May 19, 2025
What's on TV? Tuesday, May 23, 1961
May 17, 2025
This week in TV Guide: May 20, 1961
The editorial take on Minow's speech is quite positive, with a mixture of hope thrown in; hope that as a result of the speech programming will improve, with less violence, fewer "formula comedies about totally unbelievable families," fewer commercials with "screaming, cajoling and offending," less boredom. "We need imagination in programming, not sterility; creativity, not imitation; experimetation, not conformity; excellence, not mediocrity." I know, I know—this sounds less like hope and more like a recitation of pipe dreams. But there was reason to be hopeful from Minow's declarations, such as his promise that "renewal of station licenses in the future will depend largely upon whether a station maintains programming balance." "Stations which offer no local public service shows, or which substitute old movies for network public service shows, will be in trouble." Look at local programming today, which consists largely of a continuous cycle of sitcom reruns, infomercials, and endless news that isn't really news; Minow was right.
The editors approve heartily of Minow's call for more choice in programming, and hope that this extends to ABC getting affiliates in more well-populated areas to compete with CBS and NBC—"with the assumption that ABC's programming. . . will achieve at least basic balance." And they urge him to visit Hollywood "and make it clear to producers there that diversity of programming cannot be achieved without their co-operation. Indeed, isn't it time for Hollywood to abandon its defensive attitude—'We just manufacture to New York's specifications'—and assume more leadership?"
One of the most interesting Teletypes we've seen in quite a while begins with this note that a previous movie commitment will probably prevent Marilyn Monroe from doing an NBC adaptation of Somerset Maugham's play "Rain," costarring Frederic March, directed by Oscar winner George Roy Hill and adapted by Rod Serling.
Now, a little online research suggests there might have been a little bit more to it than that; everything from conflicts between Hill and Monroe's acting coach Lee Strasberg to Monroe's supposed mental unstability have been cited as complications that eventually scuttled the production. The thought continues to intrigue, though; Keith Badman, author of The Final Years of Marilyn Monroe: The Shocking True Story suggested that "Rain" "would have shown Monroe’s capabilities as a serious actress."
The real reason this bit attracted my interest, however, is that we've become so accustomed to thinking of Marilyn Monroe in the past tense—a legend, someone who lived and died tragically—that it's sometimes jarring to read an article in which Monroe appears in the present tense, alive and well, with a television project in the works. I don't know, perhaps that just makes me old. I was alive when Monroe lived, and when she died, although her name meant nothing to me at the time. But think about it: if you read an article discussing a very famous someone, very much alive at the time, whom you knew only as one who had lived and died long before your own lifetime, wouldn't that attract your attention as well?
On a somewhat cheerier note, there's also ABC's plan for a future Wide World of Sports episode featuring "an experimental baseball game" incorporating many of the suggestions made over the years by baseball maverick Bill Veeck. Veeck was one of baseball's great characters, former owner of the Cleveland Indians and St. Louis Browns, and, at the time of this issue, the present owner of the Chicago White Sox, a team which he will once again own in the 1970s. In his autobiography Veeck—As in Wreck, he had written of how baseball was being bogged down by its slow pace: "There would be nothing wrong with the now standard three-hour game if we were presenting two-and-a-half hours of action. We aren't."*
*He wrote this in 1962. You could write the same thing, word for word, today.
Among the ideas Veeck has proposed: widening the plate by 25%, thus making the strike zone larger; changing the definition of a walk from four balls to three, and a strikeout from three strikes to two; reducing the time between pitches and between innings; and making the intentional walk automatic, i.e. rather than throwing four pitches wide of the plate, just tell the batter to take his base.*
*Veeck also advocated interleague play. Oh well, we can't always be right.
In his book, Veeck mentions his plans for the Wide World telecast, which would have been an exhibition game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the White Sox. "It was only because of my physical condition," he writes, "that the game wasn't played. Better not to do it at all, I decided, than to go ahead and do a lousy job." Too bad; I would have enjoyed seeing how it came out.
You want more from the Teletype? Okay" here's a note on "the new CBS comedy series" Double Trouble, with Dick Van Dyke and Morey Amsterdam already signed up, and adding Rose Marie to the cast. The series they're talking about, of course, is The Dick Van Dyke Show. I wonder when Mary Tyler Moore comes on the scene? Ah, but I know someone out there has the answer.
Another item: "Who Killed Julie Greer?", the opening episode of Dick Powell's new anthology series, is being filmed. That episode, starring Powell and featuring appearances by Ronald Reagan, Mickey Rooney, Ralph Bellamy and others, will serve as a pilot for one of my favorite shows of the '60s: Burke's Law. Powell, of course, also played private detective Richard Diamond on the radio; when the show came to television, the lead was taken over by David Janssen, who had, at his answering service, a sultry contact named Sam. The actress playing Sam? Come on, you know the answer.
The week's sports highlight comes on Saturday, as Kentucky Derby winner Carry Back addes to his collection with victory in the second jewel of the Triple Crown, the Preakness Stakes (3:30 p.m. CT, cbs). The horse will be a heavy favorite to take that Crown, but he'll falter in the Belmont in three weeks' time (possibly due to an injury) and finishes a distant seventh.
I don't often find myself perusing the daytime listings to see what's on KTCA, the educational station in the Twin Cities, but I'm making a grim exception on Wednesday for Survival Preparedness (12:30 p.m.), which, from the looks of it, may well be a regular program. Today's topic: "Distribution of Fallout." Nuclear fallout, that is. Well, I did warn you that it was a grim program. For something much happier, Perry Como has taken his Kraft Music Hall on the road again, and tonight, cast and crew find themselves in Chicago at McCormick Place Auditorium, where Perry welcomes guests Martha Raye, George Gobel, Paul Lynde, and Johnny Puleo. (8:00 p.m., NBC)
And now on to everybody's favorite summer replacement host, Andy Williams. Now, we all know The Andy Williams Show as one of television's favorite variety shows, hosted by one of America's most loved entertainers, but that's all in the future. At the moment, Andy's still "waiting for a regular show," despite considerable success over the last two summers filling in, first, for Pat Boone, and then the next year for Garry Moore. Combined with his regular appearances as a guest on other variety shows and his frequent specials (including this Sunday, when he hosts The Chevy Show with guests Gogi Grant, Jonathan Winters, and future wife Claudine Longet), and he's primed for the big time. Says the author of this unbylined profile, "the fact that he was still performing in a night club and not singing regularly in television was still one of the medium's mysteries."
What's the story? Well, at the outset, Andy declined the projects that were being pitched to him, shows that would have been scheduled against ratings giants such as Gunsmoke. "I had enough offers," he says. "Why not wait?" Maybe it's not a sure thing that Williams will be a smash when the right offer does come along, but it's a pretty good bet; Steve Allen says, "I know of no one with higher standards or better musical taste," while Bing Crosby calls him "a fine singer whose scope is limitless. . . and an appealing person with a great deal of integrity." Jack Benny, of course, is a little more cautious: he doesn't think Williams is "the greatest thing since Seven-Up," but adds that he's maybe the next best.
In any event, when Andy does make the move the next year, he's pretty much the hit that everyone expects. Bing Crosby's words are true, and remain so for as long as Andy Williams is on TV.
An interesting review of Bob Hope's latest TV appearances by Gilbert Seldes, himself an interesting man. Seldes was one of the large figures in cultural criticism. As I've mentioned in the past, Gil Seldes wrote one of the influential books of the earlier part of the century, The Seven Lively Arts. As editor of The Dial magazine, he published one of the greatest poems of the Twentieth Century, T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land. He was one of the early advocates of television as a cultural institution in its own right, worthy of review and criticism, and eventually made it to TV, where, as Director of Television Programming for CBS, one of his progeny was the all-time dramatic anthology Studio One.
But just as we weren't here to talk about Walter Brennan, we're not here to talk about Gil Seldes; rather, it's Bob Hope who's our subject. Seldes likes Hope, "a good comic actor who has been turned into a comedian, which is a different thing altogether." And this, for Seldes, is the problem with Hope on television: that Hope is capable of more than he's showing. "The shows in which he appears have no special atmosphere or quality; except that Hope is in them, they are like a sampler of half a dozen other variety shows."
I've read this kind of criticism of Hope before. His early humor, particularly in his radio days, was sharp, edgy and occasionally suggestive—even, to some, blue. On television, however, he's fallen into a rut, "the old reliable who is always doing the same old things." Seldes doesn't use the word lazy, but others have. At some point Hope saw the laughs he could get with a golf club, a few wisecracks, and some attractive actresses standing on either side of him, and after that he stopped trying to do anything new. And while it makes for a successful career, it doesn't necessarily mean fulfilling what you're capable of.
One more to round out the week, and that's Walt Disney's plan to take his long-running show from ABC to NBC. At one time the struggling network, which helped finance Disneyland, was just grateful to have him on their lineup. He provided not only credibility, but ratings. But now, he complains, "I no longer had the freedom of action I enjoyed in those first three years." The network, pleased with the success of his Davy Crockett series, "kept insisting that I do more and more Westerns." One of the stories they rejected, he complains, was The Shaggy Dog. In the light of ABC's turndown, he made a theater movie out of it "and it grossed $9,000,000." In case you're wondering, that was a lot of money back then.
When ABC axed Disney's Mickey Mouse Club, it was the last straw. He's been approached by NBC to come on over when his ABC contract expires later this year, and he has jumped at the chance. Says a friend, "I never saw such an overnight change in a man." The freedom from ABC, not to mention the prospect of working in color, has so energized him that he's started working on programs "that can't possibly be shown until 1963." One idea after another keeps coming from him, making him positively giddy. "Oh boy! Color—and no Westerns. I can do whatever I want. Do you hear me? I can do whatever I want." TV
I doubt that anyone looking at the state of television over the last 60 years would say that Minow's (and the editors') hopes have been fulfilled. Despite talk of television's new golden age of prestige programming, I think the medium has, for the most part, failed to fulfill its initial promise. But, hey—a fella can dream, can't he?
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One of the most interesting Teletypes we've seen in quite a while begins with this note that a previous movie commitment will probably prevent Marilyn Monroe from doing an NBC adaptation of Somerset Maugham's play "Rain," costarring Frederic March, directed by Oscar winner George Roy Hill and adapted by Rod Serling.
The real reason this bit attracted my interest, however, is that we've become so accustomed to thinking of Marilyn Monroe in the past tense—a legend, someone who lived and died tragically—that it's sometimes jarring to read an article in which Monroe appears in the present tense, alive and well, with a television project in the works. I don't know, perhaps that just makes me old. I was alive when Monroe lived, and when she died, although her name meant nothing to me at the time. But think about it: if you read an article discussing a very famous someone, very much alive at the time, whom you knew only as one who had lived and died long before your own lifetime, wouldn't that attract your attention as well?
On a somewhat cheerier note, there's also ABC's plan for a future Wide World of Sports episode featuring "an experimental baseball game" incorporating many of the suggestions made over the years by baseball maverick Bill Veeck. Veeck was one of baseball's great characters, former owner of the Cleveland Indians and St. Louis Browns, and, at the time of this issue, the present owner of the Chicago White Sox, a team which he will once again own in the 1970s. In his autobiography Veeck—As in Wreck, he had written of how baseball was being bogged down by its slow pace: "There would be nothing wrong with the now standard three-hour game if we were presenting two-and-a-half hours of action. We aren't."*
*He wrote this in 1962. You could write the same thing, word for word, today.
 |
| Veeck planned to let fans vote on team's next move. |
*Veeck also advocated interleague play. Oh well, we can't always be right.
In his book, Veeck mentions his plans for the Wide World telecast, which would have been an exhibition game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the White Sox. "It was only because of my physical condition," he writes, "that the game wasn't played. Better not to do it at all, I decided, than to go ahead and do a lousy job." Too bad; I would have enjoyed seeing how it came out.
You want more from the Teletype? Okay" here's a note on "the new CBS comedy series" Double Trouble, with Dick Van Dyke and Morey Amsterdam already signed up, and adding Rose Marie to the cast. The series they're talking about, of course, is The Dick Van Dyke Show. I wonder when Mary Tyler Moore comes on the scene? Ah, but I know someone out there has the answer.
Another item: "Who Killed Julie Greer?", the opening episode of Dick Powell's new anthology series, is being filmed. That episode, starring Powell and featuring appearances by Ronald Reagan, Mickey Rooney, Ralph Bellamy and others, will serve as a pilot for one of my favorite shows of the '60s: Burke's Law. Powell, of course, also played private detective Richard Diamond on the radio; when the show came to television, the lead was taken over by David Janssen, who had, at his answering service, a sultry contact named Sam. The actress playing Sam? Come on, you know the answer.
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On Sunday, Ed Sullivan takes his show to Las Vegas (7:00 p.m., CBS), where his show comes from the Stardust, and his guests are a mixture of headliners and Vegas lounge acts: Jerry Lewis, Phil Harris, the Kim Sisters, singer Sandy Stewart, Freddy Bell and the Bellboys, comic magician Mac Ronay, juggler Rudy Cardenas, and aerilists Michele and Michael, who perform while suspended from a helicopter. Later, on ABC's documentary series Winston Churchill: The Valiant Years (9:30 p.m., ABC), we come to Yalta, 1945: the fateful meeting between Churchill, Stalin, and the dying FDR in which they plan for the future of Europe and the structure of the United Nations.
We were talking about Dick Powell a few paragraphs ago, and on Monday, Mrs. Dick Powell, also known as June Allyson, presents a story with a twist on her eponomyous dramatic anthology series (9:30 p.m., CBS). It seems that Howard Moon (Lew Ayres), a conviced thief, is being released from prison, with the best of intentions of living on the straight and narrow. Of course, we always know how vows like that turn out. But the surprise here? It's his wife who wants him to return to his thieving ways.
Sometimes the handwriting is on the wall, and you can certainly see in in Tuesday's NBC White Paper on "Railroads: End of the Line?" (9:00 p.m.) Host Chet Huntley takes a look at the plight of the nation's railroad system, including the decline in passenger travel (due to both the increasing popularity of air travel and the interstate road system) which eventually results in the formation of Amtrak. I can remember back in 1963 when my family took Great Northern's Empire Builder from the Twin Cities to Montana; it was a great way to see the country, and while I'm no fan of government bailouts, it is a shame that passenger service has become such a thing of the past. I know; I could take Amtrak even today, but I'd be about as likely to do that as I would be to fly, which I haven't done since 2019 and have no plans to restart. (And why should I? We're retired; we can take as long as we want to drive somewhere!)
Thursday's highlight is a rerun of The Ford Show (8:30 p.m., NBC) featuring the 1959 broadcast of Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta The Mikado, with host Tennessee Ernie Ford playing both the title character and Ko-Ko. "Obviously, we'd never done anything like this before," Ernie would later say. "It was an experiment we all knew could blow up in our faces. . . we were fooling with our own success [the show was the highest-rated half-hour variety show on the air at the time] and we knew we could hurt ourselves." Ford even went to the trouble of covering every dollar over The Ford Show's usual expenses. Still, there was apprehension—until the show started. Ford and his supporting singers, The Top 20, were more than up to the task (Ford himself had sung the role in music school), and the success would lead the show to attempt another Gilbert and Sullivan operetta the following year, H.M.S. Pinafore, with similar success.
I'm going to return to the field of sports for Friday's highlight, which comes to us from Washington, D.C., where the Minnesota Twins, who moved from Washington to Minnesota to start this season, take on the team that replaced them, the expansion Washington Senators. (6:00 p.m., WTCN) The Twins, when they played in Washington, were also known as the Senators, which would make this confusing enough. But while the Senators' new stadium (D.C. Stadium, later renamed after Robert F. Kennedy) is being constructed, they're playing their home games in old Griffith Stadium, named after Clark Griffith, former owner of the original Senators, now the Twins, who are owned by Griffith's nephew, Calvin. So in other words, the team that used to be called the Washington Senators is playing the team now called the Washington Senators, in a stadium named after the uncle of the man who now owns the team called the Minnesota Twins, but used to be the Washington Senators. Got all that?
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What's the story? Well, at the outset, Andy declined the projects that were being pitched to him, shows that would have been scheduled against ratings giants such as Gunsmoke. "I had enough offers," he says. "Why not wait?" Maybe it's not a sure thing that Williams will be a smash when the right offer does come along, but it's a pretty good bet; Steve Allen says, "I know of no one with higher standards or better musical taste," while Bing Crosby calls him "a fine singer whose scope is limitless. . . and an appealing person with a great deal of integrity." Jack Benny, of course, is a little more cautious: he doesn't think Williams is "the greatest thing since Seven-Up," but adds that he's maybe the next best.
In any event, when Andy does make the move the next year, he's pretty much the hit that everyone expects. Bing Crosby's words are true, and remain so for as long as Andy Williams is on TV.
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 |
| Gilbert Seldes |
But just as we weren't here to talk about Walter Brennan, we're not here to talk about Gil Seldes; rather, it's Bob Hope who's our subject. Seldes likes Hope, "a good comic actor who has been turned into a comedian, which is a different thing altogether." And this, for Seldes, is the problem with Hope on television: that Hope is capable of more than he's showing. "The shows in which he appears have no special atmosphere or quality; except that Hope is in them, they are like a sampler of half a dozen other variety shows."
I've read this kind of criticism of Hope before. His early humor, particularly in his radio days, was sharp, edgy and occasionally suggestive—even, to some, blue. On television, however, he's fallen into a rut, "the old reliable who is always doing the same old things." Seldes doesn't use the word lazy, but others have. At some point Hope saw the laughs he could get with a golf club, a few wisecracks, and some attractive actresses standing on either side of him, and after that he stopped trying to do anything new. And while it makes for a successful career, it doesn't necessarily mean fulfilling what you're capable of.
There are always moments, as Seldes says; "A reference to the 1920's when Al Capone was playing The Untouchables live, or the mad idea tha tthe Moscow edition of TV Guide lists President Kennedy's appearance as The Millionaire—these have the sudden shock value of quick wit." Seldes says the best thing Hope's done this year was his Project 20 Will Rogers documentary voiceover, because it was something different, which he did "with confidence and modesty and skill. It reminded you that he really has talent, even if no one (and that includes himself) bothers to use it." Seldes, who confesses to a soft spot for Hope, concludes that Hope "has the talent. It needs only to be shown."
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When ABC axed Disney's Mickey Mouse Club, it was the last straw. He's been approached by NBC to come on over when his ABC contract expires later this year, and he has jumped at the chance. Says a friend, "I never saw such an overnight change in a man." The freedom from ABC, not to mention the prospect of working in color, has so energized him that he's started working on programs "that can't possibly be shown until 1963." One idea after another keeps coming from him, making him positively giddy. "Oh boy! Color—and no Westerns. I can do whatever I want. Do you hear me? I can do whatever I want." TV
May 16, 2025
Around the dial
David brings Comfort TV to 1976, with his review of Sunday night programming. Some solid shows: 60 Minutes, Kojak, The Six Million Dollar Man, Disney, and the Sunday Mystery Movie. Some not so: The Big Event, Cos, Delvecchio. Another great look back.
Cult TV Blog continues the "Sylvia Coleridge Season," and this week John arrives at the 1986 BBC TV movie The Good Doctor Bodkin Adams, a drama about one of Britain's most notorious serial killers, with as many as 300 victims to his credit. If this is news to you, as it was to me, it's worth checking out.
You'll remember my traumatic years living in the World's Worst Town™, where I was held hostage in a town with one commercial TV channel; well, this week at Mavis Movie Madness, Paul looks at another of those movies I heard of but never got to see, the 1978 teleflick Deadman's Curve, the story of Jan and Dean.
At Classic Film & TV Cafe, Rick shares seven things to know about Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. The first season and a half, with its Cold War overtones, was consistently good; the last two and a half, which featured lots of monsters and weird things, not so much. But it's still one of my favorites for a fun evening.
Two highlights from A Shroud of Thoughts: first, Terence remembers Denise Alexander, the soap opera legend who was also a frequent guest star on television in the 1960s and 70s; then, it's a celebration of the Muppets and their television debut, 70 years ago. Man, do I feel old.
At The View from the Junkyard, Roger's latest turn on The A-Team is "Pros and Cons," which features a perfect example of the "Chekhov's gun" trope. Oh, by the way, it's also a pretty good episode, with some particularly violent scenes.
Finally, the latest episode of American TV with Mitchell Hadley is up, a fun episode in which Dan Schneider and I compare lists of the ten most significant moments in TV history. There was very little overlap, although many of them were complimentary, which makes it even more fun. TV
May 14, 2025
Love That Bob: A 70th anniversary celebration
Today I'm pleased to welcome Hal Horn to "It's About TV" for a look at the 70th anniversary of Love That Bob, also known as The Bob Cummings Show. You'll recognize Hal from his blog The Horn Section, where he's demonstrated his status over the years as an expert on F Troop and Hondo, among other shows; this week we'll benefit from his expertise on Bob Cummings, one of the most popular television stars of the era, reflected in the success of Love That Bob, which ran for five seasons and 173 episodes. Take it away, Hal!
by Hal Horn
Bob: —and your girl goes out with the other guys!
The year 2025 marks the 70th anniversary for a trio of genuine classics of the sitcom genre. The Honeymooners stayed in the public consciousness for decades despite only having 39 filmed installments available: testament to the brilliance of Jackie Gleason's vision and the timelessness of the Gleason/Carney comedy team, still one of the medium's very best. Nat Hiken's venerated Phil Silvers Show might not be as ubiquitous on the airwaves as it once was, but MeTV has aired it in recent years and the eight-time Emmy winner is (like The Honeymooners) available in its entirety on home video.
Our third pioneering septuagenarian series has receded significantly from cable channels since its most recent memorable run on CBN during the 1980's, and has seen innumerable episodes lapse into the public domain since that time. With its 173 segments (nearly as many as the aforementioned shows combined) relegated to cheap PD DVD releases of the same (mostly late season) twenty-ish episodes over and over, it has never seen remastering nor even a complete season made available on VHS, DVD or Blu. As a result, one of the greatest situation comedies of TV's first decade and the first hit for the producer who would dominate its second is sadly far less available than it deserves to be: Love That Bob, also known as The Bob Cummings Show.
Love That Bob was TV's first sex comedy, about a man taking Hugh Hefner's playboy philosophy to heart and living it out while his married peers often lived vicariously through him. Set in Los Angeles, the show centered around the adventures of single ace photographer Bob Collins, surrounded by beautiful fashion models--among them Joi Lansing, Lisa Gaye, and Miss Sweden Ingrid Goude. Squiring all of them around town every chance he got, Bob carefully tiptoed away every time the subject of marriage came up.
And it came up often, as he lived with his widowed sister Margaret (Rosemary DeCamp) and her son Chuck (Dwayne Hickman, aka Dobie Gillis). Margaret was always worried about the example being set for her son, who clearly emulated and envied Uncle Bob. Plots centered around Bob's active dating life and numerous attempts at romantic conquests, the efforts of several of his models to settle him down for good, and the attempts of his loyal, plain Jane assistant Schultzy (Ann B. Davis, The Brady Bunch) to win her boss' heart herself. (Davis won two Emmys for her work, the only ones the show would win, but Cummings and director Rod Amateau were among the others receiving well-deserved nominations)
While marriage was a sacred institution in shows ranging from Father Knows Best to Leave It to Beaver, Love That Bob stood proudly in presenting an alternative view. Married life was represented by henpecked Harvey Helm (named after the Burns and Allen writer in one of the show's numerous in-jokes; Burns' McCadden Productions co-produced and co-owned this series). Helm's wife Ruth ruled the roost in his household, intimidating her Air Force vet hubby physically as well as mentally, despite her slight stature. Of course, as played by King Donovan, Harv seems even slighter than his 5'8" height by a good five inches. Harv lives in perpetual terror of Ruthie and completely harried by their two kids every time we see him. "Wolves" Bob and their Air Force buddy Paul Fonda (the omnipresent Lyle Talbot) sure seem to be having a lot more fun being single than Harv ever will.
Many of those who do comment on the show make fun of how unlikely a ladies' man Bob was, citing his overly theatrical mannerisms and cliched pickup lines. I think these reviewers miss the point. I mean, Hef didn't have all of those women around him because of his looks or cool either. Bob Collins was not only a financially successful single man, but he was also in a position to further a model's career as one of Hollywood's top shutterbugs. If he was objectifying the models, they were certainly objectifying him too. Tit for Tat—literally!
Also, Bob's age (his late 40's offscreen, though Collins is probably pushing 40—both older then than they are now) is not ignored and hints are dropped regarding the coming youth revolution. He is reminded by his sister that "it's later than you think" and he clearly feels threatened on those rare occasions when a younger muscleman is around. "Bob Gets Out-Uncled" is a great example of the latter, guest starring Los Angeles Rams star Elroy Hirsch; another is "Bob Meets Miss Sweden" which saw him competing with Tarzan himself, Gordon Scott. While Bob is an Air Force reserve Colonel (distancing him considerably from pure Bon Vivant Hefner) and in good shape, he's no physical match for these younger he-men.
Love That Bob is downright educational, too—to see what passed for a sex comedy within the rigid rules of 1950's television, and it is startling at times to see how far BOB (and Bob) could go within those boundaries. Margaret was his sister, but she acted an awful lot like a wife in most episodes, and her son Chuck looked a lot like Bob. . . enough to pass for his son. Bob was constantly put in the position of having to hide his latest romance from Margaret for various reasons, often sneaking out the kitchen (back) door to avoid "getting caught". Viewed within this context some episodes operate as "how to cheat on your spouse" primers, a full decade before Guide for the Married Man and in an era far more noted for gentle family comedy along the lines of Ozzie and Harriet and Leave It to Beaver.
While Bilko and Ralph Kramden almost always failed in their get-rich-quick schemes, Bob Collins frequently succeeded in his romantic conquests despite the forces of conventionality lined up against him. Yes, he crashed and burned often under his own hubris (two great examples: "Bob Batches It" and "Bob and Automation") but there's a startling number of times that Bob has either succeeded already ("Bob and the Ballerina") or it is clear that he's about to ("Bob Traps a Wolf," "The Dominant Sex") before we diplomatically fade to black. Bilko never got rich, but Bob certainly did get laid. Offscreen, of course—we had boundaries seven decades ago. Rather strict ones, and in a decade with precious few subversives on the tube, you can make a strong case that Bob Collins out-rebeled Kingfish, Bilko and the Maverick brothers.
Getting Love That Bob/The Bob Cummings Show the greater recognition and availability it deserves has been a cause celebre of The Horn Section for some time now. To that end, I'm 48 episodes into my episode guide for the show, and my YouTube channel has nine episodes that aren't among those twenty-ish in public domain Hell available for viewing. While two are from the disappointing final season, the other seven are from the show's prime years, its second through fourth seasons. I hope to have more on the way in the coming months. In closing, I'd like to thank Mitchell for inviting me to guest post on It's About TV. TV
May 12, 2025
What's on TV? Friday, May 14, 1965
May 10, 2025
This week in TV Guide: May 8, 1965
As it happens, this isn't a particularly new phenomenon. In fact, back in 1965, the proliferation of bulletins was really starting to rub people the wrong way. Remember, we were just two or three years beyond some of the most disturbing of TV bulletins, those accompanying the Cuban Missile Crisis and the assassination of President Kennedy, and viewers were conditioned, on seeing that BULLETIN slide, to expect either the end of the world, or some very dire news—not "President Johnson’s cold has improved slightly, his physicians reported a moment ago, and he is expected to leave Bethesda Naval Hospital and return to the White House within the next 12 hours."
Based on other anecdoctal evidence I've read over the years, this bulletin, from the lead article by Neil Hickey, is likely verbatim. President Johnson had, in fact, been hospitalized over a nasty case of the flu, and the networks were providing constant updates on his condition. Jim Hagerty, former press secretary to President Eisenhower and now VP at ABC, was dubious about it all: "Admittedly, the President is the most important person in the free world. But honestly, didn’t we all overdo it just a little?" In fact, these interruptions, along with similar bulletins regarding U.S. airstrikes in Vietnam, added to what Hickey calls a situation "which has been argued hotly both by viewers and TV news officials for a long time"—when it is appropriate to interrupt regular programming (and the viewers' regular heart rhythms) with news stories. The practice has been on the increase lately, a mark of the increasing competition between networks to be first with the news, even when it means not thoroughly checking out a story before going on the air. Such was the case last year when CBS went live with an unconfirmed report that Nikita Khruschev had died. If, Hickey says, there had been even a moderate delay to check out the report, they would have been spared the embarrassment of having had to later retract the story.
TV Guide recently reached out to network news honchos for their guidelines on when it's appropriate to break into regular programming for news bulletins. They all agreed that the most important thing is to rely on experience and judgment. "Is it a service that the people need at this moment, such as an alarm?" asks CBS news chief Fred Friendly. "Is the news of such great importance that the viewer would want to be interrupted? What program is in progress, and will the content of the bulletin fit tastefully into the context of the program?" Julian Goodman at NBC adds that the network has a process designed to find the best spot in a program to place a bulletin—except in the most dire of circumstances, you can't, for example, "announce the death of an important figure in the middle of a comedy, and then come back to laughter. If we have to wait 10 minutes in the interests of good taste, we do so." But, as ABC head Jesse Zousmer says, "But what's the alternative? Should we come on and say, ‘In a half hour we’re going to tell you something unpleasant’?" In the end, they agree, you can't satisfy everybody.
However, it appears the networks are becoming more sensitive to complaints; one network is preparing a "million-dollar piece of equipment" which will allow them to run updates on the bottom of the screen; although machines like this already exist, they don't have a quick-enough turnaround time to be used for bulletins. Another idea is holding all bu tthe most important bulletins to run over the closing credits of programs.
And there's one more piece of news: all three agree as well that there is no conspiracy to refrain from interrupting commercials for bulletins, as some have cynically suggested. Money has nothing to do with it, they insist. It's all timing.
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 are dancer Juliet Prowse; songstress Della Reese; singer Vaughn Monroe; the Three Stooges, comics; the Kim Sisters, singers; comedian Richard Pryor; Les Doubles Faces, pantomime artists; and comic Jackie Clark.
Palace: The host is singer Steve Lawrence, who introduces Mickey Rooney and Bobby Van in a spoof of the movie Bridge on the River Kwai; operatic soprano Jean Fenn; the Backporch Majority, folk singers; choreographer-dancer Jack Cole; comic Gene Baylos; plate spinners Alberto and Rosita; the Gimma Brothers, novelty act; and 4-year-old drummer Poogie Bell.
Since there are no indications of alterations to Ed's lineup, we'll go with it as listed, and it's a good one that includes a young Richard Prior, before many of us had heard of him. Over at the Palace, the leads are solid; you can be sure that Steve Lawrence, as host, is also going to get some performance time. However, it has neither the star power nor the entertainment value of Sullivan's show—the very fact that Ed has the Three Stooges (even without the sound effects) gives him an edge he won't lose. It's Sullivan this week, you knuckleheads.
Since there are no indications of alterations to Ed's lineup, we'll go with it as listed, and it's a good one that includes a young Richard Prior, before many of us had heard of him. Over at the Palace, the leads are solid; you can be sure that Steve Lawrence, as host, is also going to get some performance time. However, it has neither the star power nor the entertainment value of Sullivan's show—the very fact that Ed has the Three Stooges (even without the sound effects) gives him an edge he won't lose. It's Sullivan this week, you knuckleheads.
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Speaking of the Tiffany Network, I don't know that many people recall that CBS once owned the New York Yankees, prior to their sale by a group led by George Steinbrenner. (The fact that their ownership coincides with one of the bleakest periods in Yankees history may have something to do with that.) We're reminded of it indirectly on Sunday, when CBS Sports Spectacular returns with coverage of the Harlem Globetrotters (1:00 p.m.). What does this have to do with the Yankees, you ask? Well, we're advised that Sports Spectacular will aire on "the seven Sundays when CBS is not covering New York Yankee home games." To this day, that seems like a match made in hell; can you imagine ESPN owning a pro sports franchise? Well, actually, it seems sometimes as if they own entire leagues, so maybe that's not the best comparison.
For music of a more popular sort, Hoagy Carmichael narrates a tribute to "Tin Pan Alley" on The Bell Telephone Hour (Tuesday, 10:00 p.m., NBC), with singers Gordon MacRae, Carol Lawrence, Leslie Uggams and Bill Hayes; pianist Peter Nero and dancer Matt Mattox. On a darker note, The Doctors and the Nurses (10:00 p.m., CBS), which began life simply as The Nurses, takes a look at drug abuse in this story of a doctor who's been requisitioning morphine over the last three weeks, even though none of his patients has need of it.
More historical recognition of V-E Day on Wednesday, as the syndicated documentary series Men in Crisis presents "Truman vs. Stalin: The Potsdam Encounter" (7:00 p.m., KRON), with the story of the discussions between Truman, Stalin, and Winston Churchill about the partition of postwar Europe. Not one of the great moments in history, I have to admit. Later on, it's The Swinging World of Sammy Davis Jr. (8:30 p.m., KGO), and for his first television special in the United States, Davis is joined by fellow Rat Packer Peter Lawford, and two of his co-stars from the Broadway musical "Golden Boy," Billy Daniels and Lola Falana.
It may only be my opinion, but I think the most interesting program on Thursday—perhaps the entire week, for that matter—is going to require you get up early for it. It's the education program Our World (6:30 a.m., KRON), as Ayn Rand discusses what she terms "the current intellectual crisis in America." I'd have enjoyed watching that. For something a little less intellectually stimulating, although no less exciting, I'd suggest KRCA's 7:00 p.m. movie, Gang War, starring a young Charles Bronson as a high school teacher who witnesses a gangland killing. This was made in 1958; I'd have to think that, had it been made in the 1970s, it would have had an entirely different feel.
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Henry Harding's "For the Record" notes the death of Edward R. Murrow last week at the age of 57, from cancer. "To the millions who hung on his every word nightly during World War II, Edward R. Murrow was as much a good friend as a famous war correspondent." A later generation knew him as the man who took on McCarthy and won; "Said Murrow later: 'The timing was ripe and the instrument powerful.'" President Johnson praised Murrow, calling him "a gallant fighter, a man who dedicated his life as a newsman and as a public official to an unrelenting search for truth." As Harding says, "Good Night, Good Luck."
The George Foster Peabody Awards were also awarded last week, with some interesting recipients. (A previous recipients: Edward R. Murrow.) Burr Tillstrom, best known as the creator of Kukla and Ollie, received one "for his moving Berlin Wall depiction on That Was the Week That Was," while Mr. Joyce Hall, president of Hallmark, was recognized for the company's sponsorship of Hallmark Hall of Fame. (He must be spinning in his grave today, seeing what that show has become.) And don't forget everyone's favorite French Chef, Julia Child.
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And now for a word or two on this week's cover story, about the show that gets no respect, Gilligan's Island. Don't believe me? Its stars can tell you a thing or two: Natalie Schafer, who plays Lovey Howell, says, "When you open in a play and bad notices come out, you expect to fold on Saturday. And I expected to fold. I had moved to Hollywood, but I left most of my clothes in New York because I never was very sure about this being a great success. It never entered my head it would go on." Dawn Wells, everyone's Mary Ann, said of her acquaintances, "So many of them looked at the show and said: Gee, you look good, you look great, or you look cute, or the photography’s great. But that’s all they said."
Sherwood Schwartz, executive producer, was not impressed by the show's negative reception among critics. "I was not disheartened by the reviews. Only a bit angry with the lack of understanding of what was being attempted." What that was, he tells Richard Warren Lewis, was something different. "Here are the same men who are forever saying: 'For heaven’s sake, won’t somebody give us something other than the wife and the husband and the two children?' he husband and the two children?’ So you bring something else to the tube and you read very good reviews about the husband and the wife and the two kids with the same old story lines—the wife dented the fender and the husband doesn’t know about it; she insulted the husband’s boss and didn’t know who he was; he forgot their anniversary. They're yelling and crying for a fresh approach. You give 'em a fresh approach, they kill you and praise the guy who’s doing the same old thing." Bob Denver, who plays Gilligan, was similarly sanguine. "I don’t think the critics were ready for broad, silly, physical comedy. You have to adjust to it. They’re entitled to their opinion. It’s silly to put them down. But you can’t expect seven actors to perform at their top, peak level in the first show. I didn’t have time to be upset or depressed with the reviews, I was working so hard at the time."
However, there's something interesting at play: says Lewis, "Many of the principals, despite the popularity of the show, have begun to have second thoughts abou ttheir overwhelming success and potentially lengthy commitment." Jim Backus, who plays millionaire Thurston Howell III, admits that "I would like to do something maybe a little more worth-while or artistically satisfying. Bu tI enjoy the money and I certainly enjoy the recognition." Denver points out that "I don’t think I’ve reached my potential yet as an actor. I did play Falstaff in college." Wells adds that "I've studied the classics. Shakespeare is my favorite. I’d rather do Shakespeare than anything." And Tina Louise, perhaps the most outspoken in her dissatisfaction, says, "I don’t feel fulfilled doing these shows. Most are not quite inventive." Schwartz bristles at such comments; "I would think she would be delighted. She’s an integral part of a major hit. What else does an actress want?" Gee, Sherwood, I dunno. Maybe a chance to actually act? I guess you can't please everyone.
Gilligan's Island does, of course, run three years (a fourth season was supposedly axed in favor of retaining Gunsmoke), and it's fondly remembered today by many boomers. I must admit that, despite my fondness for the cast, Gilligan's Island has never been one of my favorite programs, and probably never will be. That doesn't mean that there isn't room for silly, dumb, slapstick humor on TV; otherwise, I wouldn't be spending so much time watching the Three Stooges. Still, I don't think the critics were entirely wrong about the show. Put to the test, I'd by far prefer the Henningverse shows, especially The Beverly Hillbillies and Green Acres. But the point, I guess, is that television ought to be big enough to encompass all these genres—comedy and drama, smart and stupid, high art and low. That television has manifestly failed in these endeavors is, I think, a topic for another day.
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May 9, 2025
Around the dial
At Drunk TV, Paul's look at the NBC miniseries-series Best Sellers concludes with the final miniseries, "The Rhinemann Exchange," a "four-hour drag" starring Stephen Collins. What else can be said, other than to marvel at how far down the series went after "Captains and the Kings."
Martin Grams has a nice little piece on Jill Leporte's book The Secret History of Wonder Woman, which presents us with an equally interesting look at the famed superhero, the man who created her, and the actresses who played her.
At Cult TV Blog, John's "Sylvia Coleridge Season" continues with the episode "Mr. Nightingale" from the 1977 British anthology series Supernatural, in which our heroine plays one of the old ladies of the household facing a very nasty guest.
If you enjoy Jack's regular Hitchcock Project articles at bare-bones e-zine, here's something from the same site that I think you'll like: Lawrence Herman's piece on the writer Henry Slesar, who authored stories or adaptations for 47 episodes of Hitchcock. And more!
Terence gives tribute to the late Ruth Buzzi at A Shroud of Thoughts. We all knew her from Laugh-In, of course, but there was much more to a career that spanned seven decades on television and in the movies. She will be missed.
And at Comfort TV, David offers Ruth Buzzie's top TV moments. Some of them might come as surprises to you; did you know that she was the voice of Granny Goodwitch for the cartoon Linus the Lionhearted? Or that she made her TV debut on The Garry Moore Show? Check it out.
At The View from the Junkyard, Roger turns his eye to The A-Team, and the ripped-from-the-headlines episode "Children of Jamestown," based on the infamous Jim Jones cult. Ah, if only it had turned out this way in real life. TV
May 7, 2025
Remembering the Emergency Broadcast System
Today I'm pleased to welcome back Bill Griffiths, with another of his guest essays on television "back in the day." This week, in the first of a two-part series, he recalls something that used to unnerve the hell out of me when I was growing up: the weekly test of the Emergency Broadcast System. Remember?
by Bill Griffiths
We all have fond memories of television in our youth. The shows, the personalities, the commercials and so much more. But for this guest essay and another to follow, I’ve gleefully chosen to turn negative and write about a couple of occurrences that decidedly do NOT inspire happy tv watching remembrances. One is the sudden interruption of a program for a news report. The other is the Emergency Broadcast System Test. The predecessor of today’s Emergency Alert System, EBS was in use between 1963 to 1997. It had replaced an earlier warning system called CONELRAD (1951-1963) that was designed to be activated specifically in the event of an enemy or nuclear attack.
The message generally went like this:
This is a test. For the next 60 seconds, this station will conduct a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test.[loud shrill tone is heard]This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities, have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you just heard would have been followed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the [insert name of your community] area. This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcast System.
Then it was back to the cartoons and we were safe from the EBS Test for at least another week. That is, unless one turned over to another channel and who knew when any of them would perform their required weekly test?
Amazingly, I cannot recall one instance when the Emergency Broadcast System was actually used during my childhood. I don’t think it even occurred during the Loma Prieta Earthquake on October 17, 1989. Then again many stations were knocked off the air and when they came back on, it was straight to the developing news.
There was at least one instance when it was inadvertently activated and caused a brief panic. On the morning of Saturday, February 20, 1971 during what was at the time the standard weekly EBS test period, engineer Wayland S. Eberhardt in the National Emergency Warning Center at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado sent out the wrong message code to radio and television stations indicating that a real national emergency was taking place. It took some 40 minutes for a firm correction to be issued. Some stations went into actual EBS mode while others did not. For his part Eberhardt was mortified by the whole incident, telling The New York Times, “I can’t imagine how the hell I did it.” An investigation revealed the codes were in close proximity to one another and he simply grabbed the wrong one. Tests soon became more randomized. A recording of how radio station WOWO-AM in Fort Wayne, Indiana managed the “emergency” is preserved in a 5-minute excerpt on YouTube, that starts with a lead-in
from DJ Bob Sievers to the then-new Partridge Family song “Doesn’t Somebody Want To Be Wanted”. It’s still unnerving to hear, but Sievers handles the situation professionally.
Regular test notifications of the Emergency Broadcast System much like the current Emergency Alert System are just part of the normal TV viewing experience. I’m sure many of you have EBS memories whether it be sitting through an angst-ridden test moment or an actual emergency where it was activated in your area.
For something more jarring, little else can beat a program being unexpectedly interrupted for breaking news. That will be the subject for an upcoming guest essay. In the meantime, I’ll conclude for now with three of the most dreaded words in television…
TO BE CONTINUED TV