Win a Copy of Darkness in Primetime!

What can we learn from landmark television episodes of the 1950s and ’60s that predicted today’s social concerns—like conformity, loss of liberty, family breakdown, and the silencing of public faith?

In anticipation of the August 12 release of Darkness in Primetime, I’m excited to offer one lucky Goodreads reader a free copy—winner’s choice of paperback or eBook edition!

Here’s how to enter:

1. Add Darkness in Primetime to your Goodreads Want to Read shelf.
2. Email me at mitchell-at-itsabouttv-dot-com OR leave a comment below with your Goodreads username or a screenshot showing you've added the book.
3. Optional but appreciated: Follow me on Goodreads to stay updated on future news and giveaways.

Deadline to enter: August 10

Winner notified: August 12

If you have a Goodreads account, now’s the perfect time to join the fun!

Also, today (July 30), I can be heard on Channel 2 of The Authors Show® discussing "Darkness in Primetime." It's about 15 minutes and can be heard throughout the day tomorrow. Tune in if you have a few; I'd appreciate it! TV  

What's on TV? Monday, July 25, 1955

Usually, it's not too difficult to figure out network affiliations, even without looking at the channel guide at the beginning of the listings. I have to admit, however, that this Lake Ontario edition is a challenge. Not only do we have a couple of Canadian stations broadcasting American programming, we still have DuMont to deal with, not to mention an ABC lineup that's so negligible, almost every split affiliate (and there are none solely dedicated to ABC in this issue) chooses to air the other network's programming. But you'll have a great time looking at them anyway!

This week in TV Guide: July 23, 1955

I don't know if the editors of TV Guide have a vendetta against Arthur Godfrey, or if they just know a good story when they see one, but ever since the Old Redhead sacked Julius LaRosa on a live broadcast, and then began purging employees on a scale not equaled since, except, perhaps, by George Steinbrenner firing New York Yankees managers). This week, the magazine continues a series on former Godfrey employees (LaRosa himself was on the cover of last week's issue), and the latest to join this not-so-select group is vocalist Marion Marlowe.

Marlowe was dismissed by Godfrey in April, along with singer Haleloke and vocal group The Mariners—two months later, she says she still has no idea why Godfrey fired them. She has to maintain a certain circumspection, considering that her husband, Larry Puck, still works for Godfrey as producer of his Talent Scouts program, and so while she continues to insist that she isn't bitter, she answers other questions by saying, "I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me." When she was fired, following a Friday morning program, her first thought was that she supports her mother and grandparents, and that, "come next Monday, I won't have a job." The concern didn't last long; one of Godrey's nemeses, Ed Sullivan, promptly signed her for six appearances on his show for $18,000, a handsome improvement on her $1,500 per week she earned with Godfrey. She also has a deal working for a gig in Vegas, and clubs in Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and Chicago. 

Marlowe with husband Puck and his
grandson from a previous marriage.

Still, despite those protestations, Marlowe pleaded the fifth when asked if Godfrey showed favoritism to any members of his "family." She also refuses to parrot the standard line from other former Godfrey employees that, "All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to Mr. G." Instead, she says, "Now that it’s all over, I feel happy and free. It’s a whole new life, like a page being turned in a book. You look back at that last page with gratification, then forward to the next." Rumors have swirled that Godfrey was opposed to her relationship with Puck, which culminated in their marriage in May, and tried to break up the romance; when asked if this was true, she evasively replies, "Not in so many words. But you can bet that we heard about it on the grapevine." (Puck had already been fired from Godfrey's main show the previous December.) There's no doubt, though, that she looks forward to the future; she's hoping for a Broadway show, and perhaps her own series on TV. "I think I’m a very lucky girl that all this happened to me." Although, the article concludes, "What 'all this' means, she doesn’t say."

The series continues next week with a look at The Mariners, and if TV Guide is determined to feature a former Godfrey employee each week, it looks as if they aren't going to be running out of material any time soon. As I said, whether you're on his side or not, he makes for good copy. 

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Regular readers know how I can seldom pass by a mention of The $64,000 Question (or other quiz shows of the era) without stopping to mention the Quiz Show Scandal. I just can't help it; one of the small pleasures of being a historian is finding articles such as these, where we know how the story ends, and thus have the privilege of reading them with a certain ironic hindsight. In this case, the article in question (no pun intended) is Dan Jenkins's review of "the most talked-about show on all television," and how it's likely to retain its place until the money runs out. 

As is the case with so many early television programs, The $64,000 Question traces its roots to radio, in this instance The $64 Question, in which the grand prize was, indeed, $64.00—"the epitome of loot" back in the day. In the TV version, the questions start at $64. Jenkins runs briefly through the rules of the game (Jean Renoir pun intended): answer four questions, and you're up to $512; three more get you to $4,000 plus a Cadillac convertible; the $8,000, $16,000, $32,000 and $64,000 levels follow, with the contestant having a week to decide whether or not to go for the additional dough, or keep what he's already won. The catch, of course, is that if he misses, he loses everything, except the Caddy. And the lucky contestant gets to answer these questions from the comfort of a soundproof glass booth. It really is the perfect setup for drama.

As Jenkins points out, we have the guarantee of the producers that the questions, "compiled by a scholarly Board of Editors," have been locked in a vault, and even host Hal March doesn't know what they are. I suppose this might technically be true, since Jenkins doesn't actually say the contestants themselves don't know the answers, because, of course, some of them do. (As, apparently, March did not.) The show seems to have a promising future; Jenkins describes it as "enormously entertaining," and reminds us that "Money, after all, still talks." As do disgruntled former contestants.

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There aren't many actors associated with a single role as much as Jack Webb is with Dragnet. Although he was responsible for several other programs, most notably Emergency! and Adam-12, it is the stoic sergeant Joe Friday that most resonates with the public when they think of Jack Webb. And that's a problem. For Jack Webb.

Joe Friday swings!

Dragnet began on radio in 1949, and it's about to begin its fourth television season, with production starting in October. It's one of the most successful programs on television, a pioneer in the genre to be known as the police procedural. But Webb's tired of the role. With his contract requiring him to produce 55 more episodes, he's been "desperately" trying to promote Friday to lieutenant and bring in a new actor to play sergeant.* Webb's not looking to take it easy, though. He has his eyes on a new project, called Pete Kelly's Blues, the pilot for which is scheduled to premiere in theaters later this month at a price tag of $1,100,000, making it the most expensive pilot ever made. It boasts big-name co-stars, including Janet Leigh, Edmond O'Brien, Peggy Lee, and Ella Fitzgerald. It has the added draw of being shot in color and CinemaScope. Should the movie be a commercial hit, Webb will have the option of turning Kelly into a weekly series. 

*When Dragnet premiered on television, Webb actually wanted Lloyd Nolan to play Friday, but it was thought that Webb was too associated with the role from the radio series for anyone else to take it on.

The question remains: will the viewing public accept Webb in a different role, that of a jazz musician? That is, to coin a phrase, the $64,000 question. (Where have I heard that before?) Webb himself is a jazz enthusiast, and the role obviously has a great personal appeal for him; he developed and wrote the original 13 Kelly episodes that played on radio in the summer of 1951. He denies, though, that his interest in the new project has caused him to "slough off" Dragnet; "If we spent less time on the last batch, it was only because the crew has shaken down to the point of having one of the smoothest filming organizations in the business," he says. "But just ask any of the actors around here if I’ve been sloughing off on ’em. Dragnet is still as good as we can make it, and I think the ratings bear me out."

I probably don't need to tell you the rest of the story: although Peggy Lee cops a supporting actress Oscar nomination, Pete Kelly's Blues does not lead immediately to a series; and when it does, in 1959, Webb casts William Reynolds in the title role. Dragnet, meanwhile, continues on television until 1959 (pumping out 39 episodes a year for most of that run), and though Friday does eventually win his promotion to lieutenant, it's only temporary; when Dragnet returns to the small screen in 1967, he's back as a sergeant again. And still popular. 

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In the 1950s, you could expect to see almost anything on television, including a version of Musical Chairs. At least that's the title of this quiz show (Saturday, 9:00 p.m., NBC), which has perhaps the most distinguished panel we've ever seen on such a show: Johnny Mercer, Mel Blanc, and Bobby Troup*. Bill Leyden is the emcee. Later on, we have Star Tonight (10:30 p.m., ABC), the show that casts "rising young actors and actresses" in leading roles. Tonight's new star: Theodore Bikel, who will go on to a pretty fair career as actor and singer both.

*Fun fact: Bobby Troup will marry Jack Webb's ex-wife, Julie London, in 1959. They'll both star in Webb's later series Emergency! 

The Colgate Variety Hour (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., NBC) is hosted by the man of the issue, Jack Webb, in an hour-long preview of Pete Kelly's Blues, with co-stars Peggy Lee, Ella Fitzgerald, and Janet Leigh, and backed by the "Pete Kelly Combo," led by Ray Anthony. Talk about an hour-long infomercial! That's up against Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town (8:00 p.m., CBS), with Guy Mitchell guest-hosting for the vacationing Ed; his guests are Polly Bergen, ventriloquist Arthur Worsley, and the band and color guard of the First Infantry Division. And at 9:00 p.m. on NBC, it's the Philco Television Playhouse, with Paul Newman starring in "The Death of Billy the Kid," written by Gore Vidal. This isn't the only time Newman plays The Kid; in 1958, he reprises the role in the big-screen movie The Left Handed Gun, based on Vidal's teleplay.

Monday night on Producers' Showcase (8:00 p.m., NBC, in color), the husband-and-wife tandem of Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy star in the two-character drama "The Fourposter," the story of a married couple spanning 35 years, based on the Broadway play of the same name, in which they also starred. Meanwhile, Voice of Firestone (8:30 p.m., ABC) features another husband-and-wife team, opera stars William Warfield and Leontyne Price, singing selections from Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess," as well as duets from Mozart and Jerome Kern.  

Jack Webb's talent obviously doesn't extend to writing program descriptions for TV Guide; check out the one for Tuesday's episode (8:00 p.m., NBC): "Sgt. Joe Friday and Officer Smith investigate a crime." Well, that ought to narrow it down a bit. Looking at more specific descriptions, the summer replacement show Music 55, hosted by bandleader Stan Kenton, features a pair of musical greats as guests: violinist Yehudi Menuhin and jazz pianist and composer Duke Ellington. It doesn't get much better than that. (8:30 p.m., CBS)

We seldom stop to look at the boxing cards here, even though boxing remains a dominant fixture in primetime, but the Pabst Blue Ribbon Bouts (Wednesday, 10:00 p.m., CBS) features what one insider predicts could be "one of the best fights of the summer," with future light-heavyweight champion Willie Pastrano taking on up-and-coming Chuck Spieser, live from Chicago Stadium. After that, Steve Allen's Tonight (11:30 p.m., NBC) features singer-actor Allan Jones, father of Jack Jones. 

One of Thursday's highlights comes from the suspense drama Climax! (8:30 p.m., CBS), with Michael Rennie starring in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," adapted from the Robert Louis Stevenson novel by the prolific Gore Vidal. Sir Cedric Hardwicke co-stars. On Ford Theatre, Edward G. Robinson makes a rare television appearance in "And Son," a domestic drama about a husband and wife quarreling over whether or not their soldier-son should join the family business. And once again, Steve Allen rounds off the evening on Tonight with jazz great Dave Brubeck and Jonathan Winters. (11:30 p.m., NBC)

Windows—no, not the operating system, but a half-hour anthology series that serves as the summer replacement for Person to Person—presents a one-character drama tonight (10:30 p.m., CBS), "Rose's Boy," with Judith Evelyn as a woman explaining to an unseen young man how his mother died. What I find interesting about this is not the episode itself, but the handwritten note in the margin of the issue I'm looking at, which had to come from the announcement of the following week's story at the end of this episode: "The Love Letters of Smith," starring Eileen Heckart. You don't often get that kind of first-hand interaction from these old issues, and it's kind of cool to see the reminder that a real person actually read this. 

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Finally, a plea for sanity when it comes to television weather coverage. The man making the plea is Francis K. Davis, Jr., a staff meteorologist at WFIL in Philadelphia (a station we've seen frequently), and a member of the American Meteorological Society. It seems that sponsors have fallen in love with the five-minute TV spots that have become a standard part of local news coverage, so much so that the airwaves are now filled with "a rash of so-called 'weathermen' and 'weathergirls,' who breeze through alleged weather information, 'embellished' with philosophy, wisecracks, costume changes and gimmicks. And for this," Davis notes, "they earn up to $40,000 a year."

The problem with all this jocularity is that weather is important. "To many viewers," Davis says, "it may determine where they go, how they go, what they wear, even what they earn." In other words, viewers deserve personnel who take their jobs as seriously and with as much dignity as those presenting the news. Instead, "most 'weathermen' were primarily entertainers, whose only qualification was an ability to use a telephone and a pencil—the first, to call the nearest U.S. Weather Bureau office; the second, to jot down the results of the conversation."

Davis goes on to say that "if TV weathermen are going to pose as experts, we feel they should be experts." Among his recommendations is that weathermen make use of on-air display of the "seal of approval," indicating that they're qualified to prepare forecasts, something that has, by and large, come to pass. 

One of the trends that has evolved as a result of weather's popularity is the advent of the "weathergirl." Ah, yes, the weathergirl. Did you have them in your local market? Here's but a sampling of some of the nation's most popular practitioners of the art:

The one example I left off this montage is Milwaukee's Judy Marks; it's not that she isn't attractive, but she really doesn't count for our purposes, since she actually did study basic meterology before joining the staff of WOKY.

Lest there be any misunderstanding, Davis stresses that this is not necessarily a bad thing. "For don’t misunderstand. We heartily approve TV’s use of pretty girls, like the ones shown. But unless they’re qualified, we’d be happier if—on TV, as on a date—they’d talk about anything except the weather." TV  

Around the dial

Before we get to the heart of things, an addendum to Wednesday's book reviews. In addition to posting them here, I've also shared them on Amazon, and I can't stress enough how important an Amazon review is for authors. Reviews affect the algorithms that determine which books shoppers see (the more, the better), they give a sense of legitimacy to a book, and positive reviews may encourage other readers to try these books out. Now, obviously, I'm not encouraging you to lie and leave a good review for a bad book, but speaking as someone with a book coming out next month, I urge you to take a couple of minutes and leave a review of it at Amazon or wherever you happen to have purchased it. Even negative reviews, written constructively, can be helpful to us, and of course, positive reviews can make all the difference. So please, when you've finished that book, let everyone know what you think of it. This concludes today's public service announcement.

Speaking of book reviews, Martin Grams has a quartet of them himself, with books on Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., movie star Deanna Durbin, Peter Marshall's memories of Hollywood Squares (a terrific book; I can vouch for it personally), and Peter Mark Richman's bio. Check them out.

At bare-bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project continues with "The Pearl Necklace," a sixth season teleplay by Peggy and Lou Shaw that tells a nasty tale of greed and deception; the luminous Hazel Court, the smarmy Jack Cassidy, and the manipulative Ernest Truax star.

When last we visited Cult TV Blog, John was taking us through a pair of episodes from the British series P.R.O.B.E, neither of which was the first episode. We get that this week, in "The Zero Imperative," with Whovians Sylvester McCoy, Peter Davison, Colin Baker, Jon Pertwee, Caroline John and Louise Jameson. And Linda Lusardi. Yes!

The always-valuable Broadcast Archives gives us a look at what prime time television was like in the late 1940s. Some of the footage in this video is not just rare, but drenched in the history of television, perhaps the only look we'll ever have at some of the shows from this era.

At The View from the Junkyard, Roger takes us on an A-Team revenge trip in the first season finale, "A Nice Place to Visit," a darker and more serious episode than usual. Will the Team be able to even the score with the small-town rednecks who killed their old war buddy? What do you think?

Kenneth Washington, the last surviving regular on Hogan's Heroes (he played Baker in the show's final season) died this week, age 87. He never got the credit he deserved for the impossible task of replacing Ivan Dixon in the cast; Pop Culture has the story.

At Classic Film and TV Corner, Maddie reviews five significant movies from one of my favorite eras in movie history, the British New Wave, popularly known as "kitchen sink drama." I have to be in a certain mood to watch them, but when I am, there's nothing better out there. TV  

Four for reading

We're talking books this week, and for a change it's not my book we're talking about. Rather, I've got a pile "to be reviewed" books that have piled up while I've been typing away, and now, with the release of Darkness in Primetime less than a month away, it's time to catch up on a few of these.

First up is my friend Dan Budnick's wonderful new Doctor Who book, When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who. This two-volume set (volume one covers what we might call "classic" Who, while volume two picks up the show after the revival) covers the entire run of the show, up to and including the episodes that aired earlier this year, so when I say nothing is missing in them, I mean it.

When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who (Volumes 1 and 2)

by Daniel R. Budnick

Throckmorton Press

2025

One of the many features of these books that makes them stand out from other "episode guides" is that Dan's analysis is not limited to a three-or-four paragraph description of the whole story; instead, he literally takes things episode by episode, and if you're at all familiar with the way classic Who was structured, you'll know that each story generally consisted of somewhere between four and six episodes (with some of them lasting even longer than that). This means that instead of, say, three-quarters of a page per story, you're getting a writeup that runs four pages or more, and includes not just a description of the episode, but also the original date of broadcast, writing credits, and the cliffhanger ending. He's going to tell you what the story is, not just what it's about, and an ideal way to read is after you've viewed the episode, rather than before. In other words, it augments your viewing pleasure.

As I mentioned, there's a temptation to refer to these kinds of books as "episode guides," but in this case, this would be a disservice. What Dan's really done here is to compose a mini-essay on each episode, containing his personal opinions, observations, and asides to the reader. You'll get factoids that you might not have been aware of; you'll also find yourself looking at some episodes in a different light.

Through it all, Dan's longtime love of the series emerges. He doesn't whitewash things; if something is worth picking on, he'll pick on it—but affectionately. Nowadays, it's become so fashionable for books about television shows to fall into one of two categories: either a fawning, sycophantic tomb that reads more like a press release than anything else; or else a cynical reiterpretation of a well-loved show that aims to upend everything anyone had ever thought of it, withe the ultimate message that you were a fool to ever enjoy this series in the first place. Thankfully, this book is neither: it's for fans, by a fan, who wants to share his enjoyment with everyone else. If some history books come across as lectures, this one is more like sitting around in the living room with a good friend and yakking about what you've just seen. Believe me, those are the best kinds of conversations to have, and When I Say Read, Read, is the best kind of book to give it to you.

Full disclosure: Dan and I share the same publisher, Throckmorton Press. I can assure you that I have, in no way, been compensated or influenced by that.

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Next up are a pair of reissues that showed up as a pleasant surprise in the mail from Cutting Edge, and each takes us behind the scenes to see how the television industry actually operates. I doubt that many people are naive enough to think that the business is all sweetness and light, but Daniel Paisner and Vance Muse bring home the drama behind the scenes, in stories that are, arguably, more entertaining than the programs themselves.

Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilot

by Daniel Paisner (with an introduction by Phoef Sutton) 

Cutting Edge

2023

We'll begin with Paisner's Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilot. The pilot in question was called Word of Mouth, and if it doesn't ring any bells, that's because it never even made it to air, let alone series status. That it didn't is a story of industry politics, commercial constraints, timing, and above all, luck. 

Word of Mouth, which started out as E.O.B. (for "Executive Office Building," the building where the speechwriters are housed), then The War Room, before lighting on its final title, had a lot going for it. It was created by Bruce Paltrow, Tom Fontana, and John Tinker, who had just come off of the success that was St. Elsewhere. And, given that most workplace dramas center around office politics in the first place, what could be better than the ultimate political setting of speechwriters working for the president of the United States? It was a concept that promised, in one observer's words, "smart drama." Instead, it left those involved with it experiencing the same kind of "smarts" that one gets from, say, dropping a sledgehammer on a bare foot.

Providing us with his first-hand witness to the events is Paisner, a freelance writer who'd somehow convinced Paltrow, et. al to grant him "unprecedented access" to the process of making a television pilot. And Paltrow gives us the eyewitness view of the entire sordid affair: the painstaking process of script development, the myriad challenges posed in the production stage (just how far apart should those desks in the War Room be placed, anyway?), interference from network suits, and the harsh truth of how few pilots actually make it to the small screen, let alone series status. I often joke about those "failed pilot playhouse" anthologies that used to populate summertime television in the 1960s and 1970s, but in fact it says much for those projects that they even got to that point. Show gives us the whole, unvarnished truth, in glorious, painful, detail. 

Perhaps nothing speaks to the deadly accuracy of Paisner's book more than the reaction of Bruce Paltrow after reading the finished manuscript. "What the hell were we thinking," Paltrow grumbled, "letting you in like this?" When Paisner asked him what he'd gotten wrong, Paltrow ruefully replied, "Nothing. Not a single thing. It's just, you've made us look like complete fucking idiots." 

But that was not Paisner's intent, nor is that the impression the reader gets from Show. (Well, maybe just a little, but you know what I mean.) Remember that the greatest baseball hall of famers still failed seven out of every ten times they came to the plate, and the success ratio has to be at least that severe in the television business. For even the greatest television minds, failure is not only an option, it's a reality. Sometimes it's a line of dialogue, sometimes an episode, sometimes an entire concept. Had Paltrow, Fontana, and Tinker been lesser figures in the industry, they might not even have gotten this far. That they did is, ultimately, a success; after all, if you can't play the game, you'll never even get to bat.

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Vance Muse's Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Series, like Show, telegraphs its ending from its subtitle. It, too, seemed to be a good bet, created by Jay Tarsus, who'd already done The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd, Buffalo Bill, and The Bob Newhart Show/ Unlike Word of Mouth, Smoldering Lust—which wound up being called Black Tie Affair—actually made it to NBC's schedule, premiering on May 29, 1993, and starring Bradley Whitford and Kate Capshaw. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there: scheduled for thirteen episodes, only five were aired before the axe fell.

Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Series

by Vance Muse (with an afterword by Ken Levine)

Cutting Edge

2024

The show's premise, for those of you who don't remember it (and, judging by its short run, that would be most of you) was a 1940s detective spoof set in San Francisco involving Whitford's character, Dave Brodsky, as a P.I. investigating a philandering tycoon. Now, how a viewer is supposed to glean that premise from the title Black Tie Affair may be one of the first indications that this show was in trouble, but it was far from the only one. Its initial test screening would have made a fine after-dinner show on the last night of the Titanic; the premiere episode was heavily delayed, and its abrupt death—make it compelling, if sometimes painful and occasionally hilarious, reading.

Muse's tone is engaging, clear, and witty. Readers get to meet all the different personalities involved in putting together a television series—what they do, how they interact, how important each of them is to the overall success of a series. And their job isn't an easy one, especially when the life of a series is very much up in the air. Does the writer stick it out with the show, committed to seeing it through to the end? Or, as his agent fervently hopes, does he put himself back out on the market, realizing that if he doesn't look after himself, nobody else will, either?

Once again, the overall impression is one of politics, network interference, enormous egos, and good intentions going awry. You're apt to wonder how anything ever makes it to television, which makes one admire the long-term hits even more, but we ought to save some applause for the ones that fall short as well, for it's a small miracle that they got even that far. Just because said series fails to become an established hit does not mean that these people aren't good at what they do, or that they haven't done it well in this case. Sometimes things just don't work out; what seemed like a good idea in concept may not have worked in delivery, or it may have been the right idea at the wrong time. What undoubtedly was the right idea at the right time, however, was that the stories behind these shows be preserved for the rest of us to read. Sometimes, in television as in real life, failure makes for the most interesting story of all.

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And now for something completely different. If you're like me (and, once again, I hasten to add that I hope you aren't, for your own good), you probably know Edward Everett Horton primarily as the droll narrator of the "Fractured Fairy Tales" that appeared as one of the features on the various Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. You might also remember him as Chief Roaring Chicken on F Troop. You might even have seen him, playing characters of similar temperament, in various musicals and other movies of the 1930s and 1940s, many of them bearing legendary titles such as Top Hat, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, and Arsenic and Old Lace. But when it comes down to brass tacks, how much do any of us know about the man? And how do we know whether or not his story will be interesting?

The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Horton

by Lon and Debra Davis 

Bear Manor Media

2025

I can't answer the first question, but as to the second, we have nothing to fear when we're in the hands of veteran authors Lon and Debra Davis, who, in The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Horton, bring their amazing knowledge of cinema to this biography. And, typical of the work they've done in the past, you're going to come away not only entertained, but educated, with a mini-history lesson on film that puts Horton's work in context, allowing us to appreciate what a truly talented actor he was. 

Horton's career spanned not only movies, but the stage, radio, and ultimately television, and each step enabled him to be appreciated by a wider, more varied audience. He worked with some of the best, most talented, professionals in the business, actors who thrived under Horton's deft supporting touch. We hear from many of them, thanks to the Davises research, as well as from Horton himself, through various interviews and writings that give his story in his own voice. We also learn more about Horton the man, in personal details that are presented with deftness and subtlety, always enhancing, rather than distracting us, from the story.

As was the case with Mr. Budnick above, the Davises are personal friends, but I think I can say that this does not color my appraisal of their books. The fact is that, with so many books about media studies out there, it can be difficult to know where to begin. One way in which that is accomplished is to look back at the track record of those authors who've made the rounds before, who've earned their stripes, so to speak, by demonstrating their expertise in their subject matter. I don't know anyone who knows more about early cinematic history than Lon and Debra Davis, and I'm not sure how many historians there are out there who can share their knowledge in as engaging and informative way—not to mention charming—as they do. 

It's unfortunate that it's taken me as long as it has to review these four books, because for those of you who look for reading recommendations, it may have delayed your enjoyment of them. You may not have known that you needed a book on Edward Everett Horton, that you needed to read stories of failed television ventures, that you needed such a detailed review of Doctor Who. You may not have realized that you not only needed them, you'll come away from having read them wondering how you were able to go for so long without knowing about them. But trust me, it's true in every case. TV  

What's on TV? Saturday, July 16, 1966

I've probably mentioned this before (when has that ever stopped me, though?), but it's quite remarkable to see how the United States has changed from an agricultural-based economy to one that is largely urbanized and service-based, all in the course of my lifetime. Now I know I'm old, but still, look at the number of programs this morning that are ag-based: Agriculture U.S.A., White Collar Farmer, Voice of Agriculture, Focus on Farming, plus a couple of agriculture films. And then there are the Western series, Western movies, and programs that aim for the rural demographic. This isn't that uncommon in issues from around the country, but you see it particularly in Northern California, where this week's issue is based. Another time capsule moment?

This week in TV Guide: July 16, 1966

You might think that being the captain of the most sophisticated nuclear submarine the world has ever seen, with the opportunity to travel the world on scientific missions, encountering strange underwater life and outer space aliens, would be enough for most men. But not for David Hedison. The co-star of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (along with Richard Basehart and the Seaview itself) still struggles with being, in his words, "one of the nameless heroes of television." From being mistaken for John Derek to having his name mispronounced, it's part of the terrain for a man who can only say, "I wish I had an image." 

Part of it, as I suggested, is that he often has third billing next to Basehart and the submarine. And, in fact, the whole premise of Voyage requires something of a suspension of disbelief. "If you can make this believable," he says, "you have really accomplished something." He points to a quote from Basehart that "'Richard III' was easier than this because the lines were there." to show that he appreciates the real accomplishment when an actor can "take nothing and make something of it." At the same time, though, there's only so far you can take it. A co-worker, complimenting him, points out that "He doesn't take himself seriously. He knows it's just a comic strip." And Hedison himself envies an actor like The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s Robert Vaughn, who "can go so many places and be with women and wear a tuxedo."

Still, there's no doubting that Hedison has come a long way from the times when he would sell his blood at $5 a pint to pay for acting lessons from Uta Hagen. His talent was recognized at an early date by both Hagen and Fredric March; Hagen said of him that "He had a wild temperament, a tremendous eagerness to make good in the theater. He had great promise." He won a 1956 Theatre World Award for his performance in the off-Broadway play "A Month in the Country," the only actor from an off-Broadway production to win. He was signed by 20th Century-Fox to appear in The Enemy Below, a submarine movie.* But since then, his primary claim to pre-Voyage fame came from his starring role in the now-cult classic movie The Fly, when he was known as Al Hedison. 

*Interestingly, the article doesn't mention that Hedison was originally offered the role of Captain Crane in Irwin Allen's original big-screen version of Voyage, but turned it down; Robert Sterling wound up playing the captain. Hedison would also turn down the role of Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch, a move I susped he didn't regret.

For all his doubts about Voyage, he understands the nature of the television business. "When Voyage first started I was apprehensive and didn’t like to talk about it. But then I watched the other shows on television, and I decided ours was nothing to be ashamed of." It's difficult, though, to not look back at his original hopes in the business. Hagen, for one, was sorry to see him go to Hollywood. "Young people see a chance to make some money; and then, without even realizing it, they get trapped. The last time I saw him, when he was visiting New York, he seemed sad. The fire had gone." And Hedison, who spent the Voyage hiatus in London attending the serious plays he still wants to do, followed by a stint in "The Teahouse of the August Moon" near Los Angeles. And then there's the role that still awaits him, that of Felix Leiter in a pair of James Bond movies; but that's another story.

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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: Guests include Ed’s guests are Dinah Shore; comics Jackie Vernon and Dick Capri; Sgt. Barry Sadler; the rock ‘n’ rolling Four Tops; puppet Topo Gigio; guitarist José Feliciano; Les Feux Follets, Canadian folk dancers; and Markworth and Mayana, bow-and-arrow act. Rock ‘n’ rollers Simon and Garfunkel are seen performing in a recently taped segment. (The show originally aired on January 30; the Simon & Garfunkel segment was taped and added to this broadcast.)

Palace: Hostess Kate Smith introduces singer-dancer Juliet Prowse; singer-composer Charles Aznavour; Avery Schreiber and Jack Burns, who offer a comedy sketch about a talking vending machine; Charlie Cairoli and Company in a slapstick routine about a bakery; the Eight Rodos, German tumblers; comic Albert T. Berry; and illusionist Prasano Rao.

It almost seems un-American to go against Kate Smith this week, particularly with Chrlees Aznavour at her side, but let's face it: Dinah Shore, José Feliciano, the Four Tops, and Simon and Garfunkel. So nothing can be finah than Dinah, which gives Sullivan the victory this 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. 

We come to you under somewhat false pretenses this week, as Judith Crist subs for Our Man Cleve, who's on vacation for the summer. And we couldn't have a better show for her to lead off with than the "Outstanding Dramatic Series of 1965," The Fugitive. As the series prepares to enter its fourth and final season (and first in color), Crist steps back to look at just what it is that has made the adventures of Dr. Richard Kimble such compelling viewing, week after week.

After all, the basic framework, which features the good doctor escaping from the clutches not only of the police, but any number of onlookers wishing Kimble ill, "is enough to try the patience of the most gullible among us." For even though it's a given that "the various arms of the law Kimble almost inevitably encounters in each episode are going to be too stupid to recognize him or, if he is recognized, too inept or kindhearted to capture him in the midst of the good deeds he is almost inevitably involved in, we still want to have the empathic thrill of skirting danger and facing doom along with our hero." And besides, common sense tells us that he can't be captured until 1) the series goes off the air, or 2) it changes its title. So what is it that keeps America tuning in to watch its favorite fugitive from justice elude the forces of law and order?

First and foremost is the performance of David Janssen, who plays Kimble "as one of the least monotonous of the secret-sorrow, dogooding, compassionate humanists  to have come our way; he’s remarkably durable on the eyes, interesting in the performance." There's also a freshness in the show's approach, in the "scene, plot and characters that the hero's rootlessness, an able assortment of scriptwriters and directors, and an astute producer provide." In the last three weeks alone, we've seen Kimble match wits with William Shatner (an unequal contest, to say the least) at an exclusive boys' club, Mickey Rooney in a self-serve laundry, and Melvyn Douglas as a neurophysicist. Oh, and did we mention Barry Morse as Lieutenant Gerard. Coincidences may abound, plots may be padded, and storylines may get tangled in overcomplexity, but the secret is in "letting the illogic of the format go by and riding with its presumptions." It is, Crist concludes, "a secret most of us have stumbled on."

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When you've been doing this gig for fifteen years, you look for different angles to approach the highlights of the week. That's especially true during the summer, when, to be honest, it's hard to find anything fresh to talk about. One thing we've noted many times in the past is how, in these pre-VCR days, reruns were the only way to catch up with the shows you'd missed, for one reason or another, earlier in the season. So this week, we'll concentrate on some of those episodes you'll want to see with that second chance. 

Saturday is one of those nights where it seems as if everyone's going to pick their channel and stick with it: ABC with The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet at 7:30 p.m., The Donna Reed Show at 8:00, Lawrence Welk at 8:30, and The Hollywood Palace at 9:30. Over on NBC, you've got Flipper, I Dream of Jeannie, Get Smart, and Saturday Night at the Movies. CBS is the odd man out, at least for part of the evening; at 7:30 it's Continental Showcase, the summer replacement for The Jackie Gleason Show; this week, Jim Backus hosts, with the Swingle Singers leading a group of international acts; Secret Agent at 8:30, with Drake working at a pirate radio station to track down a spy; and The Face is Familiar, with Jack Whittaker hosting celebrity guests Pearl Bailey, Allen and Rossi, and Mel Brooks. Ordinarily the night would be capped with Gunsmoke at 10:00, but this week it's preempted by the Miss Universe Pageant.

It's no surprise that Branded only survived for two seasons, considering the series on at the same time: The FBI on ABC, and The Ed Sullivan Show on CBS. Nonetheless, this Sunday gives us the second of a two-part story in which our hero (Chuck Connors) finds himself in the middle of a war between landowners and gypsies. (8:30 p.m., NBC) You've also got a choice to make at 10:00 p.m.; if you've started watching the ABC Sunday Night Movie at 9:00, you're going to pass up CBS's Candid Camera and NBC's The Wackiest Ship in the Army, which heads for the island of Kanapura, and a group of Australian girls who've been spying on Japanese shipping.

The John Forsythe Show (Monday 8:00 p.m., NBC) didn't fare very well as a successor to Forsythe's successful Bachelor Father, but with competition from 12 O'clock High on ABC and I've Got a Secret on CBS, it was probably an uphill struggle even if the show had been better. Tonight, John has to go toe-to-toe in the ring with Moose Grabowski, the academy's new football coach. I'm afraid he doesn't have his angels to help him out, either. Meantime, you may have missed Art Linkletter's Talent Scouts (10:00 p.m., CBS) while you were trying to decide between The Big Valley and Run for Your Life (although The Big Valley started the season on Wedneday), but tonight you can catch a rerun that features Jim Nabors, Jill St. John, and Ray Walston. Unfortunately, they aren't performing; they're just introducing their talent prospects, one of whom is comedian Alan Sues. 

If you're a fan of Daktari on Tuesday nights, you might have missed this tense episode of Combat! in which a lone German sniper takes aim at Saunders' men (7:30 p.m., ABC). They'd wiped out the German squad earlier, and now the survivor plans to pick them off one by one, saving Saunders for last. Since Combat! returns for a final season this fall, it's safe to assume he won't succeed. You also would have missed a double-bill of sitcoms on NBC; first, on My Mother the Car (7:30 p.m.), "Dave is given one last chance to sell the Porter—before Captain Manzini (Avery Schreiber) shrinks the antique auto to the size of a toy." That's followed at 8:00 by Please Don't Eat the Daisies, as a leaky room convinces the family it's time to sell their old home before it becomes a money pit.

Two of the season's big ratings winners come on Wednesday, where Batman (7:30 p.m., ABC) and The Beverly Hillbillies (8:30 p.m., CBS) both finish in the top ten. As an alternative, we've got a Lost in Space episode that features both space werewolves and hillbilly space farmers. (7:30 p.m., CBS) How could you ask for anything more? Meanwhile, ABC's World War II half-hour spy drama Blue Light (8:30 p.m.), which got smashed by Hillbillies in the ratings, stars Robert Goulet as an American double agent who, tonight, is threatened with exposure unless he agrees to become a triple agent by working for the Soviets. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire.

You definitely could use a VCR on Thursday: with Daniel Boone on NBC and part two of the Batman adventure on ABC, how are you going to make room for The Munsters on CBS? (7:30 p.m.) Tonight, the family's pet dragon, Spot, runs away after Herman disciplines him, and heads for the sewers. On the other hand, if you did watch The Munsters, you might have stayed for Gilligan's Island (tonight, featuring the Wellingtons, who sing the show's theme, playing a hit rock group looking to escape from their fans), which means you'll miss Gidget (8:00 p.m., ABC), where Gidget goes for a ride with a friend without telling her father first. Whoops!

Then again, there are some shows that just never had a chance; with The Wild, Wild West and The Flintstones as the opposition, even the rerun season (and Nina Wayne) couldn't save Camp Runamuck (Friday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), with features Arch Johnson's Wivenhoe announcing his plan for a successful diet. Honey West (9:00 p.m.), probably didn't have a prayer against Gomer Pyle, USMC, despite Anne Francis doing double duty tonight, playing both Honey and her lookalike, the notorious thief Pandora Fox. And with The Man From U.N.C.L.E. riding high, the rerun season might have been the only time you'd have watched the British import Court-Martial, starring Bradford Dillman and Peter Graves. (10:00 p.m. ABC) Tonight, an MP goes on trial for killing a German concentration-camp commandant. Breathe easy, though: it's not Colonel Klink.

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We do get some specials along with the reruns this week, and they're doubly special because we can actually watch some of them. 

This week's programming may be preempted or delayed by the launch of Gemini X, which took off, as scheduled, on Monday afternoon for a four-day mission, and I suppose some people might be blasé enough about the space program to look at it as a rerun. On board were astronauts John Young and Mike Collins; Collins, who became the first astronaut to perform two spacewalks, will later be a part of the famed Apollo 11 crew, where, as the sole member of the crew to remain in the capsule during the moon landing, he will be farther away from any other human than anyonce since Creation. Young, for his part, will later walk on the moon, and still later will pilot the first flight of the Space Shuttle. Gemini X splashes down safely on Thursday; the networks will provide complete coverage. Speaking of which, here is NBC's coverage of the launch, with Frank McGee.

I mentioned Miss Universe earlier; Margareta Arvidsson of Sweden is crowned Miss Universe 1966 in the pageant, held in Miami Beach. Pat Boone and June Lockhart are the hosts on the stage, while Jack Linkletter does the honors on the television broadcast, which exists in its entirety on YouTube.

On Tuesday, CBS presents an acclaimed portrait of composer Igor Stravinsky, "considered by many to be the world's greatest living composer," originally shown in May. (10:00 p.m.) The network is probably hoping more people see it this week than did in its original run two months ago. Charles Kuralt is the narrator; you can see a clip from it here.

NBC counters with an original news special on Wednesday, as Moscow bureau chief Kenneth Bernstein narrates an hour-long look at "Siberia: A Day in Irkutsk." It's not the Siberia you think of when you hear of dissidents being exiled there; Irkutsk, a city of nearly a half-million, is not only the cultural center of Siberia, it also has the Trans-Siberian Railroad, not to be confused with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, which may or may not have anything to do with Irkutsk, or anything else for that matter. No freebee, but you might be able to watch it if you subscribe to Peacock+.

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Well, we haven't had a fashion spread here for awhile, and we could go for something that's chic and sleek and modern, and who better to display such wares than Janice Rule, the wife of Ben Gazzara and a pretty fair actress in her own right, in both television and on the big screen.

Here she is modeling the latest from the summer collection of Dynasty of Hong Kong, with a decidedly Oriental accent. Wonder if she wore anything like this while Ben was filming The Killing of a Chinese Bookie? Yes, I know that was made ten years after this, but it's still a good thought.

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MST3K alert: Earth vs. the Spider (1958) Teen-agers in a small community are threatened by a giant spider. Ed Kemmer, June Kenney. (Sunday, 3:00 p.m., KSBW in Salinas) The description is accurate as far as it goes, although the spider isn't selective; it's threatening the whole town, not just the teens. But the real highlight is that June Kenney and Eugene Persson, who play the two teens trapped in the spider's lair, also play teens in episode 607, Bloodlust!, which stars a pre-Defenders Robert Reed. What do you think of that? TV  

Around the dial

I've been reading about the Titanic lately, specifically On a Sea of Glass, the terrific book by Tad Fitch, Kent Layton, and Bill Wormstedt; I'm looking at it right now, in fact, so it's no surprise that we start this week at Realweegiemidget, where Gill is reviewing the 1979 telemovie S.O.S. Titanic, a decent retelling that stars David Janssen as John Jacob Astor, David Warner as Lawrence Beesley, Ian Holm as J. Bruce Ismay, and other stars of the era. If I'd had more time, I might have jumped into this blogathon, but I've had my hands full lately.

I'm also a classic Doctor Who fan, of course, and so you might know I'd be a fan of John's latest post at Cult TV Blog, a look at P.R.O.B.E., the first spin-off from Who, a television show that wasn't really a show but went directly to VHS and then to DVD without passing either go or a TV broadcast. Check it out!

At Comfort TV, David takes the occasion of a recent event in Somerset, Kentucky involving the Dukes of Hazzard General Lee jumping over a fountain as the jumping-off place (see what I did there?) for a look at other classic TV cases of life imitating art. It's nice to remember that we do have fun in this hobby.

Speaking of fun, I was never the biggest fan of The Mike Douglas Show back in the day, but today's talk shows manage to make Mike look like one of the giants of all time. Anyway, the Broadcast Archives looks back at The Mike Douglas Cookbook, featuring recipes from guests who appeared on the show. Fun, and delicious, I'm sure.

And news that's not only great and fun, but great fun: our friend Jodie at Garroway at Large is now the new proprietor of a truly great website, the Monitor Tribute site, dedicated to preserving the legacy of the legendary radio program. I wrote about Dennis Hart's terrific book on Montor several years ago, and I'm so pleased that he's decided to hand the site over to someone who truly cares about it.

At A View from the Junkyard, Roger is back in the world of The A-Team, and this week's episode is "The Beast from the Belly of a Boeing," in which we continue to explore the question of whether or not Murdoch is really mad. Great fun, if you ignore the question Roger poses about pressure equalization in a plane where someone's shot a hole in the side.

From the end of last week, at The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew celebrates the 75th anniversary of the television debut of Your Hit Parade: July 10, 1950. The show predated this debut, of course; it started on radio in 1935, and continued on television until 1959.

And we've got another appearance from yours truly on Dan's Eventually Supertrain podcast, with another delightful episode of Garrison's Gorillas, plus Bronk and Ghosted. If you're not sated after that, I'm afraid I can't offer you anything more. TV