So what's new this week? Well, there's a fourth national network, for one thing. Richard K. Doan reports that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting is creating a hookup for 150 noncommercial stations to facilitate receiving a unified broadcast schedule. In the past, National Educational Television (NET, the predecessor to PBS) had shipped many of these programs from station to station on film or tape. It is hoped that this will make it easier to promote public television on a national basis. A recent study indicates that ratings for public broadcasting shows are down by an "alarming" amount over the past three years, with the exception of cities such as Boston and San Francisco, where such programming is heavily promoted. Another survey shows that the most watched series on public television may be David Susskind's syndicated talk show Open End, which in fact is not a CPB program at all, but is merely a program picked up by some public broadcasting stations. (Many stations choose to classify it as "educational," which in fact it probably is, when compared to what airs on PBS nowadays.)
In fact, Doan says, the whole situation begs the question—several, in fact:
- If public television, which is supposed to act as an alternative to commercial broadcasting, has so few viewers, does the nation really need to invest in this? Does the public want such an alternative?
- On the other hand, has public television lacked the funds to do the kind of "quality" programming that viewers want?
- OR, does the quality already exist, but goes unseen because of the lack of advertising and promotion?
- Otherwise, why has the government earmarked $5 million for programs that the public apparently doesn't want?
During the 60s, the Ed Sullivan Show and The Hollywood Palace were the premier variety shows on television. Whenever they appear in TV Guide together, we'll match them up and see who has the best lineup..Sullivan: Tentatively scheduled guests: Johnny Mathis; singers Diana Ross and the Supremes, and Shani Wallis; composér-conductor Henry Mancini; comedians Rodney Dangerfield, and Jack Burns and Avery Schreiber; and the Rolan Brothers, novelty act. (The episode guide notes that the Pter Gennaro dancers also appeared, and that the audience bows came from Jack Lord and Jean Claude Killy.)
Palace: Palace begins its sixth year as Bing Crosby and Bob Hope receive the first annual show business Hall of Fame Awards. Bing is also the host; his guests are Tiny Tim, Bobbie Gentry, Judy "Sock It to Me!" Carne of Laugh-In, comic Stu Gilliam, the acrobatic Dovyeko troupe of the Moscow State Circus and columnist Earl Wilson, who presents the awards.
It's always hard to go against Bing Crosby, and doubly so when he's joined by his old partner, Bob Hope, for the first (and last?) Show Business Hall of Fame Awards. (You can see a clip of that here.) However, let's be honest: Diana Ross and the Supremes, Johnny Mathis, Henry Mancini, and Rodney Dangerfield. You're just not going to beat a lineup like that. My decision: Sullivan kicks off the new year right.
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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. One of the show's problems lies in the viewer having to figure out which side he was supposed to be on as he watched. "Most of the episodes so far have been, from opening tease to final wheeze, so crammed full of false values and phony status standards that, as movies, they move all right, but as far as moving you goes, our guess is that it will be primarily to turn them off." And that's too bad, because no show on television can match the star wattage of the guest lineup on The Name of the Game, even though most of them get shot ("from their good side, of course") before they can make much of an impact. "Even so, and hard as it is to believe, they were all overwhelmed by a sea of muddy melodrama and messy, unmotivated characterization."
As far as the stars (i.e. the good guys), we haven't seen much of Franciosa so far ("apparently he not only alternates but hibernates, too"), but Barry and Stack have two expressions between them. "Barry is better than Stack, but that is still a long way from a compliment." And Susan Saint James, the only character to appear with all three leads, is caught between a mod Mata Hari and an "immod impression of Paula Prentiss." So what's left except to leave the magazine, marry Rock Hudson, and start solving murders? Maybe they should have hired her to run the crime magazine.
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Saturday's highlights belong firmly in the late-night hours, with a trio of classics to satisfy any movie lover's tastes, beginning with The High and the Mighty (11:15 p.m. PT, KXTV in Sacramento), the original airliner-in-jeopardy movie, starring John Wayne, Robert Stack, Claire Trevor, and Laraine Day, and capped by a memorable score from Dimitri Tiomkin. At 11:30 p.m., it's one of the great political melodramas of all time, All the King's Men (KGO in San Francisco), Robert Penn Warren's gothic horror show that won Oscars for Broderick Crawford and Mercedes McCambridge, as well as taking Best Picture. And early Sunday morning, it's the original Cat People (1:50 a.m., KPIX in San Francisco), Jacques Tournier's classic starring Simone Simon and Kent Smith.
On an otherwise undistinguished Monday, we'll recall a little-remembered soap opera named Hidden Faces, a "daytime drama" now in its second week (noon, NBC) that could easily be mistaken for a game show based on the title. ("Players try to uncover a hidden celebrity's visage by solving clues!" See how easy it would be?) Debuting on December 30, 1968, it runs until June 27, 1969, so catch it while—wait, I used that one already, didn't I?
We've got dueling newsmagazines on Tuesday, beginning with the premiere of First Tuesday (9:00 p.m.), one of NBC's many efforts over the years, hosted by Sander Vanocur. The show's title says it all: it airs on the first Tuesday of each month. Tonight's episode includes an interview with strongman Charles Atlas, who will see to it that no beach bully kicks sand in your face. Going up against the second hour of that two-hour program is the granddaddy of fthem all, 60 Minutes (10:00 p.m., CBS), which at this point is still shown on a twice-monthly basis. This week's edition includes a behind-the-scenes look at television comedy, and an interview with vice-president elect Spiro Agnew.
Back to the movies on Wednesday, with the television premiere of Otto Preminger's suspense thriller Bunny Lake Is Missing (9:00 p.m., ABC), starring Carol Lynley, Keir Dullea, Lauirence Olivier, and Noel Coward. Judith Crist describes it as "long on gimmicks and short on logic," but this story of a missing child—who may or may not even exist—provides plenty of mystery. Perhaps more straightforward is this week's Green Acres (9:30 p.m., CBS), which details Oliver's headaches when he tries to introduce chicken-raising to the farm. If you think this will go well, you don't know Green Acres.
Among Friday's highlights is the memorable Star Trek episode "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield" (10:00 p.m., NBC), an allegory about racial strife, starring Frank Gorshin and Lou Antonio as the half-white, half-black combatants. Like many Trek episodes, it's a bit heavy-handed in making its point, but it remains one of the best-remembered stories of the series, and there's nothing wrong with the moral of the story. Better, perhaps, is an episode of Judd for the Defense (10:00 p.m., ABC), dealing with the mental capacity of a young woman on trial for murder. She's already pleaded guilty, and may well be: the question is, considering her diminished capacity, should she face life in prison or have a chance at being cured?
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Lord has long referred to his admiration for his idol, Gary Cooper. However, while he boasts a lifestyle far removed from Cooper's (including "a 30-foot long, 16,000-pound, all-steel mobile dressing room, decorated by his wife and complete with |bedroom, kitchen, bath, make-up area, stereo, two air-conditioners and a self-contained water purifier"), Raddatz supposes that Cooper may not have had to work as hard, either. The Five-O crew often puts in 18-hour days, six days a week, utilizing as many as five different locations daily. The permanent sets, including McGarrett's and the governor's offices, are not soundproof, and often shooting is interrupted by the sound of rain on metal roofs, the rumble of passing trucks and planes flying overhead, and actual shooting from a nearby rifle range. Ah, well, nobody ever said stardom was easy.
Lord was not the first choice for the role of Five-O head McGarrett; as producer Leonard Freeman recounts, "You always start with Gregory Peck. Who knows? You might call him up and he’d feel like doing a television series that day." Neither, however, was Lord at the bottom of the pile. He and Freeman had worked together on an unsold pilot, and Freeman says of Lord that "He’s terrific. I'm a perfectionist, and so is he. Having a star like Jack is like having money in the bank. He’s always on time, no bags under his eyes, and he always knows his lines." He also projects the gravitas necessary to make viewers buy in; "When he flashes his badge, people believe it."
For Lord, who takes both himself and his work seriously, it's been a long haul to the top. He is a painter (the Metropolitan Museum of Art owns five of his works done when he was 18 years old) and can recite poetry at the drop of a hat (his father would give the five children a penny for every line of poetry they memorized). He's also sensitive and vulnerable, and still resents an article from years ago (which I think was in TV Guide, actually) that suggested he visualized himself as a second Cooper. He and Cooper had been friends until the latter's death, but Lord denies he ever had "illusions of filling his idol’s boots." And Lord has no need of such lofty dreams today, given the success of Hawaii Five-O (which will run until 1980, the last series of the 1960s to go off the air), part ownership of the series, and financial security (known as a shrewd businessman, he's not even represented by an agent). Not to mention an apartment at Waikiki.
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One of our other stories this week looks at the so-called "waist-up" fashion displayed by many female television personalities. The phrase refers to the fact that what these women wear below the waist is generally hidden from viewers, and while this is often true for men as well as women, the article is written by Cindy Adams, which explains why the accent is on the distaff side. Barbara Walters, for example, is often clad in "stunningly attired top half winks and blinks with the regulation three-piece set—earrings, pin and one refined-looking bracelet" while, below the desk, she's wearing sneakers and slacks. Walters remarks that "I live in fear that one of these days the camera will catch me standing up or walking away."
I recall Peter Jennings talking about this kind of thing many years ago. Long considered one of the best-dressed men on television, he explained that he often wore inexpensive suits bought off the rack, and plain shirts. However, when combined with a pocket hanky and cufflinks, it made all the difference. The moral, according to Jennings: use that hanky, and you've got it made. Hey, works for me.
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Speaking of the news, as we can see this week, there's more than one way to look at it:
At least Fox News's advertisements weren't quite this blatant.
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