not the focal point of the story (never let it be said that TV Guide couldn't grab you with a cover headline); in fact, the story is really about how a piano player using the name "Buster Keys" and performing in saloons and cafes at the rate of about $30 a week has managed to parlay this into an income nearing $1 million per year and living in a Hollywood mansion. 

Wladziu Valention Liberace's rise to fame started at the age of five; his parents had separated while he was still a small tot; his mother, convinced that her son was a child prodigy, worked two jobs in order to keep the family together. Everything he has done since, he says, he does "for Mom." In the summer of 1952, he got a 13-week gig as the summer replacement for Dinah Shore; that, plus a winning smile that has a magical effect on the ladies, took care of the rest. Today his concerts sell out and movie producers talk about putting him on the big screen; one discusses casting him as a boxer who also plays the piano. "Gee," he exclaimed, "I’d love to do something like that."

It hasn't always been easy for him on the way to the top; the poison-pen set in the press portray him as naive, "a perpetually grinning matinee idol, slightly on the pudgy side, who seems for all the world to be an overgrown little boy dependent on his mother," something that bothers him even in the midst of his success. "Why do they say these things about me?" he wonders out loud. "What have I done to them?" 

Many of these same columnists, upon meeting him in person, find him to be "the most cooperative of souls, wholly uncomplicated, not at all temperamental and with a rare sense of humor." An associate says that this is part of his appeal, that his "sincerity and genuine delight with what he is doing is something that comes across on that television screen." He hasn't forgotten those tough times of the past, and still thinks of himself as a simple Polish boy from Milwaukee. He's quietly generous with associates, fans, and those he does business with; when a contractor working on his home came down with polio, he "saw to it that the contractor and his family were taken care of financially." When he sees tourists "gaping" in front of his home, he invites them in and gives them a personal tour. 

But, you ask, what about the question on the cover? When will Liberace marry? It's a question those press sharpshooters have asked out loud, calling him a "Mama's Boy." I think you can read between the lines of comments like these; Liberace never publicly admitted to being a homosexual, and in fact successfully sues the British Daily Mirror for libel in 1959 after they descxribed him as "a deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavoured, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love". The paper denies they meant to imply he was homosexual (talk about suspending disbelief!); the jury sides with Lee and awards him the equivalent today of £500,000. The unidentified reporter in TV Guide judiciously says that he will not marry as long as his mother is alive, and that "all his devotion is reserved for her and his music." (He has, however, twice come close to the altar.) 

I don't know if it's possible to "explain" Liberace; we're looking at him in his days before he became something of a self-parody, wearing flamboyant, Elvis-like costumes and the like. What I do know is that I've read too many accounts about his kindness to friends and strangers for that to have been a complete act, and the Christmas episode of his 1950s show (you can see it here) is both charming and appropriately devout; he was a lifelong Catholic who considered his 1956 meeting with Pope Pius XII one of the highlights of his life. All in all, I rather liked him.

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We don't often look at the world of late-night television in these old TV Guides, and for good reason: there are no late-night talk shows on network television, no late-night network movies; as a matter of fact, there's no network programming at all, once prime time wraps up. So, you might be wondering, what do people watch? 

Milwaukee's WTMJ leads off with a variety of short informational films in the 10:00 p.m. timeslot, followed by local news and weather at 10:15, reruns of various half-hour dramas at 10:30 and 11:00, the late movie at 11:30, a news wrapup at 1:00, and movies at 1:05 (except for Thursday, when we get wrestling!).   

In Chicago, viewers have four stations to choose from: WBBM, the CBS affiliate, presents 15 minutes of news at 10 p.m., followed by a 15-minute musical program, another 15 minutes of news at 10:30 p.m., and a 15-minute interview program hosted by newspaper columnist Irv Kupcinet. At 11:00 on Monday through Thursday, there's a half-hour drama (comprised of reruns of various series from the last couple of seasons), followed by a five-minute news update at 11:30 and late-night movie at 11:35; on Friday, The Howard Miller Show, a local variety program, runs from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m.

WNBQ, the NBC affiliate, leads off with the 10 p.m. weather, followed at 10:10 by a five-minute variety show, 15 minutes of news at 10:15, 15 minutes of sports at 10:30, 15 minutes of music from Herbie Mintz at 10:45, and a variety of shows at 11:00 that take us to sign-off: voice artist Ken Nordine on Monday, Championship Bowling on Tuesday and Friday, and movies on Thursday.

WBKB, ABC's affiliate, does not have a 10 p.m. newscast; instead, we get various half-hour dramas and sitcoms at 10:00 and 10:30 (Monday through Thursday; Jim Moran hosts a local variety program from 10 to 11 on Friday. That's followed by five minutes of news, five minutes of weather, Tom Duggan's talk show at 11:10 (said to be "the first all-talk show to appear on television"), and the midnight movie.

Finally, there's independent WGN in its pre-superstation days; they lead off with a movie at 10 p.m., news and weather at 11:30, and various paid programming at 11:50, probably leading up to midnight.

Little did we know what was in store for television history the following Monday, September 27: the NBC debut of Steve Allen's Tonight. After that, late night television would never be the same.

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The college football season kicks off Saturday with a showdown between two of the nation's top programs, as Oklahoma, ranked number 1 in the preseason polls, travels to Berkeley to take on number 3 California. (3:30 p.m., ABC) Oklahoma is in the midst of their historic 47-game winning streak, which began in October 1953 and runs until November, 1957; needless to say, they come out on top today, 27-13. (By contrast, the 2024 college football season began on August 24.)

If you're looking for the professional version of the game on Sunday, you're not going to find it; the NFL doesn't start for another week. (As a matter of fact, the only pro football this week is north of the border, with NBC's Canadian football game of the week at 12:45 p.m. on Saturday.) Fear not; there's still plenty to choose from, beginning with the debut of Art Linkletter's People Are Funny ► (6:00 p.m., NBC); the radio version first aired in 1942, and the show would run on both TV and radio until 1960. On Toast of the Town (7:00 p.m., CBS), Ed Sullivan salutes the U.S. Navy with performers who are all naval personnel; previous shows had featured the Army and Air Force.

Monday night gives us one of the major dramas of the Golden Age, Reginald Rose's "Twelve Angry Men" on Studio One (9:00 p.m., CBS). Most people are probably more familiar with the 1957 movie version with Henry Fonda, but Rose originally wrote the story for television, later expanding it into a stage play and eventually a theatrical feature (as was common in the heydays of the dramatic anthology). Both versions are terrific, but I have a soft spot for the original, which stars Bob Cummings as the lone holdout trying to convince his fellow jurors of a defendant's innocence. Cummings is very good in the role, hesitant and nervous at first, but increasingly confident and persuasive as he goes on; it provides an interesting contrast with Fonda's regular, virtuous self (you have to wonder if he was acting at all), and it's good enough to win Cummings an Emmy for Best Actor. You can see it for yourself here.

Tuesday sees the season premiere of Milton Berle's Buick-Berle Show (7:00 p.m., NBC), with special guest star Mickey Rooney. Berle is still Mr. Television, but he's not the same Berle he was in the Texaco Star Theater days, presenting a more restrained and polished persona (you can read about that here) that never really caught on with his longtime fans. His ratings take a dramatic hit, dropping from #5 to #11 nationally (his first time being out of the top ten); next season Buick will drop its sponsorship, and by the end of that season the Berle show will be history.  

Things are somewhat up in the air on Wednesday; the feature attraction was to have been world lightweight champion Paddy DeMarco defending his title against Jimmy Carter (9:00 p.m., CBS), but after this issue went to press, the fight was postponed until November. As an alternative, you can catch Elizabeth Montogmery in "The Light is Cold" on Kraft Theatre (8:00 p.m., NBC), and stick with the Peacock Network for a rerun of This Is Your Life at 9:00, with Martha Raye as the honoree. 

Thursday stars off with Groucho Marx and You Bet Your Life (7:00 p.m., NBC), and continues with Four Star Playhouse (7:30 p.m., CBS), starring Dick Powell as a weary police detective who arrives home after a day in which he was forced to shoot a suspect; later in the evening, he discovers someone has stolen his gun. At 8:00 p.m. it's Dragnet (NBC), with Friday discovering that a robbery suspect is an old Army friend. Ford Theater (the show, not the building) returns at 8:30, with Robert Stack starring in "Ever Since the Day," the story of an Army vet who returns from Korea but has difficulty adjusting to civilian life, and at 9:00 it's The Lone Wolf (WGN), a sneaky-good syndicated series that's kind of an American version of The Saint, with Louis Hayward very good as jewel thief-turned-private detective Michael Lanyard. Prime time ends as it began, with a quiz show: Bill Cullen hosting Name That Tune. (9:30 p.m., CBS)

I always enjoy checking in with Edward R. Murrow's Person to Person, which airs Friday at 9:30 p.m. on CBS; it's a useful barometer for telling what celebrities are hot, and what stories are in the headlines. This week, the celebrity guest is actress Eva Marie Saint; later, Murrow visits the Washington, D.C. home of Agriculture Secretary Ezra Taft Benson. One guest you won't see with Ed is the notorious Keefe Brasselle, "popular young star of The Eddie Cantor Story," who hosts a variety special on NBC at 7:30 p.m.

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There's a show called The Telltale Clue that's the subject of this week's review by Dan Jenkins. You might not have heard of it before; it debuted on July 18 and airs the last of its 13 episodes this Thursday. I can't tell whether it was ever intended to serve as anything other than a summer filler, but if it was, judging by Jenkins' review, it failed the test. 

The series stars Anthony Ross as homicide captain Richard Hale, and the gimmick is the use of forensic evidence to solve otherwise perfect crimes. The telltale clue is introduced at some point during the show, "which the viewer is invited to dig out for himself during the commercial before the denouement." Ross plays Hale with an intensity that, Jenkins says, threatens to create "a certain amount of sympathy for the villain," one of the elements I most dislike in modern police procedurals. As Jenkins points out, "Sympathy for the villain, of course, is prohibited by law." His verdict on The Telltale Clue: "uninspired stuff, filling one of those half hours that might be better spent reading a good book." There are a couple of episodes on YouTube; you can check this one out and see what you think.

Jenkins' other review this week is of anothet series with which you may not be familiar, So You Want to Lead a Band?, which premiered in 1950 and ran, mostly during the summer, through 1955, with a revival from September 1958 to June 1959. It's hosted by bandleader Sammy Kaye, and the premise is right there in the title for everyone to see: amateurs from the studio audience are given the chance to conduct Kaye's band; at the end of the show, the audience then votes on the winner. 

Jenkins sees the show, correctly, as an anachronism, "reflecting the taste of another era and lacking the pace and polish of today’s more breathless efforts." Considering that much the same can be said when comparing the shows of the 1950s to today's output, it must really have poked along. Professional singers, such as Betty Clooney (Rosemary's sister) are brought in occasionally to provide a little more entertainment value, but, as Jenkins notes, the show's success over the years proves there must be something to the sight of a layman "waving a baton in front of a band," but whatever it is, "it has entirely escaped this reviewer's notice."

I mention these two shows not so much to get your opinion on them as to demonstrate just how many programs there are out there that have completely escaped our attention. It's reasonable to have heard of "swing and sway" Sammy Kaye; less so to be familiar with So You Want to Lead a Band? And the fact that there are actually surviving episodes of The Telltall Clue, when episodes of other, better-known, series have vanished from existence is, if not impressive, at least unlikely. The history of television is a big topic; we've probably lost much more than we've saved.

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It is reported that the "most widely circulated TV show in the world" is the half-hour drama series This Is the Life, produced by the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod, and if you've spent any time with these ancient TV Guide issues, you won't be surprised by the news. I don't think I've ever read through an issue that didn't have This Is the Life playing in at least one market, and frequently more than one. I'll bet you've seen it a time or two yourself.

This Is the Life is one of a number of similar religious programs—Insight and Crossroads are two others you might be familiar with—that use television to, in the words of the show's creator, pastor Herman Gockel, "reach the non-religious audience, people who wouldn’t tune in if they thought they were going to get nothing but religion." The show is centered around the Fisher family, a typical Lutheran family living in the Midwest, and the everyday problems confronted by them or those passing through their orbit. "We set up a problem, a conflict,” Gockel says, “which can only be resolved by the application of one Christian precept or another." The first ten or fifteen minutes are purely dramatic; once the audience is hooked, it's time for the pitch, usually delivered by the patriarch of the family, Grampa Fisher. Th pitch itself is not specifically Lutheran, but based on Christian precepts.

The series, which began in 1952, is provided free of charge to any station that wants it, and plenty do: it is currently seen by an audience of 20 million on 225 stations in the United States, plus those in Canada and Great Britain. Station managers report that the series generates a "phenomenal" amount of mail, most of it asking for help or advice; every letter is answered by the Missouri Synod. "We do get converts, but we look upon them as a pleasant by-product of the show. A bonus, you might say." An additional bonus: an impressive number of current and future stars who appear on the show.

In 1956, the show's format is changed to eliminate the Fisher family; the show remains set in "Middleburg," and the only regular is Pastor Martin, who ministered to the Fishers when the show began; this format will remain until the show ends production in 1988, dealing with issues that weren't even on the horizon when it began. Of course, you can catch some episodes on YouTube. 

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MST3K alert: The Mad Monster (1942) A mad scientist, ousted from his university, develops a method for transplanting the blood of a wolf into that of a man. Johnny Downs, George Zucco, Anne Neagle, and Glenn Strange. (Thursday, 1:00 p.m., WGN) OK, this is a really bad movie; it makes it to MST3K on merit. We do have the consolation of another episode of Radar Men from the Moon, however. And don't feel too sorry for Glenn Strange as Petro, the monster: he'll go on to play Sam, the bartender of the Long Branch Saloon, in 222 episodes from 1961 to 1973. Now that calls for a drink! TV   

Around the dial

Xt bare•bones e-zine, Jack's latest Hitchcock Project subject is Alvin Sargent, who wrote the ninth-season episode "The Ordeal of Mrs. Snow," with Patricia Collinge, Jessica Walter, and Don Chastain. It's not only a nifty mystery, but it provides a bit of social commentary on the lives of the rich and famous at the same time.

At Drunk TV, Paul focuses on the 1987 miniseries Poor Little Rich Girl: The Barbara Hutton Story, starring Farrah Fawcett as the department store heiress, Burl Ives as her grandfather F.W. Woolworth (yep, that Woolworth), and a good guest cast; weighing in at nearly five hours, it proves the old adage that nothing exceeds like excess. Your mileage may vary, but it sounds right to me.

Maddy takes on the grim, moody British spy series Callan at Classic Film and TV Corner, with Edward Woodward outstanding as the eponymous agent, assigned to deal with those who threaten UK internal security. It's far closer to John le Carré than Ian Fleming, and cynical in the extreme, which means it's just right for our time.

We'll stick with British TV as John continues his look at the roles of Denis Shaw at Cult TV Blog. This week, it's the 1958 series The Invisible Man, and the episode "Man in Disguise." By the way, one of the things I remember reading about this series, which John confirms, is that we never do find out the actor (or actors) playing the title role. We know Shaw, though, and he's perfect in this episode.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence riffs on the 60th anniversary of Jonny Quest, one of the most-loved animated series of the 1960s, moving from prime time to Saturday mornings and then into syndication before being revived in the late 1990s. In some ways it shows its age, but its fans remain thrilled by its sense of adventure.

At Comfort TV, David draws some interesting parallels between photography and television, not only by looking at how picture-taking has been a part of classic episodes, but whether the ease of taking pictures with your phone makes them somehow less special, just as the glut of television today makes these shows less special. Thoughtful, as always. TV 

TV Jibe: A candidate for today

TV  

What's on TV? Wednesday, September 20, 1972

Madigan, premiering tonight on NBC, would, at first glance, appear to be an odd choice for one of the rotating elements of the network's Wednesday Mystery Movie. In the first place, the title character, a tough New York detective played brilliantly by Richard Widmark, is killed at the end of the movie (also called Madigan) on which the series is based. Second, while the movie took place in gritty New York, the series takes place in Europe, where Madigan has been sent to battle organized crime. Added to that, the Madigan that appears in the movie is not the typically admirable character around whom you'd base a series; he bent the law, cheated on his wife, and botched the case that set up the premise for the rest of the movie. Despite all this, it was quite the coup to get the same actor to play the character in both the movie and the series, let alone an actor with the stature of Widmark. Madigan rotated with Banacek and Cool Millions, but only Banacek survived to a second season. Our listings are from New York City.

This week in TV Guide: September 16, 1972

The start to the new television season, as I've often said, used to be an exciting time, with both new and familiar vieing for attention. This week is a perfect example, as the NFL returns, big movies make their TV debuts, and new shows pop up everywhere. One of the shows you'd think would have done well is Anna and the King (Sunday, 7:30 p.m. ET, CBS), with Yul Brynner returning to the role for which he won an Oscar on the big screen, but no, it's 13 episodes and out. Maybe Walt Disney was too much competition? At any rate there's plenty more to see here, starting with those movie blockbusters.

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It may seem odd that one of the big attractions of the new TV season is the theatrical movie, but this is the way it is before cable, before streaming, when Hollywood's biggest hits used to take years to make it to your living room set. The action starts right away, with NBC rolling out In the Heat of the Night, winner of five Academy Awards including Best Picture, on Saturday night (9:00 p.m. ET) Sterling Silliphant won an Oscar for his screenplay adaptation, and in doing so demonstrates something he must have learned from Naked City: if you're going to do a genre story, no matter what kind of message you want to send, you're still going to have to respect the demands of the genre at the same time. Indeed, although In the Heat of the Night is about race relations, ignorance and prejudice, and the old south coming to terms with a new world, Judith Crist reminds us that it still succeeds as a top-notch whodunit. Of course, having Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger in the cast doesn't hurt.

Neither does it hurt Richard Brooks to have a superior cast for his 1966 The Professionals, led by Burt Lancaster, Lee Marvin, Robert Ryan, Jack Palance, and Claudia Cardinale. CBS brings it to the small screen on Thursday night at 9:00 p.m., so that everyone can appreciate what Crist calls a "supurbly entertaining adventure-suspence Western" that garnered two Oscar nominations for Brooks, for Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. It runs twenty minutes over the normal two-hour timeslot, but that includes a Republican political announcement that we're told follows the movie.

Crist's also going to give a good reivew to Tuesday's late movie, Roger Corman's House of Usher (11:30 p.m., CBS), in which Vincent Price "established himself as the nonpareil in the portrayl of intellectual and sophisticated madmen." She isn't as big a fan of Sunday night's big premiere, ABC's Goldfinger, which she writes "isn't up to the standards set by 'Dr. No' and 'From Russia with Love'," as the franchise begins to change focus "from emphatic action and vicarious heroism to sex and sadism, which outweigh the good dirty fun that initially gave Bond his adult comicstrip status with grown-ups." I understand what she means by that, though most fans rate Goldfinger at or near the top; nevertheless, as she points out, "compared with all the imitations that have come along in the past eight years—good old 007 still holds his own."*

*Oh, the things I could say but won't. 

However mild that criticism may be, it's nothing compared to what she thinks of CBS's offering on Friday night, Valley of the Dolls (9:00 p.m., followed by a Democratic political announcement). Quoting in full, "It's a bowdlerized version of the Jacqueline Susann book which provided a mawkish, trite, cheap story and smut; the movie lacks the smut but compensates by being badly acted, badly photographed and sleazily made, with a cheapjack production underlining the near-idiot literacy level of the script. Patty Duke, who scores high in the repulsive bracket, and Susan Hayward, who can count this as her horror movie (all middle-aged stars have to do one, it seems) fortunately survive their appearances herein." Well, I didn't want to watch that one anyway.

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A couple of soon-to-be classics make their debuts on Saturday night. ABC introduces The Streets of San Francisco (9:00 p.m.), with Karl Malden and Michael Douglas co-starring with The City itself. It features one of television's most dynamic opening credit sequences. It serves the series well, as it embarks on a five-season run, the latest success in the Quinn Martin stable. If you don't remember Streets from Saturday, there's a good reason why: it's on up against a CBS sitcom block that starts with Mary Tyler Moore, beginning its third season; the second half of that block is the night's second notable debut, The Bob Newhart Show (9:30 p.m.), the story of "A psychologist who can't handle his own hangups." Throw in In the Heat of the Night, and this really is the kind of night for which the VCR was invented.

Say goodbye to Sunday afternoons; the NFL is in town. The Shield kicks off its 53rd season with a doubleheader on NBC as the New York Jets travel to Buffalo to take on the Bills (1:00 p.m.); the main men in the game: Joe Namath for the Jets, O.J. Simpson for the Bills. Neither makes it to the playoffs. That's followed by the Miami Dolphins and the Kansas City Chiefs, in the first regular season game played at the new Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City. The last time these two teams met, it was Christmas Day 1971, with the Dolphins defeating the Chiefs in a double-overtime thriller. Over on CBS, it's the New York Giants and Detroit Lions, from Tiger Stadium in Detroit. (2:00 p.m.)

"The Movie Fractured You. The Series Will Have You in Stitches." That's the way CBS advertises the debut of M*A*S*H on Sunday night (8:00 p.m.). If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was going to be something like Hogan's Heroes. Of course, the tenor of the program does evolve somewhat over the years. If family fare is more your thing, Walt Disney begins its 19th season with "The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes," staring Kurt Russell*. Turning to crime, it's the second-season premiere of Columbo "Etude in Black" (9:00 p.m., NBC), starring John Cassavetes in possibly the worst impression of a conductor ever seen on television. (His performance otherwise is quirky and good, working with his old friend Peter Falk.) Elsewhere in the crime racket, Eddie Egan, the real-life former NYC detective who was the basis for Gene Hackman's character in The French Connection, is "a cop out to nab a killer" in the sixth-season opener of Mannix. (9:30 p.m., CBS) 

*Stay tuned for a Kurt Russell tie-in later on in this feature.

Monday Night Football begins its third season with a major-league showdown between the Washington Redskins and Minnesota Vikings (9:00 p.m., ABC), but right before that ABC features another of its new series, The Rookies (8:00 p.m.), starring Georg Stanford Brown, Michael Ontkean, and Sam Melville as the rookie cops, Gerald S. O'Loughlin. as their mentor, and Kate Jackson as Melville's wife. And do you remember Bill Cosby's variety show? I didn't either, until I was reminded of it here; his big-name guest lineup includes Peter Sellers and Lily Tomlin. (10:00 p.m., CBS)

On Tuesday, WCBS presents the season premieres of two old favorites in new skins (syndicated skins, that is). First, at 1:00 p.m., it's Larry Blyden as the host of the all-new What's My Line? Then, at 7:30 p.m., it's Steve Allen hosting I've Got a Secret. Both harmless entertainment; neither come close to the sophistication and star power of the originals. Later in the evening, The Bold Ones (9:00 p.m., NBC) has the conclusion to one of those crossover episodes that you can only get when diferent series share the same television universe. This time, "The New Doctors" wraps up a storyline that began last week on Ironside; seems a surgeon's (Vic Morrow) daughter has been kidnapped, and only Raymond Burr and his gang can get to the bottom of it. I'm betting on the Chief.

Wednesday's a big night with several new series, including The Paul Lynde Show (8:00 p.m., ABC) with Lynde woefully miscast as a family man. Later, after ABC's Wednesday Movie of the Week, it's the second episode of The Julie Andrews Show (10:00 p.m.), with guests Carl Reiner, Cass Elliot, and Alice Ghostley joining Julie in a wild take-off of All About Eve.

Meantime, NBC has a couple of rookie series that, unfortunately, fail to return for seconds. The night begins with Adam-12 (8:00 p.m.); that's followed by Richard Widmark, reprising his movie role of the tough New York cop Madigan, as part of the network's new Wednesday Mystery Movie (8:30 p.m.); after that, it's SEARCH (10:00 p.m.), a sadly underrated show featuring Tony Francoisa, Hugh O'Brian, and Doug McClure alternating as leads and Burgess Meredith as the hub that keeps them together. 

CBS doesn't need anything new, with a lineup that includes The Carol Burnett Show, Medical Center, and Cannon. But Medical Center (10:00 p.m.) does catch my eye, because something tells me Chad Everett's Dr. Gannon is going to have a very tough day: "Mrs. Slade has a happy secret: after many years of marriage, she is finally pregnant. Mr. Slade has a secret, too, and the implication isn't as happy—three years ago he had a vasectomy." Oops! (Evidentelly, the wife didn't have to give written concent back in those days.) Yes, I think Dr. Gannon's going to need some aspirin before this hour is over, along with a stiff drink.

Thursday gives us the series that becomes the surprise hit of the year. The Waltons (8:00 p.m., CBS), based on the Christmas movie The Homecoming, isn't expected to amount to much in the ratings, but the network puts it on the fall schedule to appease critics (including those in Congress) who've harshly criticized the network for its Rural Purge; the suits figure it won't be much more than fodder for NBC's successful Flip Wilson Show, but the joke's on them, as The Waltons goes on for nine successful seasons, hitting number one in the ratings. On the other hand, ABC rolls out another of those wheel shows, but unlike SEARCH, this one is made up of three separate shows, none of which make the grade: Jigsaw, which debuts tonight (9:00 p.m.) stars James Wainwright as a California state investigator; he'll be alternating with Robert Conrad in Assignment Vienna and Laurence Luckinbill in The Delphi Bureau. 

Friday gives us an example of another staple of the new television season: a multi-episode spectacular. Tonight, in the first of a three-part adventure, The Brady Bunch takes a vacation in Hawaii. (8:00 p.m., ABC) Of course, if you think some fun and sun is all there is to it, you've got another think coming, I recommend Howard Cosell's guest spot on The Odd Couple (9:30 p.m., ABC). NBC presents a lineup that, save Sanford and Son, is entirely new: The Little People (8:30 p.m.), with Brian Keith as a pediatrician and Shelley Fabares as his daughter; Ghost Story (9:00 p.m.), a horror anthology hosted by Sebastian Cabot; and Banyon (10:00 p.m.), a period detective piece with Robert Forster. The Little People, renamed The Brian Keith Show, manages to survive for two seasons; Ghost Story (renamed Circle of Fear, and without Cabot) and Banyon do not. If you're staying up late, I suggest heading over to WNEW at 1:30 a.m. to catch The Stranger, a superior suspense movie starring Orson Welles (who also directed) as a Nazi war criminal masquerading as a teacher, Loretta Young as his fiancee, and Edward G. Robinson as the United Nations agent hunting Welles down. 

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Not to be left out, ABC rolls out its new Saturday morning lineup this week, apparently making it the "place to be," at least on Saturday mornings. Compared to cartoons of the past, some of which can still be seen Saturdays on other networks, this lineup strikes me as—what? Trendy, taking advantage of headlining music groups? (The Jackson 5ive, The Osmonds.) Cynical, spinning off from the network's own primetime shows? (The Brady Girls, with magic myna bird and pandas thrown in for good measure.) Unimaginative, regurgitating some of those old, favorite characters in an hour-long story with a social message? ("Yogi Bear, Huckleberry Hound, Quick Draw McGraw, Top Cat, Magilla Gorilla and his other animal friends sail away from Jellystone National Park to escape pollution.") Perhaps all three? It strikes me that this would have been about the time I stopped watching Saturday morning cartoons, which is a shame because I still enjoy the best of them (Rocky and Bullwinkle, Alvin, Felix the Cat, Bugs Bunny), but I'm afraid most intelligent children will see right through some of this claptrap.

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The Doan Report offers a recap of the Munich Olympic Massacre, which had only happened the past week. ABC's coverage of the Games, which started out in color and pagentry, ended in a "spectacle of horror," but the network acquitted itself magnificently, with Jim McKay and Howard Cosell "suddenly cast in the role of headline-news reporters." NBC and CBS scrambled as best they could to provide coverage, but were limited in the amount of satellite time they were able to access, although CBS was able to get an hour, using coverage from the German police TV camera that ABC also had. Hard to imagine now, that one network could have virtually exclusive live coverage of a breaking news story like that, but in 1972 it wasn't all that easy to get satellite time under the best of circumstances; as I recall, ABC faced the same challenges in staying on the air.

Doan also notes that NBC is engaged in a "nation-wide search" for someone to host their proposed new late-late show, Tomorrow. While entertainment is forseen as being part of the new program, the emphasis will be on talk, often on "very important subjects of a nature that might not get discussed on TV at an hour before 1 A.M." No speculation as to the host will be, although it might be someone from "outside show business." (As indeed it is. ►) ABC and CBS are said to be "taking a wait-and-see attitide" toward NBC's new venture.

As for the new season, experts don't see any new trends coming from the new series; All in the Family, Marcus Welby, M.D., and Flip (Wilson) are expected to once again lead the pack. The heavy favorite among the new series is CBS's Bridget Loves Bernie, which lasts only a single season. The real interest lies with public reaction to the so-called "New Permissiveness." "Titillations with the gay life, abortion, unmarried sex and such will abound on TV in the weeks ahead. It's going to induce either drooling or damnation, or both."

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Two months later. . .

Some additional industry news from the Teletype: Here's a program I remember, from the day after Thanksgiving, 1972. They don't have a name for it yet, but it will be called "The Jerry Lucas Super Kids Day Magic Jamboree," filling three hours for ABC on the morning after Turkey Day, and it will feature the New York Knicks star performing magic tricks, passing along basketball tips, and "display[ing] his freakish memory (which allows him to memorize hundreds of pages of telephone directories.)" As I recall, Lucas would go on talk shows and memorize the names of everyone in the audience, and one of his greatest feats was the ability to take any word, at the instant it was spoken, and alphabatize it. He was a very good player, but disarming and fascinating in all these other ways. Sports Illustrated had two interesting articles on him; this one at the height of his memory fame, and this one from 30 years later telling of the interesting turns his life has taken since.

Also: Neil Diamond's received offers from all three networks to do music specials for them. He's mulling them over, but as I recall, he winds up going with NBC, doing a special called "Neil Diamond at the Greek Theatre."  Jerry Lewis plans an appearance on Sonny & Cher on CBS, including a skit in which he and Sonny play chess. (It happens to be the episode that airs this Friday.) And finally, Robert Young plans to star in a TV movie for ABC, entitled "All My Darling Daughters." Now TV Guide doesn't mention this, but I've heard they were going to call it "All My Darjeeling Daughters," but Young said it wasn't his cup of tea. . .

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Believe it or not, NBC's Laugh-In is about to start its fifth season. (Sock it to me.) Almost the entire supporting cast has turned over in that time, with only Ruth Buzzi remaining on the show, and Leslie Raddatz takes the opporunity to catch up with the "six who bowed out," and gets some surprising insights along the way.

Of the six, Goldie Hawn has, by far, enjoyed the most successful post-Laugh-In career, having appeared in three movies, and winning an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for one of them, Cactus Flower. "There was an excitement about Laugh-In then," she remembers of the early days. "There were no egos. Everything was funny." She explains that when she first started, she had a hard time reading the cue cards without giggling, and producer George Schlatter "decided to make something of that." She remembers the camaraderie of those days fondly: working until 2 a.m., singing songs because they'd gotten so slap-happy. "But it had to end sometime," she says wistfully. When the show did its hundredth show, she was the one who didn't come back, because "you can't recapture the past."

Judy Carne only appeared on Laugh-In for two years, during which time she'd do anything for a laugh. Besides being dunked in water, she was sawed in half and shot from a cannon; "I guess I'm just a frustrated stuntgirl." She regrets having left the show when she did. "I was emotionally involved and disturbed, and I felt I had to go. Now I can sit back and view things, and I realize it was not too smart a move." Since then, she did a Broadway show that was less than successful ("The Boy Friend"), and spent six months doing what she called a "disastrous" night-club act. "And I was married for three months." 

Jo Anne Worley remembers that halfway through the first season, "Goldie and I decided that we weren't getting anywhere. Then one day we went shopping together, and we were mobbed. That changed our minds!" She left the show at her agent's suggestion, and since then "I've guested on practically every show and done commercials and been a semiregular on Andy Williams' show." She also spent time in London, doing shows with Tom Jones and Engelbert Humperdinck. "I don't miss Laugh-In as such. It was the relationship that was important—we all laughed and had such a good time." 

Arte Johnson was the only member of the cast to win an Emmy, and though he's most remembered for his "Verrry Interesting" WWII German soldier, he recalls how it took 40 minutes for him to be made up for the old man, another of his signature characters. "Doing him was a tremendous psychological problem. It was always the old man, not me—I stayed constant." He left Laugh-In to pursue other opportunities; "You reach a certain plateau, and you want to reach a higher plateau." He never had time for anything else while on Laugh-In, but since then, "I've done a pilot, two specials, a lot of guest shots, and some summer theater." Like the others, he has fond memories of his time: "It was sheer mayhem sometimes, but nobody in the history of show business ever had the opportunity we did."

Henry Gibson seems to have been an unlikely member of the cast, having studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts and earned a dregree in drama from Catholic University, but his entrance to TV was as "a bucolic poet from the Deep South." He recalls his first meeting with Schlatter; after sitting quietly whle Schlatter juggled phone calls from Milton Berle, Frank Sinatra and others, he decided something drastic was needed. "I had paid a stuntman $50 once to teach me a triple flip for a show, so finally I pretended to faint and then did the flip George put down the phone and said, 'I don't know who you are, but you're hired.'" "I hated to leave the show, but after four years you have to make a choice." He wanted a chance to return to his acting roots, and has guested on several shows since, as well as played the voice of Wilbur the pig in Charlotte's Web.

Alan Sues worked in night clubs prior to Laugh-In; his funniest memories involve things that weren't planned, such as the time he was supposed to "fly" in for a scene and was left hanging on wires when everyone else broke for lunch. He considered himself a revue performer rather than a comic, a situation he considers more of a challenge for his abilities: "On TV, they just turn up the laugh track, but out there [on stage] you'd better be funny." Like some of the others, he's done guest shots and some summer stock; "I miss Laugh-In, but when I think about going through tha ttrap door, I don't know."

Only Ruth Buzzi is still on the show (along with Dan Rowan and Dick Martin, but as Judy Carne remembers, they were "never part of" the closeness that the others felt working together as part of a repertory company. "I can see why the others left the show," Buzzi says, "but I don't think anything would have happened for me that hasn't happened anyway." She's done a failed plot, some commercials, and some guest shots; "Now, I'm the last of the red-hot mammas. In my mind, it's a whole new show"

It's difficult, from the perspective of 50+ years, to avoid comparing the sitaution to that of the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players on Saturday Night Live, although the latter left as a group rather than individually. SNL has persisted since then (although Lord knows why), with cast members coming and going, but they're always compared to the originals. Much the same could be said for Laugh-In; despite an effort to reboot the show with a new cast, everyone looks back to the the six who left and the one who remains. 

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MST3K alert: Revenge of the Creature (1955) A young scientist sets out to capture the Creature and use him for scientific studies. John Agar,  Lori Nelson, John Bromfield. (Saturday, 2:30 p.m., WCBS in New York City). One of MST3K's favorite whipping boys, John Agar (aka Mr. Shirley Temple) is out-acted by the great Ricou Browning, and Lori Nelson takes the place of Julie Adams. There's a reason why this movie, and not the original, is on MST3K. On the other hand, we're introduced to Professor Bobo and The Nanites, so how bad can it be? Or is that just a rhetorical question? TV