August 9, 2025

This week in TV Guide: August 11, 1973




We lead off this week's lesson in television and sociology with Leonard Gross's meditation on why television has been reluctant to offer women in strong, heroic roles. The impetus for this discussion comes from an ABC Movie of the Week entitled The Bait, starring Donna Mills as a policewoman, which aired last January. It received positive reviews from the critics and terrific ratings. The Movie of the Week franchise itself was known as a proving ground for future series, such as The Night Stalker, Kung Fu, and The Six Million Dollar Man.

And yet, when it came to the new fall season, The Bait remained on the shelf, just one of many series featuring strong female leads that failed to make it to series status. As far as prime time is concerned, says Gross, "women continued to be portrayed as they had been through the years: at best as professional auxiliaries, at worst as self-denigrating, if amusing, idiots in the tradition of Lucille Ball." The closest thing we've seen to an "emancipated" woman may well be Mary Tyler Moore, and we never see her character in front of the camera on her series.

Lee Rich, producer of The Waltons, looks back at the history of strong women on television, actresses such as Barbara Stanwyck, Loretta Young, and Jane Wyman. "I think there are some fantastic actresses who could carry dramatic TV shows today," he says. "But the networks aren't buying women." He points to a proposal for a series that would have starred Stella Stevens as a nurse. "Who wants to see a prime-time series about a woman," he was told by a network official. A similar proposal for a legal drama starring Susan Hayward met a similar fate.

So what gives? Martin Antonowsky, director of research for ABC, says that males always score higher than females in the testing done by the network. And keep in mind, he says, that women outnumber men 52 percent to 48 (no additional genders in those days), which can only mean that women prefer seeing heroic men as well. In fact, he points out, although The Bait scored very high marks from test audiences, their response when asked if they'd like to see it as a series was only "marginally above average." "People tend to accept situations that they consider real," Antonowski says. "When people think of a doctor, lawyer, or detective, they don't tend to think of women. The change has to be a social phenomenon before you can accept it on television." 

Aaron Spelling, who made The Bait, and would go on to offer Charlie's Angels, in which women were unquestionable heroic figures (even though the program itself fell somewhat short on the prestige drama meter), speculates that "for me there's something threatening about watching women in lead roles." This is a viewpoint seconded by writer Fay Kanin: "You can be strong in a comedy show as long as you're funny, but when you're serious, it seems to disturb the men who make the decisions."

Ethel Winant, director for talent and casting at CBS, counters that this is a concern that women share as well as men, looking at the post-war period when women viewed themselves as "perfect mothers" and were inclined to view with resentment heroic female figures on television. "There was a whole period when we created this monster—and we resented the woman who didn't believe in all this. Women of this generation found women leads bossy, unfeminine and not concerned about the things that concerned them." Women, by nature and cultural custom, tend to project a certain vulnerability, something that falls flat with many viewers. "They want a hero who is invulnerable," Winant says. "When Jim Arness walks on in Gunsmoke, you know that all will be OK. The Marshal will always work it out. In daytime, women can relate to mistakes. I could look at my heroine and say, 'She's going through the same things I am.'"

This all makes for a fascinating discussion, particularly when viewed in retrospect. We've become accustomed to strong woman on the screen, taking on roles ranging from police enforcer to political schemer. Antonowski's point, that viewers see these things through a plausibility filter, makes for an interesting proposition, because it seems to run counter to today's view that television itself can—and, in many cases, should—act as an advocate in shaping societal convention. In other words, television could help society as a whole view women as strong figures in traditionally male-dominated positions.

This sounds very much like what Fay Kanin is getting at with her insistence that "You don't ask people questions about what they're going to like. You give them what you believe in. You can very often create your hit that way." It sounds, at least to me, as if she's also suggsting that you can create the environment in which your show not only becomes successful, but helps to change and shape a society in which this viewpoint will become more acceptable, more common.

The discussion strikes at the heart of the conundrum regarding television, which I've written about many times, as to whether it reflects society's attitudes or molds them. The answer is both, but I don't think you can dispute the fact that the pendulum has swung over the years, from a quasi-Lincolnesque attitude that television can't get too far ahead of what the viewer is willing to accept, to one based on advocacy, in which television forcefully demonstrates a particular viewpoint as to how things should be, and continues to beat the drum accordingly.

The reason we enjoy these kinds of discussions is because we've seen what has happened in the half-century that followed this article. Think about Angie Dickinson in Police Woman, Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect, Susan Dey in L.A. Law, Sharon Gless and Tyne Daly in Cagney & Lacey, Sarah Michelle Gellar in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Robin Wright in House of Cards (and her counterpoint in the superior British version, Susannah Harker)—well, those just pop off the top of my head, but there are many, many more. In fact, one might argue that television today features more strong female characters than it does male.

Whether or not this is a good thing is not something I'm about to discuss right here, right now. However, I'd mention one character we haven't discussed here: Donna Reed in The Donna Reed Show. Her character managed a busy household, took on the primary responsibility for successfully raising her children, was an influential partner to her husband as well as a supportive one, and did it all while wearing dresses and pearls and looking glamorous. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. And considering the role that Reed played behind the scenes in the production and shaping of the show, I'd say that was pretty strong as well. Which, perhaps, means that strong and heroic female characters come in all kinds.

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Two of television's definitive rock music shows, NBC's The Midnight Special and ABC's In Concert, faced off on Friday nights in the early '70s. Whenever the two slug it out, we'll be on hand to see who's better, who's best.

Midnight: Comedian Richard Pryor (host), Cajun musician Doug Kershaw, blues singer Albert King, the Electric Light Orchestra, rock singer Joe Walsh, and pop singers Melissa Manchester and Joe Hicks. 

Concert: The gentle sounds of singer-songwriter John Sebastian, complimented by rock from Black Oak Arkansas, Lee Michaels, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and the Electric Light Orchestra.

Ordinarily, I'd automatically give the edge to whichever show featured ELO, but unfortunately that isn't an option, as Jeff Lynne and company do double duty this week. So, we'll see how deep the benches are, and since I'm in the mood for something a little harder, I think I'll stay away from John Sebastian and his granny glasses, and throw my hat in the ring with Richard Pryor, et al. This week, the Special hits all the right notes.

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TV Guide's occasional feature, "The Way It Was," which we last saw in this March 1973 article by Robert Alan Aurthur, returns this week to commemorate the twenty-first anniversary of the premiere of Omnibus, one of the most fascinating and creative programs seen on American television, in an article written by the show's producer, Robert Saudek. The contents of that first program are indicitave of the variety displayed on the series: Rex Harrison and Lili Palmer as Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn; excerpts from a play by William Saroyan and the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Mikado; x-rays demonstrating "human innards at work"; Haitian dancer Jean Leon Destine in a witch-doctor dance; and a slow motion look at a giant jack rabbit in mid flight. All in one 90-minute program, broadcast live on a Sunday afternoon.

I've made the point before, but it bears repeating: Omnibus, like NBC Opera Theatre and G-E College Bowl, was the kind of program networks used to show on Sunday afternoons before they became dominated by sports and infomercials. It was often referred to as the cultural graveyard, because Sunday afternoon was a time when networks could afford to air programs that attracted small, if loyal, audiences, but what these also offered was culture, entertainment, and programs that were interesting as well as educational. They were, as I mentioned on Wednesday while talking about Ayn Rand's appearance on The Tonight Show, the mark of middlebrow culture, something that has disappeared from the scene as surely as the middle-class has followed along.

Live television was its own breed of cat, as it were, and in the case of Omnibus, which proved particularly challenging considering its multiple segments, things could become especially dicey. Saudek recalls one particular occasion during a production of Boswell's "Life of Samuel Johnson" when, following an execution scene, the technicians and extras rushed to another corner of the studio for the next scene, leaving the actor playing the villain hanging from a harness that was intended to hold his weight while his head was in the noose. Soon enough, he felt the harness give way, and only the quick actions of a stagehand who happened to see the unfolding drama prevented some extra excitement in the studio.

Omnibus was a true variety show in every sense of the word. Leonard Bernstein made several apperances on the program, prefiguring his Young People's Concerts, including a never-before-seen look at various sketches of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony that the conductor had rejected, while Jack Benny reprised his role in a television version of his movie The Horn Blows at Midnight, (which I write about in Darkness in Primetime), and the then-husband and wife team of James and Pamela Mason read a series of letters between Napoleon and Josephine. A series of episodes portrayed various events in the life of Abraham Lincoln, dramatized by playwright James Agee. (Stanley Kubrick was one of the second-unit directors on that project.) Not every Omnibus was bent on culture; one episode, included in anoter DVD collection from the show, featured a behind-the-scenes look at a meeting of the editorial board of The New York Times, showing what goes into the preparation of the next day's edition; another show presented the young comedic couple of Mike Nichols and Elaine May, launching them to stardom in the process.

Omnibus, in Saudek's words, "served its drinks straight"—it was not "a TV reporter giving you secondhand samples of 'newsworthy' performances," but the performances themselves; "theater as theater; music as music; dance, history, literature, athletics as living ideas and shows and people. It left journalism to others, and pursued first-generation, 200-proof performance for its own sake." It remains one of the shining monuments of American television, and the fact that we have nothing to compare to it today says much—about the television networks, about the evolution of our culture, about us ourselves. Because those who make television and those who watch it all come from the same gene pool, so to speak: if the fault lies not with ourselves, then where?

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The final major golf tournament of the year, the PGA Championship, wraps up this weekend from the Canterbury Golf Club in Cleveland, and ABC is on hand for coverage of the final two rounds, Saturday at 5:00 p.m., and Sunday at 4:30 p.m. The winner? Ohio's own Jack Nicklaus, who finishes at -7, for a four-stroke victory over Bruce Crampton. Also on Saturday is one of those pilots featuring strong women that was "left on the shelf": Partners in Crime (9:30 p.m., NBC), starring Lee Grant as a former judge-turned-private detective who's on the search for a cool $750,000 stolen in a robbery. Lou Antonio, Harry Guardino, Richard Jaeckel, and Bob Cummings (!) co-star.

Sunday
night's treat is a delightful Columbo episode (8:30 p.m., NBC) featuring Martin Landau in a dual role, as twins suspected of murder. They've implemented an ingenious plan, but do you think it's going to fool the good lieutenant? Not a chance. That's followed by the final episode of Night Gallery (9:30 p.m., NBC) featuring Chuck Connors and Gary Lockwood in a story that bears a passing resemblance to The Twilight Zone's "A Game of Pool." At least, I think so. 

With the NFL season opener a month away, it may be too early for Monday Night Football, but that doesn't mean we're rid of Howard Cosell; Monday's late-night feature on ABC is Howard Cosell with the Miami Dolphins, a two-part look at the defending Super Bowl champions (11:30 p.m.; part two airs tomorrow night at the same time). Among the features are interviews with head coach Don Shula and members of his staff, plus key players and their wives. It'll have to be some preview to fill three hours over two nights.

Tuesday has a little something for everyone, beginning with a repeat of part one of the controversial two-part Maude in which the titular character deals with an unwanted pregnancy. (8:00 p.m., CBS) Opposite that is part one of John Wayne's sprawling Oscar-nominated The Alamo (8:00 p.m., NBC, with part two on Friday). Judith Crist, not surprisingly, isn't that impressed, although she does concede that Wayne makes for a better movie star than director, and "at most it builds to excitement in the last half of the second half." Marginally preferable, in her eyes, is the Rowan and Martin feature The Maltese Bippy (9:30 p.m., CBS), "intended for the pair's insatiable addicts," but highlighted by Mildred Natwick and Martin as Mary Astor and Humphrey Bogart, which justifies "that tolerance, if not the drear in between." And PBS chimes in with a concert by Pink Floyd from the Fillmore East in San Francisco (9:00 p.m.) I must admit, however, that as a Floyd admirer, I've never heard them referred to as "Acid rock." 

I mentioned on Monday that we aren't to the beginning of the NFL season, but that doesn't mean we're without football: on Wednesday, we're treated to some north-of-the-border CFL action, as the Montreal Alouettes take on Joe Theismann and the Toronto Argonauts (8:00 p.m., WKBG in Boston). But the highlight of the night, if not the week, is the repeat of the acclaimed 1971 TV movie Duel (8:30 p.m., ABC), directed by Steven Spielberg and starring Dennis Weaver. Interestingly, Judith Crist isn't overwhelmed by it, saying that it "builds to moderately good suspense, enough to make up for the surplus of voice-over interior thinking." It's since gone on to be considered one of the greatest thrillers of the decade.

Marty Allen and Steve Rossi were one of the more successful comedy teams of the 1960s, but they were no Rowan and Martin, and their 1966 movie The Last of the Secret Agents? (Thursday, 9:00 p.m., CBS) proves it. The plot, such as it is, involves a plan to steal the Venus de Milo, and Crist allows as to how the duo aren't completely to blame for the fiasco; "one should note that they were given pure sow's ear to play with." Elsewhere, Chief Dan George stars in a topical episode of Kung Fu (9:00 p.m., ABC) involving Indian land rights, and any resemblance to contemporary issues of the 1970s is, I'm sure, purely intentional.

As CBS demonstrated with Tuesday's Maude repeat, the summer is a terrific time to bury those controversial programs that the network may be contractually obligated to repeat, and another example is David Rabe's Tony Award-winning play "Sticks and Bones" (Friday, 9:00 p.m., CBS). I wrote about this anti-Vietnam play here, so there's no point in going over it again; suffice it to say that a Friday night during the dog days of summer is a perfect place to hide it.  

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One of the most storied records in all of sports is Babe Ruth's record of 714 home runs. The number itself is burned in the mind of the most casual baseball fan, and for generations, the record seemed so far out of reach that it was unthinkable it would ever be broken. But as we enter the final two months of the baseball season, it's not only thinkable, it's a virtual certainty that the record will fall, at the hands of Atlanta's Hank Aaron. And when it happens, as Marty Ralbovsky tells us, NBC will be there. 

NBC is, of course, the network of record for Major League Baseball, and Til Ferdenzi, sports publicity manager of NBC, says that the network will have crews following Aaron full-time once he reaches 710. "He's going to break the greatest record in sports," Ferdenzi says. "After 713, we might broadcast all Atlanta games live. . . We could pull in an audience of 50 million people for those games. Everybody wants to see history when it happens."

Well, not everybody; Ralbovsky does make mention of the hate mail which Aaron receives, the most threatening of which have been turned over to the Atlanta PD. An example: "You can hit all dem home runs over dem short fences but you can't take dat black off yo face." Fortunately, since the publc learned of the volume and viciousness of the mail, things have turned around; Carla Koplan, assigned by the Braves to serve as Aaron's personal secretary, reports that up to 99 percent of recent mail has been positive, particularly among young people.

At the beginning of the season, Aaron needed 42 home runs to break Ruth's record; after a season in which he finished with 40 home runs and a .301 batting average, he wound up, incredibly, one short of tying the Babe. When it comes time for the 1974 season to begin, a comedy of errors threatens to overshadow the chase; despite Aaron being tantalizingly close, and with the Braves hoping the historic moment can take place at home, the league inexplicably schedules them to begin the season on the road, in Cincinnati. Aaron promptly homers on Opening Day to tie the record, but with the team talking about keeping him on the bench until they return to Atlanta, commissioner Bowie Kuhn threatens the Braves with disciplinary action unless they agree to play Aaron. Fortunately for all concerned, he goes homerless in the remaining games in Cincy, and then breaks the record in the Braves home opener—carried on NBC. For some of us, he's still the all-time home run champion.

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MST3K alert: War of the Monsters, aka Gamera vs. Barugon (Japanese; 1966) Previously shot to Mars in a rocket, but now back for an encore, the monstrous reptile Gamera effects a fateful meeting with the horrible Barugon. Result: civic chaos. Kojiro Hongo. (Thursday, 11:00 p.m., WSBK in Boston) It's the long-awaited sequel to 1965's Gamera, the Giant Monster, and the 13th movie in the epic saga of the flying, flame-spewing turtle who started out as a monster determined to wreak havoc on Tokyo but morphed into "a protector of humanity especially children, nature, and the Earth from extraterrestrial races and other giant monsters." The lesson, I suppose, is to be good to giant monsters, and they'll be good to you. TV  

August 8, 2025

Around the dial




I claim the top spot for myself this week, with a couple of notes. First, if you haven't yet ordered your copy of Darkness in Primetime, you've still got a couple of weeks to get in on the introductory pricing; go here for details. In support of Darkness, I've launched a new series of two-ish minute videos focusing on the book, what went into its writing, behind-the-scenes stories, and more. You can see that video here, and keep up on additional episodes by subscribing to my YouTube channel, or signing up for my newsletter.

You can also hear me on the latest episode of Eventually Supertrain, as Dan and I discuss the latest on Garrison's Gorillas, plus segments on Bronk and Ghosted. As I am prone to say, don't you dare miss it. And now on to some non-Mitchell related goodies.

At bare•bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project continues full steam ahead, with "The Impossible Dream," which is not about Don Quxiote but does tell a nasty story of blackmail, written by Meade Roberts and starring Franchot Tone, Carmen Mathews, and Mary Astor.

We're visiting 1961 in the latest episode of Cult TV Blog, as John looks at The Seven Faces of Jim (not to be confused with The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao), part of a succession of three comedy series starring Jimmy Edwards. This week features a comic spin on Quatermass, and sounds like a hit.

It's short but sweet at the Broadcast Archives, with a singing commercial message from Pottsylvainan TV. If you know what the reference means, you know you're in for something fiunny; if you don't, all the more reason to check it out.

At Comfort TV, David's journey through 1970s TV has arrived at Wednesday nights in 1976, and memories of the dominant ABC schedule, including The Bionic Woman, Baretta, and Charlie's Angels. What did NBC and CBS have to counter them? You'll find out.

The Twilight Zone Vortex returns with a look at the final-season episode "The Long Morrow," with Robert Lansing and Mariette Hartley. I agree for the most part, with Jordan's negative assessment, but I've got to make allowances for the episode's lovely score, made up of stock music.

At Classic Film and TV Corner, Maddie visits the TV adaptation of The Ghost & Mrs. Muir, based on the movie with Gene Tierney and Rex Harrision, which ran from 1968-1970. Our TV version, which more than holds its own, stars Hope Lange and Edwards Mulhare.

Apparently the message that we've had enough of death for one year hasn't kicked in yet, as we add Loni Anderson to the list of those leaving us; at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence pays tribute to this native of Minnesota, so familiar from WKRP and television appearances of all kinds.

Finally, if you know anything about nuclear power, you know that heavy water has nothing to do with heavy bread; no, "Recipe for Heavy Bread" is the latest episode of The A-Team to fall under Roger's microscope at The View from the JunkyardTV  

August 6, 2025

Ayn Rand on The Tonight Show, 1967



Late night talk shows have been quite the topic of conversation lately, and so it seems like a good time to at how an actual, real-life talk show handled an actual, real-life guest.

Ayn Rand, political philosopher and author of Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, among other novels, has never really been out of the public eye, though it's likely that few of the people who read her and debate her ideas today ever had the chance to see her live. So let's take this opportunity to look at footage of Rand appearing with Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show on August 11, 1967. (Johnny's other guests included Florence Henderson and the Temptations—an eclectic show to say the least.)

This was the first of three 1967 appearances by Rand with Carson, and not only does this give us a chance to hear Rand describe the philosophy of Objectivism in her own voice, it points out the vapidity of today's late night talk shows. In fact, Carson's own version of The Tonight Show was a shadow of its former self by the time it came to an end, but it towers as an ivory tower of intellectualism compared to the Three Stooges of late night we currently suffer with. I don't think she suffered fools gladly, and Lord knows she would be confronted with them today*; I rather suspect she would have handed Colbert his head on a platter, while Kimmel and Myers would have been the appetizer and dessert, respectively.

*They remind me of one of my favorite Tom Wolfe quotes, from The Right Stuff: "It was the kind of crowd that would have made the Fool Killer lower his club and shake his head and walk away, frustrated by the magnitude of the opportunity."



I've frequently written in the past about the decline of what Terry Teachout used to refer to as "middlebrow" culture on television. Usually I'm talking about the lack of classical music, drama or documentary shows, but this reminds us that the dearth of smart programming extends to the talk show as well. Sure, you might have been able to find something like this from Charlie Rose (as a matter of fact, offhand he's the only one I can think of who would have done something like this), but perish the thought that a stimulating political discussion (that wasn't also a piece of partisan advocacy) would appear on one of the broadcast networks today. 

As for daytime talk shows—well, we won't even go there; although it would have been interesting to see what Ayn Rand would have done to Oprah. TV  

August 4, 2025

What's on TV? Monday, August 1, 1960




Xhe 10:00 p.m. special on NBC, Holltwood Swings, would seem at first an unlikely vehicle for a trio of Boris Karloff, Tammy Grimes, and Eddie Albert. Karloff acts as host, while Grimes and Albert take a fond (and tongue-in-cheek) look back at musicals, from the early days of sound to more recent offerings. Karloff, of course, has such a cultivated, dignified voice, he could probably read the phone book and make it worthwhile. It originally aired in April, so in case you missed it, here's your chance. We're in the Eastern New England edition again this week.

August 2, 2025

This week in TV Guide: July 30, 1960




Usually, we don't think of a tightrope as being particularly violent. Dangerous, yes, but when someone falls off one while working without a net, we call it tragic, horrible, many other words; but violent isn't generally one of them. And then there's the series Tightrope!, which appears to have fallen victim to precisely that—violence.

For those who aren't familiar with it, Tightrope! was a series that ran on CBS during the 1959-60 season, starring Mike Connors as an undercover agent who, each week, would infiltrate a criminal organization in order to get the goods on their leaders. He was assigned to a different case in a different city each week, assuming an identity appropriate to the situation, but nobody—not even the local police departments—knew his true identity, thus putting him in jeopardy from both the criminals and the cops while carrying out his assignment. So secret was his assignment, even viewers didn't know his real name; he was referred to in the credits as "Nick," but I think I heard I heard his boss refer to him by that name only once. I ran across Tightrope! while perusing the TV Guides of the era (it was syndicated for several years after its initial run), and, the last time I looked, almost every episode was available on YouTube or the Internet Archive. (I reviewed it here a few years ago.)

So far, so good. It wasn't the greatest show on television, but it was far from being the worst, either. The premise was different, the stories were decent, and Mike Connors is always a watchable personality; even the weakest Mannix episodes benefit from his presence. The sponsor, Pharmaceuticals, Inc., liked Tightrope!, complimenting the show's creators, Clarence Greene and Russell Rouse, with doing a "magnificent job." The show's ratings were good: going head-to-head with the successful Western The Rifleman, it had succeeded in knocking that show down from #3 to #9 in the national ratings. While the episodes consistently ran over budget, Greene and Rouse were more than willing to put aside any chance of the show making a profit in order to keep the show's standards high. In April, Pharmaceuticals, Inc. told them to go ahead and get started on the new season, causing Greene and Rouse to give up several other projects, including a "lucrative movie deal." 

However, as Dwight Whitney recounts in this week's cover story, and as so often happens in the slimy world of network television, things changed. On April 15, without any warning, Greene and Rouse "read in a trade paper that CBS had filled their time slot with The Tom Ewell Show, a new comedy." The duo got, in Greene's words, "nothing but double talk" when they talked to the network. The sponsor, while praising the show, told them that, regretfully, "network problems were such that they made continuation of our sponsorship impossible." Greene and Rouse finally went straight to the top, sending a three-page letter to CBS president Frank Stanton and television division president James Aubrey asking for an explanation. They were told that said explanation would come from Oscar Katz, VP in charge of network programming.

And those explanations, for there were very many of them forthcoming, were as follows: first, that the network "'owned a substantial financial interest in the Ewell show' and therefore gave it 'preferential treatment.'" This turned out to be more than a little B.S.; Four Star, the show's producer, claimed the network shared in less than ten percent of the show's profits, and those only when it went to reruns. A second explanation was that the network was looking to establish a comedy block on Tuesday nights, and Tightrope! was the odd man (or show) out.*

*Indeed, the 1960-61 Tuesday night schedule would be made up of comedy and variety shows: repeats of Father Knows best, followed by Dobie Gillis, the Ewell show, The Red Skelton Show, and The Garry Moore Show. However, the network chose to leave the 7:30 p.m. half-hour slot open to the affiliates. Hmm.

Whether or not either of these explanations passes the plausibility test, though, neither would preclude another network from picking up Tightrope! And that brings us to the third, and perhaps most important, factor. As Whitney recounts it, "Under the fire of Congressional investigations rising out of the quiz and payola scandals, 'violence' had become a word to be feared. And there was no denying that Tightrope! was dealing in violence. Its ratings were simply not robust enough to justify the risk." In other words, had Tightrope! been a top-10 performer for the network, its violence would have been perfectly acceptable. But the last time I checked, violence is pretty much the same wherever you go, and whatever you do. Just because it's more popular, or comes with a higher (or lower) pricetag, doesn't make it more or less acceptable. Does it?

So this seems to be the final answer. And the last word comes from someone formerly "high up in the business," who told Whitney this: "What makes a good show? This is the impossible thing to answer. So, because it's impossible, we compound the felony. You don't know what you want, but only what you don't want. Everybody looks at it from their own point of view—like the blind men and the elephant. In TV it all depends on which end you grab. You grab the tail and, if you're not careful, you end up imagining the whole elephant is a rope."

Come to think of it, that explains pretty much everything about the world we live in today, doesn't it? We don't know what we like, only what we don't like. Before you know it, the only choices you have left are bad ones, which really means no choice at all. In the end, you're left with nothing to do but complain about it. And we do a lot of complaining nowadays, don't we?

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I'd like to think that the other item on the cover this week, on how violence on television can be curbed, was meant to be ironic placement. If it wasn't, it should have been. It's a summary of an outline sent to television producers by Kenneth Adam, the controller of television for the BBC, on how said producers should deal with violence. A few highlights:

Children's Programming: The "main danger points" in which the reactions of adults and children may differ are situations "which upset a child's emotional security, arising out of adoption, desertion, cruelty in the house, unwanted children, friction between parents, especially in contemporary settings"; portrayals of injuries or illnesses; "villainous" actions that could be imitated, such as using traps and pitfalls; "bad" habits in "good" characters, such as smoking; the use of weapons that are "easily available," such as knives;* and eerie or fearful atmospheres, especially when accentuated by music. These concerns should be considered regarding any program airing prior to 9:00 p.m.

*The tool of choice for attackers in Great Britain nowadays.

Adult Programs: According to the code, violence "should arise naturally from the story, and be therefore dramatically necessary and defensible"; violence that is "extraneous and designed for depraved effect" should be rejected, and any such natural sequences should not be "unduly prolonged; as with children's programmong, dangerous instruments, other than guns, should be carefully considered to avoid imitation; sound effects should not "distort or magnify the impact of violence," and anyone engaged in fisticuffs should not use "tactics of a vicious or bestial nature"; finally, violence against women or animals "must require special scrutiny." 

Interestingly, the guidelines make a clear distinction between violence, brutality, and combat. "Brutality is not the same thing as violence. Violence is not the same thing as combat. Yet because combat, which is healthy, and brutality, which is not, both contain violence, they tend to become identified." Battle scenes can be mitigated by using long-range camera shots, and there should be no shots "which dwell upon the more gruesome and bloody physical aspects of a combat." Some of these recommendations are quite commonsensical, while others are, I think, a little spurious. I would question, however, the idea that combat is "healthy"—let's see what the soldiers involved in it have to say about it.

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And now, here's the kind of item that I search these TV Guides for. On Sunday's Chevy Mystery Show (9:00 p.m. ET, NBC), the summer replacement for The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, the episode is "Enough Rope," starring Richard Carlson and Bert Freed, and written by William Link and Richard Levinson. The description: "Psychiatrist Roy Flemming has one too many women in his life. He has a wife, Claire, and a girl friend, Susan. The solution is a simple one: murder the wife and live happily ever after with the girl friend." Carlson is the adulterous doctor, while Freed, who often plays the heavy, portrays the detective investigating the crime. The play not only airs in color, it's also broadcast live.

Now, I don't know if this description sounds vaguely familiar to you, but it should. It's based on a play, "Prescription: Murder," written by Link and Levinson. In 1968, it was remade as a TV-movie, again on NBC. This time, Gene Barry took on the role of the suave Dr. Flemming, while the detective, named Lieutenant Columbo, was played by Peter Falk. Well, you can probably figure out the rest. Technically, the movie Prescription: Murder was not the pilot for Columbo; it wasn't until another Columbo movie, Ransom for a Dead Man, aired in 1971 that the network decided to turn the concept into a series later that year. But while there are differences between Freed's portrayal of Columbo, Falk's first time in the role, and the way the character is played in the subsequent series, there's no doubt that the good Lieutenant is displaying the primary characteristics that we all know and love.

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What else? I'll admit, sometimes it seems like a chore trying to find interesting programs to watch each night. I look at them and think that if I'm not interested, being the biggest nerd around, will anyone else be interested? And then I think maybe it will be better in the fall, when we're flooded with new series, specials, big movies, and the like. We'll see about that. But in the meantime, we'll turn over to NBC on Saturday at 9:30 p.m., where Herb Shriner hosts World Wide 60's look at the Boy Scouts of America's 50th Anniversary Jamboree from Colorado Springs. I have some thoughts about the Boy Scouts, what they were and what they are, and I'll not share them at the moment, but with the Blue Angels, the Army's K-9 corps, and trained falcons from the nearby Air Force Academy, I'm sure it's a colorful pageant—or would be, at least, if the show was in color.

A show that is in color is Music on Ice (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., NBC), the summer replacement for Sunday Showcase, hosted by Johnny Desmond; and if you remember those Ice Capades specials that I've highlighted here from time to time, this weekly series will look somewhat familiar. This week's non-skating guest is singer June Valli, and she's joined by skaters Jo Ann McGowan, Peter Firstbrook, and Willie Kali; and Steve Gibson's Redcaps vocal group. At the same time on CBS, Ed Sullivan's headliners are Gordon and Sheila MacRae, Harry James and his orchestra, comics Wayne and Shuster, and singer Jane Morgan. Your choice. 

You remember Arthur Godfrey, surely; I just wrote about him last week. When Godfrey was at his peak, one of the multiple shows he hosted was called Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts. Well, the idea, if not the host, returns on Monday, with Celebrity Talent Scouts (9:00 p.m., CBS), hosted by the genial comedian Sam Levenson. The premise is simple: each week, three celebrities present their "discoveries" for our entertainment. Tonight's celebrities are Ann Sheridan, Audrey Meadows, and Phil Silvers (who introduces something of a ringer, Mickey Freeman, who played Zimmerman on the Bilko series). Another summer entry is the return of the anarchic Spike Jones and his band (9:30 p.m., CBS). Spike swears he's off the slapstick schtick for this series, although Bill Dana is on hand as one of the regulars, playing his Jose Jiminez character.

Tuesday
's Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, starring Hugh O'Brian (8:30 p.m., ABC) is often credited with being the first adult Western, and rightly so. Something that's not generally recognized, though, is that it is one of the few series of the time that came to a natural end. The series did progress chronologically—perhaps it wasn't a serial in the way we think of them today, but it followed Earp from Ellsworth to Dodge City to Tombstone; in two months, it begins its sixth and final season, building up inexorably to the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral with a multi-part story that brings the series to a conclusion. If that's not a great way to go out, I don't know what is. Later on CBS, catch Ernie Kovacs in 'I Was a Bloodhound," a great private detective spoof originally seen on G.E. Theater last year, on Comedy Spot. (9:30 p.m.)

Bette Davis makes a rare television dramatic appearance on Wednesday's Wagon Train (7:30 p.m., NBC), as Elizabeth McQueeny, taking her group of girls out West to start a finishing school. Johnny Carson, not yet the Tonight host, is the guest on I've Got a Secret (9:30 p.m,. CBS), trying to stump the panel with his "secret," which is that he's answering their questions while hooked up to a lie detector. And Armstrong Circle Theater (10:00 p.m. CBS) tells the story of police narcotics squad members who go undercover in Greenwich Village to bust a drug ring on "Raid in Beatnik Village." Douglas Edwards, anchorman of the CBS evening news, narrates.

Thursday night sees the debut of Wranger (9:30 p.m., NBC), a new half-hour Western starring Jason Evers as a wandering cowpoke named Pitcairn. Tonight, he runs into a ranch owner named McQueen; alas, the perfect crossover promotion is missed, as it's not Steve McQueen from WantedDead or Alive, but a character named McQueen, a "gorgeous blonde" played by Susan Oliver, who is, indeed, both. The series is the first to be created by Gene Roddenberry, who had a long history with Westerns; it runs for only six episodes as a summer replacement for Tennessee Ernie Ford, but never made it beyond that. Perhaps the other McQueen would have helped.

On Friday, a Project 20 repeat from 1956 takes a look at "The Jazz Age," in a documentary narrated by the late Fred Allen (10:00 p.m., NBC). The special chronicles "America and Americans" from the end of World War I to the 1929 stock market crash. A lot happened during that decade-plus, from the Treaty of Versailles to Prohibition to the KKK to Lindbergh's flight. I've read that the documentary was edited down from 23 hours of film; Ken Burns probably would have used it all, and it would have taken two months to tell the same story.


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Finally, you may recall a 1962 feature on Tuesday Weld that appeared last month. There's a similar article about Tuesday this week, relevant in that she's currently appearing as one of the Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. I won't recount the details, as most of it is already covered in the 1962 article. However, I would be remiss if I didn't share this rather, uh, entertaining photo spread of Tuesday, in her words, "becoming a teen-ager!" as she dances along to an Elvis record. (Funny, I don't recall knowing any teens quite like that back in the day; I clearly went to the wrong high school.)


I don't think you even try to follow that, do you? TV  

August 1, 2025

Around the dial




Xt Comfort TV, David has a very nice piece on the things you can learn from classic TV. Not necessarily in the way that television might inform your worldview, but something simpler, like Schoolhouse Rock or science lessons. For me, it was the gift of classical music, courtesy of Saturday mornings with Bugs Bunny. No better gift!

John reaches back to 2017 to continue his series on the Brit sitcom They Came from Somewhere Else at Cult TV Blog. Very strange stuff, this, as a pastiche satire on horror films, but if you're enough of a horror fan that you don't mind seeing it spoofed, this is for you.

It's going to be somber, when 2025 comes to a close, to see the year's remembrance role. At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence adds to the list with tributes to Malcolm-Jamal Warner and Ozzy Ozbourne, the latter being perhaps the most unlikely reality TV star in history. RIP to both.

Adding to that, the satirist Tom Lehrer died this week at 97; The Broadcast Archives takes a look at the songs he wrote for the American version of That Was the Week That Was, including "Pollution," "A Song for World War III" ("So long, Mom/I’m off to drop the bomb") and "Wernher von Braun."

At A View from the Junkyard, it's Mike's continuing review of the Doctor Who novelizations that Target books put out during the show's heyday. Up now is Malcolm Hulke's Doctor Who and the Dinosaur Invasion, based on his Invasion of the Dinosaurs adventure, starring Jon Pertwee's Third Doctor. TV