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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