October 30, 2024

Just a reminder




The above is a screenshot from a Nixon for President commercial in 1968. I've always thought it one of the most effective campaign taglines in modern political history, and I say this not for any partisan reason, but because it gets the message across in a way you can't miss. I suppose today's marketing consultants would call it too wordy, but considering how much of today's politics is a result of those very consultants, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. 

At any rate, my point in referencing this is that Election Day is next Tuesday, and even though it's become kind of outré to wait until then to cast your vote, I'm kind of old-fashioned that way. So for those of you who have yet to go to the polls, take this as a reminder that all elections are important. If you think one candidate can cure all the world's ills, bring global peace, reform the economy, end crime, and eradicate poverty, let me tell you, that's not going to happen, friend. Those issues aren't going to be solved by any earthly party.

But as far as your civic duty is concerned, take a few minutes between now and then and vote for the candidate of your choice. Or, if you prefer, vote against the candidate that's not your choice. Either way, your whole world—and mine—might depend on it. And anyway, you wouldn't want to see all that money go to waste, would you?  TV  

October 28, 2024

What's on TV? Wednesday, November 3, 1954




I know I've written about this before, and I'll probably do so again when there's nothing else in particular to point out, but I'm always amazed by how many programs there were on television, particularly in daytime. Most of the soaps were only 15 minutes (a carryover from radio), and almost everything else was a half-hour, but with occasisonal news updates thrown in. Look at WGAL, for instance: 19 programs between noon and 6:00 p.m. And WPTZ has 17 programs in primetime. Do you think networks even have that many ideas for programs nowadays? Judging by how much of the day is turned over to news, I doubt it. The news for you is that these listings are from the Philadelphia edition.

October 26, 2024

This week in TV Guide: October 30, 1954




Robert Montgomery is a man of many talents: noted film actor, producer and director (including two nominations for Best Actor), Tony Award-winning director, twice president of the Screen Actors Guild, host and occasional star of Robert Montgomery Presents, one of the longest-running and most prestigeous of the early drama anthologies, and if that weren't enough, father of Elizabeth Montgomery. And now, add to that: presidential advisor. 

Late last year, Montgomery was invited by old friend Jim Hagerty—who also happens to be President Eisenhower's press secretary—to breakfast at the White House with Ike and a half-dozen other Republican operatives. They discussed effective communication on television; after breakfast, the meeting moved to the Oval Office. At the end, he was offered the position as a staff consultant to the president. The position includes an executive office in the White House, along with a secretary; he spends a couple of days a week at the job. 

Montgomery stresses that he is not, as he has been referred to in the press, Eisenhower's "coach." He hasn't tried to change or "glamorize" the president, or to change his gestures or mannerisms. "Mr. Eisenhower," he says, "is a public figure, not an actor. He has a right—and an obligation—to appear to the public as he is; not as someone else wants him to appear." His job, he says, is to "help project Mr. Eisenhower’s own personality and thoughts in as natural a manner as possible."

Montgomery spent three months studying the president's habits off-camera. "All right, these are the methods he, as an individual, ordinarily uses to convey what he wants to say." Montgomery's job is to incorporate those methods to television, to not worry about what he's been told to do, but to do what he finds easiest and most comfortable. When Eisenhower voiced concern about inconveniencing cameramen, Montgomery told him, "Whatever you want to do, Mr. President, do. It’s the technicians’ obligation to make you comfortable."

   The student and the teacher
Over the past year, Montgomery has worked to raise the lecturn when Eisenhower addresses Congress, so that Ike didn't have to bend over, and to give the television audience a better look at his face. He changed the president's glasses from heavy, horn-rimmed to a more flattering shape and lighter rims. When Montgomery noticed that Eisenhower frequently paced back and forth behind his desk and occasionally wen to the front to sit on the edge, he suggested that he do the same when making informal talks on TV. He had a layer of felt placed over the president's polished desktop to keep lights from reflecting into his eyes, and he coordinates the president's wardrobe to make sure it stands out from the backdrop from wherever he's speaking. He checks camera and light locations, does sound checks, and makes sure that stand-by cameras and audio are ready. He also recommend that Eisenhower use a teleprompter, but only on certain occasions; ideally, he uses a cue sheet with only about 40 words in his notes for a 30-minute speech. 

For all this, Montgomery accepts no salary or expenses. He considers working with the president to be "his most exciting assignment and the high point of his career." Mr. Eisenhower, he says, is a man of wisdom, ability, integrity, and modesty; "It’s important that these qualities be projected to the people who have elected ohim." He concludes, "If you believe so thoroughly in a man and his program, how much better can you do in point of service?" I think there are more than a few candidates out there who could benefit from Montgomery's council. 

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Let's stay in the political arena; Tuesday is election day, and even though it's a mid-term election, with the presidency not at stake, all three networks plan to cover the vote-counting at least until control of both houses of Congress has been decied. 

Cronkite and crew during 1952 coverage 
On CBS (beginning at 9:00 p.m. ET), Walter Cronkite heads a team of veterans from the 1952 election, including Edward R. Murrow, Douglas Edwards, Charles Collingwood, Eric Sevaried, Ron Cochran, and others. Included is the Univac computer, "the electronic brain that calculates and projects the trends," first introduced with "some success" in 1952. The network plans cutaways to New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, and Washington D.C. 

Over at NBC (9:30 p.m.), Dave Garroway, "who can be counted on to remain cool amidst the most hectic proceedings," will anchor the coverage, aided by John Cameron Swayze, Roy Neal, David Brinkley, Joseph McCaffrey, Ray Scherer, and others. They'll have remotes from Republican and Democratic national headquarters. Both CBS and NBC will break for local updates for the last five minutes of each half-hour.

And then there's ABC. While WFIL, the ABC/DuMont affiliate in Philadelphia, plans to break into local programming to cover the results in the East, the network plans to deliver "complete nationwide returns" beginning at midnight, with John Daly anchoring from ABC's New York studios. It's ironic: even though ABC's news division was widely derided for most of its existence (at least up until the late 1970s), their mode of limited coverage of events such as political conventions and elections has become the norm for networks nowadays. Of course, that's not what they intended at the time . . . 

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It's remarkable just how much you can talk about Barry Nelson without actually talking about Barry Nelson. What do I mean about that? Point #1: Nelson is on the cover of this week's issue, along with Joan Caulfield, with whom he co-stars Saturday nights on CBS in the sitcom My Favorite Husband. Now, if that show sounds familar to you, it's probably because My Favorite Husband was a radio comedy, airing from 1948 through 1951, starring Lucille Ball as a "slightly zany housewife" married to bank executive Richard Denning, and that series eventually evolved into I Love Lucy. While both the network and sponsor Jell-O wanted Denning to continue on the show when it moved to TV in 1951, Lucy insisted on casting Desi Arnaz as her on-screen husband. The show lost Jell-O as a sponsor, but gained television immortality, which I would figure as a pretty good trade-off. The actual My Favorite Husband, with the original radio premise, finally made it to TV in 1953 with Nelson and Caulfield, running for two-and-a-half seasons. That's a good-sized paragraph about Barry Nelson that actually has very little to do with him.

Point #2: Nine days prior to this issue—that is, October 21—Nelson starred in the third episode of the mystery anthology series Climax!, "Casino Royale," co-starring Peter Lorre and Linda Christian. If that sounds familiar to you, it should: it's based on the novel of the same name, written in 1953 by Ian Fleming, and Nelson plays Fleming's hero, James Bond. Yes, that James Bond. In this version, Bond is an American agent, working with a British contact named Clarence Leiter, to subdue arch villain Le Chiffre, played by Lorre. Nelson thereby became the first actor, of any nationality, to play Bond, and if he seems somewhat miscast in the role, I don't think he can be held to blame. (But you can watch it here and decide for yourself.) No adaptation that features "Jimmy Bond" is going to capture the essense of the Bond we've all come to know and love. Despite its proximity to the Climax broadcast, the TV Guide article doesn't even mention "Casino Royale." Granted, the Bond stories didn't really become popular in the United States until JFK mentioned how much he enjoyed them, but it's still funny to think of it flying so far under the radar.  That's two paragraphs about Barry Nelson, and still we haven't really talked about him.

So: we're told that Barry Nelson looks a lot like "an aging Tom Sawyer," but doesn't act like one. He's "actively intelligent," devoted to acting as a profession in which "he knows he is competent, hopes to improve, and works constantly toward bigger and better things." Following his discharge from the Army, he made his mark on the stage, culminating with three years on Broadway in "The Moon Is Blue." But "An actor can't afford to stay very long on Broadway," he says. "In order to become known, he must appear on the mass media—on television or in pictures." With that in mind, he made the move to TV and My Favorite Husband. He finds live television "too much of a grind" and calls the process "a dull, tedious business, but he says this without rancor or complaint—it is, for a professional actor, simply a fact.

Nelson maintained an active and varied career throughout his life: returning to Broadway as both actor and director (including a Tony nomination), was one of the regular panelists on To Tell the Truth, served as a host on NBC Radio's Monitor in the mid-60s, acted in several movies (including Airport and The Shining), and was a guest star on many television series, with his last coming in an episode of Murder, She Wrote in 1989. He died in 2007, shortly before his 90th birthday, with a pretty good career to his name. 

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Speaking of television as we were—which is not surprising since this is a television website, after all—Frank De Blois is complaining that Hollywood movie studios are taking away too much talent from TV: female talent, to be specific. It's not surprising in a historical context, given that television in its early days was, by-and-large, populated either by former movie stars who'd maxed out their stardom, or up-and-coming talent looking to make it big in the movies. (There's also a select group of visionaries who, seeing television's potential, got into it early on, from the production side as well as acting. But since that doesn't fit into this story, we'll just pretend they don't exist.)

MGM, Paramount, RKO, and Columbia have already made off with "choice properties" who made their start on TV: Grace Kelly, Anne Francis, Rosemary Clooney, and Betsy Palmer, to name a few. For example, just two years ago, the future Princess of Monaco was one of the "bright stars" on television, having made her mark on Studio One, Suspense, and TV Playhouse. She then headed for Hollywood, promising to return to TV "after a picture or two." Since then, she's made High Noon, Mogambo, Dial M for Murder, and Rear Window, and she'll win a Best Actress Oscar for the about-to-be-released The Country Girl. I wouldn't look for her to return to television any time soon.

In retrospect, though, I'm not sure that Grace wasn't the exception, rather than the rule. Anne Francis had a hit in Forbidden Planet, but a diet of low-budget movies saw her return to television, which I think really suited her better. (Honey West, anyone?) Rosemary Clooney started out with Arthur Godfrey and Ed Sullivan, and had a smash with White Christmas, but that was it; her greatest success came as a recording star, with a few guest spots on TV. Likewise, Betsy Palmer is far better known as a regular on I've Got a Secret and The Today Show and for her appearances on stage; there is, of course, Friday the 13th, but that's a ways in the future. Other names, such as Rita Gam and Joanne Jordan, never achieved megaton stardom, and Eva Marie Saint (who'd win an Oscar for On the Waterfront and would win hearts in North by Northwest) never planned on a long-term film career; she preferred "a voice in her own future as an actress." Still, there's plenty of talent out there, and as long as they continue to succeed, Hollywood will continue to come calling.

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It's a quiet week on the old tube, with election coverage being the dominant feature, but there's always something worth mentioning. For instance, on Saturday, the college football game of the week features a matchup from a time when the Ivy League was still relevant in major college football: Penn State at Penn, from Franklin Field in Philadelphia. (2:00 p.m., ABC) Penn State was well on its way to becoming the dominant team in the East, while Penn played a schedule that included teams like Army, Navy, Duke, and Notre Dame. Not a surprise that the Quakers would finish the season 0-9, losing to Penn State 35-13 in one of their better outings.

Sunday, Hallmark Hall of Fame (5:00 p.m., NBC) presents a story we'd probably never see today: "The Path to Peace," newspaper editor Horace "Go West, Young Man" Greeley's drive to have former Confederate President Jefferson Davis freed from federal prison. You'll notice that title again: reconcilation is always a path to peace, but unfortunately, too many people today seem to think that reconcilation only goes one way—theirs. Coincidentally, tonight's You Are There (6:30 p.m., CBS) tells the story of Abraham Lincoln's selection as the Republican candidate for president in 1860. 

Speaking of Robert Montgomery as we were, it would be wrong to neglect this Monday's Robert Montgomery Presents, "The Gentleman" (9:30 p.m., NBC), the story of "A man . . . obsessed with the way things used to be. Rather than accepting and appreciating the present, he sadly retreats to living his life in the past." It sounds like the story of this blog, doesn't it? Otherwise, Benny Goodman and his quintet have the joint jumping on (Sid) Caesar's Hour (8:00 p.m., NBC), with regulars Carl Reiner and Howard Morris.

Tuesday provides us with a final bit of politicking, albeit in a non-partisan vein; The Morning Show (7:00 a.m., CBS) presents a filmed message from President Eisenhower urging people to get out and vote, regardless of which party they support. For those of you too young to remember, there was a time when everyone voted on the same day unless they could demonstrate they'd be out of town on Election Day, in which case they got an absentee ballot. I kind of miss those days. . . Later, on The Garry Moore Show (10:00 a.m., CBS), Garry interviews his congressman, played by Durward Kirby.

On Wednesday, it's the second-ever episode of Disneyland (7:30 p.m., ABC), and Walt has a treat in store: the television premiere of Alice in Wonderland, the 1951 animated feature film with a wonderful list of voice talent, including Ed Wynn as the Mad Hatter, Sterling Holloway as the Cheshire Cat, Jerry Colonna as the March Hare, and J. Pat O'Malley as Tweedledum and Tweedlede. Sure, it's abridged, and it's shown in black-and-white, but it's probably still the best show on TV tonight.

Thursday's highlight can be seen on Climax!, the show that gave us "Casino Royale" a couple of weeks ago. This time, it's an adaptation of Lucille Fletcher's1943 radio thriller Sorry, Wrong Number (8:30 p.m., CBS), starring Shelley Winters in the role played by Agnes Moorhead in the original broadcast and, perhaps more famously, Barbara Stanwyck in the 1948 movie adaptation (for which Stanwyck was nominated for Best Actress). Fletcher, who also wrote the movie screenplay, did the television adaptation as well, so I have great confidence the quality remained high. (Orson Welles called the original "the greatest single radio script ever written.") Fun fact: the music for the TV version was composed by Fletcher's former husband, Bernard Herrmann.

We'll stick with radio—kind of—to end the week: on Friday's Today Show (7:00 a.m., NBC), Dave Garroway's guest is "the father of radio," Lee DeForest. It's said that they'll be discussing DeForest's lastest invention; now, I haven't found any info as to what that might have been, but I can imagine Garroway enjoying the interview immensely. Besides the fact he started on radio, he would have been fascinated by the science and technology of radio, not to mention the other areas in which DeForest worked.

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At some point along the way we apparently decided to become a completely homogeneous culture. There are exceptions, of course, some natural resources and local landmarks unique to a given area, but for the most part we seem determined to make every city in every region of the country look identical—and identically bland—to every other city in every other region: the same chain stores in the same strip malls designed in the same architectural style.

Television, in its role as a mirror of culture, is no different. Thanks (?) to some of our streaming providers, it's now easy to check out local newscasts from various parts of the country, and I defy anyone to find substantial differences in the broadcasts: they use the same fonts, the same color schemes, the same types of intro music, the same style of logo, the same backdrop showing their respective city skylines (themselves becoming less and less distinctive). The anchors have the same, vaguley nondescript accents, they wear the same clothes (female anchors even share cute outfits online), and they read from virtually identical scripts. 

Of all the things that used to give a station its unique identity, the station-identification slide was one of the most distinctive. This week, TV Guide shares some of those slides from around the country, as stations show off their mascots, local landmarks, regional color, and more. 


Even after the artistic renditions became more sophisticated, station IDs maintained their distinctiveness. There were specialized versions for various holidays, photographs capturing seasonal representations of local landscapes, skylines, and the like. I don't even know if there are station ID slides anymore other than at the start of the local news; it seems as if we just go from one program to another, and heaven forbid we should take any time away from commercial opportunities. There's no use crying over spilt station logos; still, it does seem as if we've lost something, doesn't it? TV  

October 25, 2024

Around the dial




This week begins at Reelweegiemidget, where Gill reviews Bionic Ever After, the 1994 telemovie that wraps up the saga of the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman love story. Hopefully.

At Cult TV Blog, John takes a rare excursion into the world of Monty Python and the final series episode, "Michael Ellis." And I wonder if you really can purchase a flame thrower in a department store? I'll have to head over to Wal-Mart and find out.

If ever there's a time to sit back and enjoy a good horror movie (or even a non-so-good one), it's Halloween, and so David is right on point at Comfort TV with his look at the 1972 movie "Moon of the Wolf," with David Janssen, Barbara Rush, and John Beradino on hand to lend gravitas.

Let's continue with the genre at Classic Film & TV CafĂ©, where Rick riffs on 1981's Ghost Story, with Fred Astaire, John Houseman, Melvyn Douglas, and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. If the movie could have measured up to the book, or its distinguished cast, we might have had one for the ages. . .

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence pays tribute to Ron Ely, most famous as the star of the late-60s series Tarzan and the movie Doc Savage, who died last month, aged 86. He also appeared in the early-60s series The Aquanauts, many, many TV guest-star roles, and, infamously, as the man who replaced Bert Parks on Miss America. I also enjoyed his piece on the Los Angeles Dodgers on 1960s television; they were kind of the default team of TV, in some very enjoyable episodes. With the World Series coming up, this seems appropriate!

I always enjoy reading Andrew's posts at The Lucky Strike Papers when he references his mother, singer Sue Bennett, and her appearances on television, especially on Your Hit Parade or, in this case, Kay Kyser's television show. Some nice pictures as well.

The Hits Just Keep On Comin' goes back 20 years, to October 23, 2004, when, as JB remembers, there was a presidential election going on as well, as well as a World Series. There's something reassuring in tsignposts like those, the dependability that one can find in the rhythms of the calendar.

At Classic Fim and TV Corner, Maddy looks at one of the great acting dynasties of film and television, the Mills family: father John, and daughters Juliet and Hayley. All terrific, and of course I've got a soft spot for Juliet, whose autographed picture appears in our den. Maybe we'll add Hayley next year.

Finally, singer Jack Jones died today, aged 86; in addition to his recording career, he was a guest star on many variety shows over the years. And yet, for TV viewers, he's perhaps best-known for a show you didn't see him in, but he was part of every episode: The Love Boat, which wouldn't have been nearly as memorable if his rendition of the theme song didn't set the stage. Since we're only a couple of months from Christmas, why not end with a clip of him on the famed Judy Garland Christmas specialTV  

October 23, 2024

The Cuban Missile Crisis




Prior to the assassination of John F. Kennedy, what was the biggest breaking news story covered on television? Some might argue in favor of royal coronations or civil rights protests, but in terms of unfolding events, I'd suggest that we look back only one year, to 1962, and the Cuban Missile Crisis—what television historian Eric Barnouw called "the most sensational interruption" of America's daily television routine. 

For all that we hear nowadays about "existential threats" (whatever that's supposed to mean), it's difficult to appreciate just how frightened people were during the Cuban Missile Crisis. I recall my mother talking about how she held me on her lap (I was just two at the time), wondering if this was going to be it. She wasn't alone; for many people, the end of the world wasn't just an intellectual exercise to ponder, but a real possibility, with the United States and the Soviet Union ready to duke it out over Cuba.

We don't hear a lot about televison coverage of the crisis, primarily because there wasn't a lot of it, at least not compared to what we'd experience today. There were a variety of reasons for this: most of the action took place either out in the ocean, where American warships were in the process of assembling a blockade of Cuba, or behind closed doors in Washington and Moscow. There were no remotes, no on-the-spot lcoverage, no journalists embedded in combat units—a drawback for a medium based on visuals. There was also an embargo of official statements from government officials, which network news heads vigorously protested, limiting the news flow even further. Compared to the non-stop coverage we'd have today, with reports of the world "on the brink," talking heads analyzing the situation 24/7, and continuous video loops of ships circling at sea, I'm not sure we weren't better off with limited television presence. You can imagine the frenzy of anxiety it would have produced.

And yet, of course, there was coverage; in fact, a TV Guide letter to the editor complains about news bulletins interrupting daytime soap operas. The first news that most Americans had of the crisis came via President Kennedy's televised address to the nation on Monday, October 22, in which he descibed the situation, demanded that the Soviet Union remove the missiles in Cuba, and announced the naval blockade of Cuba. TV Guide's Henry Harding wrote in the November 3, 1962 issue that "The TV networks interrupted scheduled programs to prsent news bulletins, and hastily stitched together news specials bringing the viewers whatever facts could be gathered by correspondents all over the world. They switched to the UN for live pickups of the deliberations of the Security Council" (including UN Ambassador Adlai Stevenson's dramatic Security Council speech dramatic Security Council speech.)

But there's no question that coverage was limited. As Harding pointed out, "In a situation as critical as this, the information supplied by TV could never be adequate to satisfy the public's appetite and need to be informed." He added, however, that "it is some comfort to know that, as news breaks, a twist of the television dial can make it available to every American." (How true that would be a year later.)

Here are a couple of special broadcasts during the crisis: first, from October 23 (62 years ago today!), NBC's weekly news analysis program Chet Huntley Reporting presents an in-depth "Report on Cuba":

  

Next, Walter Cronkite anchors a CBS News Special Report on October 24, with reports from various CBS correspondents.


And from David Von Pein's excellent YouTube JFK news channel, here's a sampling of NBC News radio coverage from October 28.


For those interested in digging into it a little further, Robert MacNeil's long-form interview with the Television Academy includes this section on his experience covering the crisis. And in 1974, ABC presented an excellent (if not always trustworthy) dramatization, The Missiles of October. 

A little over a year later, Kennedy's assassination would completely change how television covered breaking news. Granted, in some ways it was an easier story to cover; at the same time, live remotes were still difficult to pull together, especially on short notice. Remember, no television or radio station was able to broadcast the announcement of Kennedy's death live, nor were they able to cover Lyndon Johnson's swearing-in aboard Air Force One at Love Field. Given the technical limitations of the time, it's a wonder that television was able to provide the coverage it did. 

I wonder: had the situation been reversed, had network news already "come of age" by demonstrating their ability to cover breaking news (and to do it well), would they have covered the Cuban Missile Crisis any differently? TV  

October 21, 2024

What's on TV? Friday, October 28, 1966




I think it's safe to say that, when you mention The Hollywood Squares, the first name that most people think of is Paul Lynde, the center square, yet he was not a member of the regular cast at the beginning. At this early point in the show's history, the regular squares are Wally Cox, Rose Marie, Abby Dalton, Charley Weaver, and Morey Amsterdam; Bob Crane is filling in this week for Morey. Paul Lynde is one of the panelists, but he's only listed as a guest; he didn't become the regular center square until 1968. I wonder which square he was today? We're back in the Northern California edition this week.

October 19, 2024

This week in TV Guide: October 22, 1966




When it comes to "Mod," no city defines the term better than the London of the 1960s. And that's where Lucille Ball is this Monday in a special hour-long edition of The Lucy Show entitled "Lucy Goes to London" (8:30 p.m. PT, CBS), with Anthony Newley on hand to take the world's favorite redhead around on a tour of the world's swingingest city. The premise sees Lucy winning a limerick contest that earns her a one-day tour of the city. Newley plays her tour guide, the owner of a threadbare travel agency, her other guests are Wilfrid Hyde-White as a museum guide; James Robertson Justice as the museum's drector; Peter Wyngarde as Petruchio, Shakespeare's male lead in The Taming of the Shrew, and the Dave Clark Five (as themselves?). Newley also finds some time, as himself, to perform songs from his hit musicals Stop the World and The Roar of the Greasepaint). 

As Robert Musel looks on, Lucy is preparing for a mod dance sequence to be staged at Osterley House, one of the stately homes you always see in tours of England. Looking at some of the "far-out costumes that end 6 inches above the knees", she wonders out loud to Musel if they're supposed to be short skirts or long belts, then proceeds to show off her own "notably elegant legs" in various outfits that form a pictorial during the scene. It can be painful sometimes watching these shows where your favorite stars try to act younger than their years, but if anyone can pull it off, I suspect it's Lucille Ball. Anyway, you've got a link to the video up there; you can check it out for yourself. 

In case you were wondering, and it should come as no surprise, the Brits love Lucy as mucg as we do; throughout her time there, "Truck drivers gaped and slowed down to give her the traditional thumbs up of approval, and there was a good deal of cheerful backchat with passers-by." In fact, while cast and crew were filming at Mme. Tussard's, she received quite a fright when she was approached for an autograph by a cleaning woman. The poor lady just wanted a good look at Lucy, so she had stood quietly, staring at the star and hoping not to attract any attention, totally unaware that from an angle she appeared to be part of one of the wax displays. And, of course, when one of those figures appears to come to life and start walking toward you—well, what else can you do but scream? Lucy happily, if somewhat shakily, signed the autograph. 

One scene in particular demonstrates Lucy's dedication to her work. It takes place at the poluted river Thames, which Musel describes as "'not much better than a sewer in some stretches." Lucy's character expresses a desire to go punting on the Thames, but Newly's hapless travel agent can only come up with an inflatable raft. Ball was warned that if she sank with the raft, as was called for in the script, she'd need typhoid and other shots, and if she swallowed any of the "sludge," she'd probably have to have her stomach pumped. Why don't we just go to a nice, clean—and safe—reservoir and film it there? Lucy, however, disagreed, and since she also happened to be Executive Producer of the special, her word was final. To prove it, she "went into the Thames up to her lips right then and there." No stunt doubles for this star.

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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: Jim "Gomer Pyle" Nabors, who sings "The Impossible Dream" and "Swanee"; singer Peggy Lee; jazz pianist-bandleader Duke Ellington; Mirella Freni and Gianni Raimondi, of the Metropolitan Opera; comics Joan Rivers and Norm Crosby; the Kovac and Rabovsky Gypsy Ballet; Upstairs at the Downstairs, comedy troupe; Tanya the Elephant; and the Muppets puppets.

Palace: Comedienne Phyllis Diller, making her debut as a Palace hostess, presents singer Tony Martin; comedian Bob Newhart, who offers a monolog about a policeman and a would-be suicide; Herman’s Hermits, rock ‘n’ roll group; dancer Lada Edmund Jr.; magician Kirk Kirkham; Del Morals’ acrobatic act; and the Palace Duo, trapeze artists.

You might remember that last week I promised I'd compare TV Guide's scheduled listing of Sullivan guests with the actual show lineup; this week's description was pretty accurate. There was only one significant addition, but I think it's worth mentioning; the four-person comedy troupe Upstairs at the Downstairs, one of those members being one Madeline Kahn. Otherwise it's a tough call, with Bob Newhart and Herman's Hermits making a strong statement for Palace. On the whole, though, I think Peggy Lee and Duke Ellington make the difference, and on that basis Sullivan carries the week.

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From 1963 to 1976, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever they appear, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era. 

It's always nice to be able to analyze one of Cleveland Amory's reviews from the perspective of having actually seen the series he's reviewing, and this week we have such a case, with CBS's WWII action-adventure series Jericho. I never saw it during its original sincle season, but I had the chance to view the entire series this year, so when Cleve calls Jericho "the season’s best new adventure-filled, action-packed series involving undercover work in a fun war," I'm in a position to agree with him. Mind you, I didn't like the show quite as much as he did, or perhaps his ardor dimmed somewhat as the season progressed, but as Amory points out, it has a good many things going for it.

Start with the three principals, Don Francks, John Leyton, and Marino MasĂ©, playing the three members of a special unit, code-named Jericho, sent to pull off impossibly impossible missions with the help of local partisans. They're all good actors, playng characters that are "intrinsically interesting," and though the show can be heavy-handed at times, well, what isn't? Amory singles out one episode which he considers "one of the finest individual episodes of any show we've ever seen," which is high praise indeed, particularly coming from Our Critic. It involved choirboys being smuggled into a secret German submarine base carrying loaves of bread containing bombs, and if that doesn't whet your appetite enough to go to Roku and check it out for yourself, there's not a whole lot more I can do for you. (It's called "A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and POW!" but don't let that stop you; remember that reporters don't compose their own headlines, either.) 

Having watched Jericho just after finishing Garrison's Gorillas and just before starting Combat!, I can tell you that the show, good as it might be, doesn't measure up to either one of those. It's certainly not as gritty as the latter (but then, what series is?), and the entertainment value of the former was just that much bit higher that it allowed one to overlook the implausibility in which both Garrison and Jericho traffic. However, as a devoted fan of Hogan's Heroes, I'm in no position to lecture anyone on plausiblity. Amory himself points out that the the trio might be well-served by going about their jobs displaying a little more grimness and a little less relish. As he concludes, "Fun's fun, boys—but still . . .

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I've had numerous occasion over the years to quote from Richard K. Doan's weekly Doan Report, a valuable source not only of insider stories, but of hard news perspectives on various issues within the industry. This week, while we're still absorbing the debuts from the new season, we get to see the debut of the Doan Report itself! Doan was, in the past, the radio-TV editor of the New York Herald Tribune; now, with the Herald Tribune closed for good as of August, the newspaper industry's loss is TV Guide's gain. And what, pray tell, is the first item on the plate? The ratings for the season's new shows, of course!

The first "definitive" poll of the season is in, that being the Nielsens for October 10, and while the week's top show was a returning favorite—Green Acres—first among the newcomers is ABC's WWII series The Rat Patrol. As for the biggest disappointment, at least in terms of potential, that belongs to the network's Stage 67, which was highly touted at the start of the season but "was so scorned by critic and viewer alike" that it's likely going to be replaced by a Wednesday night movie. The jury's still out on where Stage 67 winds up, and whether it survives as a weekly series or an occasional special. But since a Wednesday night movie requires more than just an hour, that's going to necessitate moving the week's second airing of Peyton Place. Where to? At this point, probably in place of The Man Who Never Was, although Shane and Hawk, two hour-long dramas, are in big trouble already. As for the year's biggest bomb, The Tammy Grimes Show, well, that's already a scratch.

The axe swung quickly at CBS as well, with Jean Arthur's new comedy to leave the air on December 5 after 12 episodes, to be replaced by a prime-time version of To Tell The Truth. And while the network hasn't announced any other casualties yet, "the Smothers Brothers, signed for a new variety hour, had been alerted to stand by for a January debut." Sure enough, when the new year comes around, the Brothers will be sitting in place of the revival of Garry Moore's show. Perhaps the best news for the Tiffany Network applies not to this season, but next Carol Burnett will be returning next fall in a comedy-variety hour, the first woman to helm such a show since Dinah Shore; it's probable she'll be replacing Danny Kaye, who's "experiencing ratings fatigue." 

Meanwhile, all is quiet at NBC; there are no reports of "second season talk," although The Roger Miller Show and The Hero are said to be on tenuous ground. A possible replacement: a long-promised live-action version of Dick Tracy. It's only been 58 years, but we're still waiting.

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President Johnson's tour of Asia takes up some airtime this week, with all three networks providing special programs of the events leading up to the Manila Conference dealing with the Vietnam War. CBS and ABC have reports on Saturday night, while CBS covers the president's arrival in Manila on Sunday (6:30 p.m.), the opening ceremonies of the conference on Tuesday (10:00 p.m.), and a 15-minute special on the conference's close on Thursday. (10:45 p.m.) Meanwhile, NBC plans daily coverage on Today (7:00 a.m.), and ABC, in addition to any special reports, plans to cover the story on the evening news. ABC also has a special, "To Save a Soldier" (Monday, 10:00 p.m.), narrated by Henry Fonda, which looks at the medical evacuation teams working on the battlefields in Vietnam. 

As for the rest of the week, on Sunday, KXTV tours the magnificent collection of Oriental art donated to the city of San Francisco by Avery Brundage; Brundage may be best known to most of you as the head of the International Olympic Committee from 1952 to 1972, a man for whom amateurism in the Olympics was a hill to die on, and one of the most controversial figures in sports in the 20th Century. Tuesday, Truman Capote is one of the guests on David Susskind's program (9:00 p.m., KQED), discussing his life and works, including "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and In Cold Blood. On Wednesday, Tony Bennett stars in his first hour-long special (10:00 p.m., ABC), with trumpeter Bobby Hackett, drummer Buddy Rich, vibraphonist Milt Jackson, Candido on bongos and conga drums, and flutist Paul Horn and his quintet. Bennett also performs with the Ralph Burns orchestra. Thursday sees the conclusion of a two-part Batman adventure (7:30 p.m., ABC) starring Liberace in the dual role of Chandell, the famouns pianist, and his evil twin brother Harry; as I recall, this story pulled in the highest ratings of Batman's run. And on Friday, Swingshif Theatre (1:00 a.m., KNTV in San Jose) presents "Who Killed Julie Greer?," an episode of The Dick Powell Show that served as the pilot for Burke's Law, with Powell himself in the role of our favorite millionaire police detective, Amos Burke.

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On Thursday, one of television's most enduring—and endearing—specials, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown makes its television debut(8:30 p.m., CBS). It's the third of the Peanuts animated specials, after A Charlie Brown Christmas, which aired for the first time last December; and Charlie Brown's All Stars, which premiered in June. 

I think it's safe to say the Great Pumpkin is the second-most popular of all the Peanuts cartoons after A Charlie Brown Christmas, and it's probably also the second-most successful as far as merchandise marketing is concerned. I mean, have any of you gone been in a grocery store in the last month? If so, you've almost certainly seen boxes of pumpkins for sale, and just about every one of those boxes has Charlie Brown, Linus, and Snoopy on the side, sitting in a sincere pumpkin patch, waiting for the Great Pumpkin. And this is 58 years after the cartoon first aired! I've mentioned in the past how Hallmark really cashed in on it at the time, putting out The Peanuts Book of Pumpkin Carols, including the classics "Great Pumpkin is Comin' to Town" and "Pumpkin Bells." (Maybe they still publish it; it's been a while since I've been in a Hallmark store.) Then, of course, there's the legend of Snoopy vs the Red Baron; the storyline had been introduced in the comic strip the previous year and was instantly popular (just ask the Royal Guardsmen); it plays a crucial role in the plot of The Great Pumpkin. We don't do much for Halloween in the Hadley household besides greating trick-or-treaters at the door, but we always make it a point to watch The Great Pumpkin on Halloween night.

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Arthur Schlesinger Jr., John F. Kennedy's house historian and a past contributor to TV Guide, writes this week about the changes television hath wrought in politics. "More and more Americans, it appears, are forming their impressions of the world on the basis of the things they see on the tiny screen," he begins, adding that in 1964 Broadcasting magazine declared that "television had become the 'Nation’s primary news medium.'" (Substitute "social media" for television, and we're probably at the same point.) Some argue that reliance on the medium produces "a more alret and better-informed electorate" while others counter that it is "reducing our politics to a mixture of high-pressure salesmanship and beauty contests." Schlesinger attempts, in this article, to sort through the various claims and evidence and come up with an understanding of where the truth lies.

As far as news is concerned, Schlesinger believes that "the greatest influence in shaping political judgment is stil the reality of events themselves." This is the area in which television has had its most pronounced success; Schlesinger cites television coverage of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearings on Vietnam as a prime example of an event that would not have had the same effect on the public had it not been on television, not only exposing the public to open debate on the issue, but giving viewers "the effect in many cases of heightening the sense of popular participation in public matters." This day-by-day coverage of politics has also made it more difficult for important issues and personalities to fly below the radar, giving the electorate "a larger knowledge of public personalities and a greater acquaintance with public issues."

On the other hand, television has also played a role in what Schlesinger refers to as "pseudo-news"; that is, "the creation of news on the initiative of the medium." That news may be legitimate, even important, but too often it winds up being "mischievous and irresponsible," as in the case where a TV news crew attempted, in the course of an interview, to spur Schlesinger into criticizing President Johnson. Although their efforts failed (and, to the crew's credit, they still aired the interview even without any provocative comments), this kind of interview technique, "designed to lure or trap people into sensational statements they would not otherwise make[,] can be dispensed with."

Schlesinger is less sure about the effect or usefulness of editorialization by news personalities. Frankly, he wonders, it's quite possible that television has a tendency to constrain such commentary. His preference is for panel discussion shows, most frequently seen on public broadcasting or local television. Schlesinger believes these shows "have improved the level of political discussion in part because they permit the suggestion of subtleties and complexities in public problems." Shows of this kind nowadays tend to become either echo chambers or shoutfests—one can only imagine what he'd think of them.

Finally, there's the question of paid political programming. Schlesinger's greatest fear is reserved for what he refers to as the "spot announcement," what we'd call a commercial. The length of political speeches has steadily decreased in the era of mass communication; whereas 60 years ago an audience would travel miles to hear a candidate discourse for a couple of hours on important issues, the coming of radio reduced such speeches to 45 minutes, then a half hour. By 1956, Adlai Stevenson's television advisers said that 15 minutes "represented the outer limit of the attention span of an American audience." Today, even that is too long. The result has "degrad[ed] the level and character of our political discourse" (preach it, Art!), resulting in "the vulgarization of issues, the exaltation of the immediately ingratiating personality and, in general, an orgy of electronic demagoguery." Perhaps the majority of the television audience doesn't want an intelligent discussion of the issues (it doesn't), but doesn't the media have an obligation to provide it for the minority who do? Schlesinger suggests that government subsidies enabling networks to give more time to candidates without losing ad revenue might be a possible solution.

Television has also resulted in an emphasis on style over substance, preferring "the poised, photogenic, otherdirected, manipulable candidate." Presidents such as Adams, Jackson, and Lincoln wouldn't have stood a chance in such an environment. Of course, Schlesinger's former boss, JFK, was among the first politicians to recognize the power and potential of television, and the words "poised" and "photogenic" describe him to a T. Schlesinger doesn't acknowledge that, but he does allow as to how the national grief following Kennedy's assassination was in part "a result of the way television had made him a cherished figure in remote lands." If television would "app[ly] as much as much thought and talent to this as it does to selling detergents," it could play a great role in making "our democracy more rational and responsible." 

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MST3K alert: I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) A psychiatrist's drugs turn a youth into a monster. Michael Landon, Whit Bissell, Yvonne Lime, Tony Marshall. (Saturday, 1:00 a.m., KCRA in Sacramento) "You are not drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s, young man, you’re just not old enough."Michael Landon was two years away from Bonanza when he starred in Werewolf, and he remained a fan of the movie for the rest of his life. "I think it's a good movie. I like it. My kids like it. They better like it, their dad's in it." TV  

October 18, 2024

Around the dial




We'll start this week with something I think one or two of you might find interesting: the evolution of on-screen television graphics systems. It includes some pictures of how the graphics were used to show election returns; I still miss the days when the networks used actual tote boards which they then showed on camera. Yes, I'm old.

At barebones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project takes on Martin Berkeley's second-season episode "Crackpot," a tight little thriller with the great character actor Robert Emhardt as a mysterious figure who may be haunting Biff McGuire and Mary Scott.

In the mood for more Hitch? Let's head over to Silver Scenes, where the Metzingers look at "Don't Look Behind You," a 1962 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour that perhaps fits a bit uncomfortably into the show's new hour-long format; regardless, Jeffrey Hunter and Vera Miles are always worth it. 

Jodie's back at Garroway at Large with an update on comings and goings over the past couple of months, and yes, there are some Garroway-themed items on the list, plus a Charles Kuralt tie-in, and a generous hat-tip to yours truly.

At Cult TV Blog, John turns back to the 1970-72 British sci-fi series Doomwatch, and the episode "The Logicians," which, as you may have gathered, has to do with logic, public school life in the UK in the '70s, and the theft of a secret formula from a pharmaceutical company.

I'll probably never stop talking about how Saturday night used to be the big night in the TV week, but after you read David's latest at Comfort TV, on prime-time Saturdays in 1974, you'll see why. CBS has the biggest hits, but all three networks have at least one show worth watching.

If you're like me, the phrase "fake news" can send you running, but at The Hits Just Keep On Comin', JB reminds us of a time when such was not the case: the "break-in records" of Dickie Goodman and Bill Buchanan, in which mock news accounts were made from clips from current hit songs. Just listen!

At The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew gives us a kinescope of the March 24, 1951 broadcase of Your Hit Parade, back when shows were brought to you by a single sponsor, whose commercials were a part of the show. Andrew's mother singer Sue Bennett, is a featured part of the commercials.

Lately we've been rewatching the 1970s series Nichols, which starred James Garner and gave us a twist on the Western genre. Margot Kidder was one of the co-stars on Nichols, and that brings us to Travalanche, and the sad story of her last few years.

Finaly, at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence takes a look at the career of character actor John Lasell, well-remembered from the soap opera Dark Shadows, who died earlier this month, age 95.

That's it for this week, but don't forget to check the links on the sidebar, including the podcasts I featured last week! TV  

October 16, 2024

Thus spake Bernstein



It's no exaggeration to say that Leonard Bernstein was, at least in part, responsible for my love of classical music. His Young People's Concerts, which aired on CBS from 1958 to 1972, were mostly before my conscious time, but I remember seeing enough of them in the last few years to be really interested. My first live trip to a classical music concert was a similar Young People's Concert done by what was then called the Minneapolis Symphony (which has since then taken on the far more pedestrian moniker Minnesota Orchestra). Anyway, when you're being taught something by someone with a real passion for it, at least some of that passion is bound to rub off.

I have mixed feelings for Bernstein; starting with Tom Wolfe's infamous Radical Chic, which described in brutal, unrelenting detail the utter pomposity of the wealthy Bernsteins, in their Park Avenue apartment, hosting an awareness fundraiser for the Black Panthers. It's almost impossible to understand how anyone could take Bernstein seriously after that excoriating portrait, and then you combine it with Bernstein's increasingly flamboyant, almost campy lifestyle in his later years (I particularly remember his capes and other outrageous clothes), emoting on the podium, drinking heavily and often behaving crassly in public—well, the man was at times virtually a parody of himself. And again, one wonders, how can anyone take Lenny seriously?

Then you watch one of those concerts—almost all of them are on YouTube—you listen to how the man teaches, how he explains music to grade school children—not really children, but, as he called them, young people. I'm no musicologist, but I do know a fair bit about music, and yet watching some of these programs I find myself scrambling to keep up with this thought process. It's deep, profound, often engaging with ideas and topics such as philosophy in a quest to explain the relationship between music and life. Bernstein never talks down to his audience (either the young people in the concert hall, or those watching on television), he never condescends or patronizes, he always interjects enough topical language and music to let them know that he understands where it's at, and he presents all this as someone who finds the subject matter quite exciting, and wants his audience to share in that thrill. And, from the expressions on their faces, some of them do. Granted, they've been prepped for it by their music teacher in school (remember when they had music appreciation classes?), but there's really nothing that prepares anyone, young or old, from Lenny at full wattage.

Watch this program in which he explains Richard Strauss's famous piece, Thus Spake Zarathustra, better known as the theme to 2001. By the time it's over, you'll know more about Nietzsche's philosophy than you ever thought possible, as well as an absolutely stunning demonstration of how Strauss's music depicts the themes in Nietzsche's work. Bernstein expects his audience to be able to follow this, expects that grade school students can comprehend complex themes and ideas, and to relate them to the meaning of life. I found this as thrilling as Bernstein must have.


For all that Bernstein accomplished, the conducting and the compositions and the writing, I think his lasting influence will be as a teacher. Not a teacher of other musicians, although he mentored a good many of them. No, it's as a teacher who tried to enrich the lives of his students just a little bit, to make them look at life in a different way, perhaps introduce them to something they hadn't considered before. I recall a TV Guide in which Judith Crist wrote about how one of the functions of a critic was to teach readers to demand more, to put a value on the time that they spend watching a movie and then expect that movie to be worth that time? To stimulate a response? That's what Bernstein does in these programs, and in other cases, and there's nobody better at it them him. You know how I've written about how a program like Alistair Cooke's America taught me more than my high school civics class? Never mind music appreciation; I can guarantee this program should have been shown in my college philosophy class.

So can we reconcile the two Bernsteins, the teacher and the tramp, the passionate musician and the inviter of ridicule? Should we even try? This is, I think, one of those cases where I'm going to have to agree to disagree with myself, for as hard as it may be to take Lenny seriously, when Leonard Bernstein talks about music, people listen. Am I a nerd for calling this kind of show "thrilling"? Perhaps, but it's so worth the ride. TV