What's on TV? Saturday, June 28, 1969

I've been spending some video time lately looking at the late 1960s, at what a divisive and changed time it is. That's one reason why I'm struck looking at the listings for this Saturday morning, looking at how many westerns there are. The science fiction and superhero cartoons make sense—that is, after all, the future. But westerns? I understand the lure of the Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers and Hopalong Cassidy; I had my share of cowboy hats and six-shooters among my childhood toys. I'm just a bit surprised that the wild west is still seen as fodder for kids; it's so traditional, so conventional, so unlike everything that the end of the '60s is supposed to be about. Oh well; if that's what's on TV in Philadelphia, that's the way it must be!

This week in TV Guide: June 28, 1969

The big event this week is the investiture of Prince Charles as Prince of Wales, broadcast live and in color via satellite from Caernarvon Castle in Wales on July 1, 1969. I wonder, even given that his mother, Queen Elizabeth II, was only 25 when she ascended to the throne, whether anyone watching that event that morning could possibly have imagined he would remain Price of Wales for so long? 

It's a glittering event, second only to that of the Coronation (and there hadn't been one of those since 1953), and there's been no little amount of controversy about it. Why, say some Welch, should their nation celebrate an event that meant "the end of its life as an independent country?" At a time when there's a need for improved housing, schools, roads and electric power, the Crown is spending $500,000 on a pageant that isn't even all that traditional, but a combination of several older rituals.

Charles, just 20 years old and having concluded his second year at Cambridge, was candid in a rare personal interview prior to the ceremony. Of course there's a certain amount of apprehension, he says; "I don't blame people demonstrating. They've never seen me before; they don't know what I'm like. I have hardly been to Wales, and you can't really expect people to be overzealous about having a so-called English Prince to come amongst them."

For those able to watch the festivities at home, coverage begins on NBC with Today at 7:00 a.m. ET, Ray Scherer and Barbara Walters reporting. CBS's broadcast starts at 8:00 a.m., with Harry Reasoner, Winston Burdett and Morley Safer, while ABC enters the scene at 9:30 a.m., with Frank Reynolds and George Watson. NBC and CBS remain on the air until 11:30 a.m.; ABC signs off at 11:00. (CBS also airs a 30-minute review at 10:30 p.m. for us working stiffs.) The ceremonies include a procession to the castle by Welch society, followed by the arrival of the Prince, then the Queen and members of the Royal Family, and concluding with the investiture itself, including an address by Prince Charles to the people of Wales, in Welch.

Charles was Prince of Wales for over half a century, the longest-serving Prince of Wales in British history. The death of his mother was the end of an era, in more than one way. You may have your own opinions on King Charles; I have mine, for what they're worth, which isn't much, but then I don't think a great deal of thought ought to be wasted on him. Whereas Brittania once ruled the waves, King Charles exists today, to the extent that he matters at all, as an oddity, in more ways than one.

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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. 

The last Cleveland Amory column of the season is something like the last day of school: casual, loose, enjoyable. You can imagine him sitting in his office with the windows open, a light breeze tossing the curtains gently, one of his cats curling at his feet as he pens his final column. The sense of lightheartedness extends to this week's subject matter—a simple Q&A with readers. It is, as usual, a delight.

Q: Why do you use the "we" style? Who is we? You and who else? Do you think you're royal?

A: We is just me. However, to me, we is more amusing than I is. We would not have laughed, for example, if Queen Victoria had said, "I am not amused."*

*We might have, though, if she had said, "We is not amused."

Q: I think you are mellowing. Are you?

A: Nonsense. We weigh just what we weighed in college. It's just that with us writing each week, television could hardly fail to get better.

There are some questions that provoke more insightful answers, though. For instance, the one that asks Cleve how many episodes of a series he watches before he reviews it. "At least three," he says. "Three strikes, we figure, and you're out." Someone asked what shows he watches for his own personal pleasure. "Ironside and Mission: Impossible," he replies. Ironside because he likes the chemistry between the lead characters; "The only time this show leaves us cold is when they have a guest star take over. Then it's just like any other show." And in the case of M:I, "it's a real tour de force—without, praise be, too much force."

Then someone asks him which shows he regretted seeing go off the air, and the answers aren't a surprise for anyone who's followed Amory over the years. He liked The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, which he felt fell victim to an interdepartmental fight between CBS news and CBS entertainment. Yes, the Brothers were partisan and one-sided in their material, but the obvious answer is not to take them off, but "to put on another show which makes funny comments on the other side." He also liked That's Life, the musical comedy show starring Robert Morse and E.J. Peaker. It was, he thought, "a sparkling, innovative, really different musical-comedy effort."

And then there's the question about whether or not people take his criticisms seriously. Yes, he says; Monty Hall cornered him at a hockey game and went through the entire review, "line by line. He was against it." The best one, however, was a 12-year-old boy who called him at home late one night to lay into him. "Your review of Dark Shadows was the most close-minded review I have ever read. Letter will follow." It did, too, he says, and there he has me beat. I've gotten a few emails over the years, some overnight, but I've yet to have someone call me to complain. And don't get any ideas.

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The Fourth of July is right around the corner (more about that later), which means it's time for—college football? That's right: it's the ninth annual Coaches All-America Game, telecast Saturday night from Atlanta (8:30 p.m., ABC). It's kind of hard to explain this college all-star football game to anyone who wasn't alive to see it—it was played from 1961 to 1976—and even then, it's well, odd. Officially, it's the last game of the college football season, staged by the American Football Coaches Association, the group that names the college All-America teams each year, and the purpose of the game was to raise money for AFCA scholarships. It started out in Buffalo before shuffling to Atlanta, and this is the last year in the Peachtree City before it relocates to Lubbock, Texas, where the game really begins to take off; over the seven years it was played in Lubbock, it averaged over 40,000 per game in attendance. I'm not entirely sure why the game was played in the summer; the NFL training camps haven't opened yet, and this is before the days of year-round workouts, so perhaps this was a chance for players to arrive at camp in better shape than the veterans; it might also have been an opportunity for undrafted free agents to display their wares for scouts. Not surprisingly, despite the game's popularity, it was reluctantly ended after the 1976 game; much like the reasons for ending the College All-Star Game (in which the all-stars took on the NFL champions), the injury potential negated any upside for college seniors and NFL teams. I, for one, always enjoyed this dose of summertime football—but then, as people have reminded me, I'm kind of different.

Earlier in the day, ABC's Wide World of Sports presents a heavyweight championship bout between challenger Jerry Quarry and champion Joe Frazier. (5:00 p.m., taped on June 23.) If you're wondering why it's just a heavyweight championship rather than the heavyweight championship, it's because we're once again in an era of multiple champions. Following the decision to strip Muhammad Ali of the title for refusing military induction, the World Boxing Association conducted a tournament to name a new champion, which was won by Jimmy Ellis. Frazier declined to take part in the tournament, instead fighting Buster Mathis in the inaugural event at the new Madison Square Garden, with the winner to be recognized by the New York State Athletic Commission as its heavyweight champ. (Not insignificant in an era when so many title fights were staged at the Garden.) Frazier won that fight, and made four more successful defenses of the title (including a seventh-round TKO of Quarry in this fight) before unifying the title with a defeat of Ellis in February, 1970. Got all that?

There's less complicated sports on this week as well; the Tigers take on the Orioles in the NBC Game of the Week (Saturday, 2:15 p.m.), and the Phillies play the brand new Montreal Expos, as well as the Pittsburgh Pirates, during the week. There's also Roller Derby at 3:30 p.m. Saturday on WPHL, for those of you interested in honest competition.

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NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies presents a repeat of Ray Bradbury's celebrated novel Fahrenheit 451 (9:00 p.m.), with ► Oskar Werner as the fireman charged with burning books, and Julie Christie in the dual role of Werner's wife and a teacher who instills in him the quest for knowledge. Judith Crist doesn't like it; she sees it as "pretentious, loaded with heavy-handed ironies that stress its simple-mindedness." I like it myself, although it doesn't quite measure up to the book, but then you have to go a long way to match a masterpiece. Crist has kinder words for Mickey One (Sunday, 9:00 p.m., ABC), the avant-garde cult classic by Arthur Penn, with Warren Beatty, Hurd Hatfield, Alexandra Steward, Teddy Hart and Franchot Tone. Beatty is "brilliant" and the supporting cast "superb," in this "parable of modern man on the run from the nameless fears and faceless terrors of his time." Does anyone out there notice how much that description sounds like our times? Honey West (4:30 p.m., WIBF) offers a storyline that sounds like it belongs more on The Avengers: "A robot breaks into Honey's office, knocks her unconscious and murders a toy manufacturer." The kind of thing that happens to private detectives all the time, right? And you might want to check out Walter Cronkite's 21st Century episode "Stranger Than Science Fiction" (CBS, 6:00 p.m.), which (in light of next month's moon launch) looks at how today's realities compare to "the dreams of yesterday's science fiction."

Also on Sunday, Hee Haw (9:00 p.m, CBS) has an all-star guest cast of Faron Young, George Jones and Tammy Wynette; according to Richard K. Doan, the surprise hit is giving CBS a real headache. They've been trying for years to find a show to put up against NBC's longtime hit Bonanza; for all the troubles the Smothers Brothers were, at least they gave the Western a run for its money. "Now, to CBS's consternation—and all but disbelief", the "hayseed version of Laugh-In" smoked Bonanza in the ratings in its June 15 debut. "CBS's unwanted dilemma: If Hee Haw is a hit, how do you throw it off come September?" You can already see the rural purge coming, can't you?

Monday's best bet is the Orson Welles thriller The Lady from Shanghai, co-starring then-wife Rita Hayworth (8:00 p.m., WIBF). Check this one out sometime if you can. Tuesday's Red Skelton rerun (8:30 p.m,. CBS) features a rare TV appearance by the late Boris Karloff (who died in February; the episode originally ran in September 1968), co-starring Vincent Price in what must have been quite a show. Here's a look at the two of them with Red.

Jock Mahoney, who played Tarzan in the movies, gets to do the TV version on Wednesday (7:30 p.m., NBC). He doesn't get to play the vine-swinger, though; that's still Ron Ely. And in case you missed Orson Welles last night, you get another opportunity tonight; this time, it's his noirish rendition of Macbeth (9:00 p.m., WPHL), with co-stars Jeanette Nolan, Roddy McDowall and Dan O'Herlihy. On Thursday, Vincent Price is back as well, this time on NBC; he's the ringleader of a band of child thieves on Daniel Boone (7:30 p.m.). A rerun of The Prisoner (8:00 p.m., CBS) tells a prescient story about the dangers of technology; The Village has introduced "a crash course that would endow villagers with a university degree in three minutes. But at what cost to the will of an individual's mind?" If you've read Darkness in Primetime, you'll recall that I devoted a chapter to this episode, "The General." And a terrific guest lineup highlights Friday's The Name of the Game (8:30 p.m., NBC), involving an investigation into where Gene Barry got the money on which he built his publishing empire; Barry Sullivan, Jack Kelly, Fritz Weaver, Gia Scala, Ray Danton and Ed Asner make up the cast.

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At various times throughout the history of this feature, we've seen the Fourth of July celebrated on television with parades, baseball games, and variety specials. It remains, however, a holiday not particularly suited to television specials. It is a day when people gather in groups—well, perhaps not this year, but normally—to go to parades, to picnic or have cookouts in their backyards, to go to fireworks shows at night or shoot them off for the kids in their neighborhood, or simply to enjoy the summer breeze. It's no real surprise, therefore, to see the day go pretty much unnoticed in this issue. And that's just fine with me. Even though a program with an Independence Day feel would be welcome—a concert, perhaps, or movie about the Revolution—I have no problem with people tuning things out while they celebrate with friends, or in a crowd. Human interaction is, after all, something of a reminder that the Revolution was fought for human freedoms. Imperfect freedoms, maybe, but freedoms nonetheless. That we celebrate the day with other humans seems to be kind of appropriate, don't you think?

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MST3K alert: Tormented (1961) Songstress Vi Brown locats her ex-fiance Tom Stewart in an abandoned lighthouse, and tells him that she won't let him marry wealthy Meg Hubbard. Richard Carlson, Juli Redding. (Monday, 9:35 a.m., WFIL in Philadelphia) Now, this is a perfectly adequate description of the movie: if you're talking about the first five minutes. It's really about a man haunted by the ghost of his dead ex-fiance, who vowed she'd never let him marry anyone but her. Does that make you any more likely to watch? Probably not, but at least now you know what it's all about. Enjoy the bots instead, or Bridget and Mary Jo (pictured) if you prefer.  TV

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Around the dial

Goodness, I've been so busy with my fiction this week that it's nice to return to television for a break! So let's get right to it!

The Avengers is part of our regular Friday night schedule, and right now we're winding down the Tara King years. What comes next? The New Avengers, of course! And at Comfort TV, David looks at Imprint's Blu-ray edition, and gives it flying colors.

At Cult TV Blog, John braves the suffocating British heatwave to bring us something completely different: The Great Birdseye Peas Relaunch of Monty Python in 1971. Unsure of what I'm talking about? Then you'd better head over there and check it out!

"Trouble Brewing" is this week's A-Team adventure, and at The View from the Junkyard, Roger looks at a typical tale of small-business vs. corrupt corporation shenanigans, which I can only too well understand as a small businesman myself. 

At A Shoud of Thoughts, Terence pays tribute to the career of the great comic character actor Ronnie Schell, who died earlier this month, and was a fixture of the television shows of my youth, particularly (but not limited to) Gomer Pyle. R.I.P.

At a used bookstore the other night, I noticed a copy of Herbert Philbrick's book I Led 3 Lives, the story of a man who worked undercover posing as a Communist agent while in the employ of the FBI. Martin Grams looks back at the TV series that the book spawned. TV

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What's on TV? Wednesday, June 24, 1970

ome very interesting things on the schedule for today. For instance, Merv Griffin's lineup is a classic of the time: Phil Silvers, Shecky Greene, Red Buttons and Charo. That had to be out of control before it even started. And then there's poet James Dickey appearing on Bob Cromie's Book Beat, discussing his first novel. You might have heard of it—Deliverance. And even though I've seen it many times in these old issues, I'm always somewhat taken aback when Mister Rogers' name appears as one word: Misterogers. Makes him sound sort of like a superhero, doesn't it? Well, there's plenty more for you to see down there; this week's listings are from Philadelphia.

This week in TV Guide: June 20, 1970

We're continually assaulted, if that's the right word, with controversy over violence on television. In 1968, on the heels of the King and Kennedy assassinations and the general level of discontent in the country, there had been a wave of revulsion over the perception that television programs were saturated with violence. The result, as we looked at here, was a sudden self-censoring of violent content, at least temporarily, along with a promise to be more responsible in the future. We're now just over two years since that spasmodic response, and the bill for nonviolent television is coming due.

As Joseph Finnigan reports, the stakes are high for television producers, who face losing "thousands of dollars in some cases because a show with too much violence—or even a show which somebody suspects has too much violence—simply doesn't get on the air." And it doesn't matter how big the stars, or how popular the shows. An unaired episode of Bonanza illustrates how ridiculous, in my opinion, it has gotten: the episode has remained in limbo for almost a year, at a cost of $200,000, because of a storyline involving star Michael Landon being attacked (and a prison guard killed) by "vicious prison dogs." "The action took place off-camera," Finnigan points out. "Not a single fang was bared. Still, it all proved too much for the network censors, who apparently never saw a Rin Tin Tin movie." The show's producer, Dick Collins, says the episode was nixed by Standards & Practices "because the dogs worried and bothered them."

To say the least, the crackdown has put a crimp in storytelling. Many producers look upon the restrictions as a form of "arbitrary censorship [that] is not only dishonest but debilitating to the medium." This isn't the first time we've read about such frustration, but even though the specific issues may have changed, the result is the same. An anonymous spokesman for Universal describes the effect: "The Virginian was hurt the past season by a lack of violence which was part of the life of those times. The problems that existed then were emotional, violent problems. In that period the problem was not how well you did your job, or what your boss thought of you, the problem was keeping alive. Today you have other things which support drama—international problems, dope, pollution." But, says Finnigan, "they won't help The Virginian tell his story."

One way around this is to appeal to the conscience of the character involved in committing the violent act. "Ray Burr's Ironside series had a classic example in an episode depicting a policewoman shooting a suspect and feeling remorse over her act." If you don't enjoy the violence, Finnigan observes, this seems to make it OK. Another tactic, especially useful with shoot-outs, is "to keep the camera rolling" on a scene until the shooting victim moves. "Later, if the censor objects to the dead body," the scene can be inserted in the cutting room to demonstrate he isn't dead after all. Writers can ramp up the complexity of the episode, using mystery and detective work to keep the drama going in lieu of a violent scene; and a censor for one of the networks talks of reading a script over and wondering, "Is there any other way to show that Joe Blow is a bad guy and John Blow is a good guy? Is there a nonviolent way to do it?" They even look at the music, to see if it "heightens the violent attitude of the story."

The networks have a good reason for this seemingly childish behavior, of course, and the reason is called Congress. "They're looking for anything that might make waves," leading into one of those "sex and violence" probes that senators like, when someone like John Pastore asks "What are you doing about all that violence?" The next time that happens, they just pull out the scoresheet saying how many murders they've eliminated, how many dog attacks they've prevented, how many sour notes they've nixed. A CBS spokesman says "the incidence of violence is reduced 50 per cent compared with two years ago." I wonder how long that attitude lasts.

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Cleveland Amory's off this week, probably readying his quill for a go at the new summer shows coming our way, but all is not lost, as we still have Judith Crist to look at the week in movies. She starts with Tobruk (Saturday, 9:00 p.m., NBC), a World War II story set in North Africa. Rock Hudson is the star, but Crist's praise is for George Peppard, "at his best" as the leader of German Jews fighting with the Allies; his performance is the movie's "prime distinction." The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (Friday, 9:00 p.m., CBS) is Tennessee Williams' "Soap-operatic survey of decadence," enlivened only by the luminous performance of Vivien Leigh, who provides "a credibility that neither Warren Beatty, as a foppish gigolo, nor Lotte Lenya, as a vile procuress, do much to sustain."

Patrick McGoohan, "another invariably good performer, gives a certain amount of class to Koroshi" (Monday, 8:30 p.m., ABC), a movie made up of the two color episodes of McGoohan's pre-Prisoner series Secret Agent, with McGoohan as the indefatigable John Drake. And in Libel (Thursday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), Dirk Bogarde is "at his invariably excellent" in a courtroom drama in which he plays three separate characters; it's helped "splendidly" by Robert Morley and Wilfrid Hyde-White as the two barristers. Unfortunately, there's nothing good about Rock-a-Bye Baby (Sunday, 9:00 p.m., ABC); "Not even his fans," says Crist of Jerry Lewis's minions "could flip for the tired slapstick buffoonery of this one. Last, and quite possibly least, is Did You Hear the One About the Traveling Saleslady? (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m., NBC). The verdict: "You don't have to hear it or even see it. You can smell it."

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Speaking of the summer: lots of reruns (and a farewell or two), combined with some of the new summer shows. Ray Stevens takes over for Andy Williams (Saturday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), and Andy's on-hand to hand over the keys. Cass Elliot and Lulu are regulars, and Tom Smothers, Jonathan Winters, Jo Anne Worley and Bill Dana are around for brief cameos. Don't worry; Andy's back this fall. G-E College Bowl (Sunday, 1:30 p.m., KYW) isn't, though: the series finale actually aired on the network last week, but it's just making it to Philadelphia today. In the final match, Old Dominion defeats last week's champion, Albright College, 300-100. Later on Sunday, an Ed Sullivan rerun (CBS, 8:00 p.m.) features impressionist David Frye; country music's Chet Atkins, Floyd Cramer, Bobby Goldsboro and Boots Randolph; Connie Stevens; comics George Carlin and Richard Pryor; Sam and Sammy, balancing act; and a production number from "Promises, Promises." That's followed by Glen Campbell at 9:00 p.m., who welcomes Tony Randall, Lulu (fresh from Ray Stevens' show), and Jerry Reed.

Monday's highlight is one of NBC's occasional broadcasts of Monday Night Baseball (8:00 p.m.), with the Baltimore Orioles in Boston to take on the Red Sox. And for those Jerry Lewis fans out there (among which I count myself), don't despair over that Judith Crist review; Jerry's hosting The Tonight Show all week ► (11:30 p.m., NBC). Tuesday's Red Skelton rerun is the CBS farewell for the redhead, as he goes to NBC for a final season in the fall; his guests tonight are Duke Ellington and his orchestra, and comedienne Pat Carroll. At 10:00 p.m., Anne Baxter stars on Marcus Welby, M.D. (ABC), while a CBS News Special looks at how businesses recruit on college campuses, where they often get hostile receptions from students accusing them of social irresponsibility. Country variety show reruns dominate Wednesday, with Hee Haw (7:30 p.m., CBS) featuring Charley Pride, Loretta Lynn and Jerry Lee Lewis, while Johnny Cash (9:00 p.m., ABC) counters with Merle Haggard, Brenda Lee, and—the very busy Charley Pride. And let's not forget Engelbert Humperdinck (10:00 p.m., ABC), with Lena Horne, Joel Grey, Tricia Noble, and "the rocking Vanity Fare."

Happy Days—no, not the one with Richie and The Fonz—premieres Thursday (8:00 p.m., CBS). The summer series is out to recall "the music and comedy of the '30s and '40s" with regulars including Louis Nye, Bob & Ray and Jack Burns; it opens big tonight, with guests Buddy Rich, Helen O'Connell, Bob Eberle, and Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. For more conventional fare, Tom Jones (9:00 p.m, ABC) welcomes Leslie Uggams, Joe Cocker and the Grease Band, and Guy Marks, while Dean Martin (10:00 p.m., NBC) has Phil Harris, Lou Rawls, Arte Johnson and Nancy Kwan. And we'll round out the week on Friday starting with The Name of the Game's venture into spy territory; reporter Darren McGavin investigate a report that a missile scientist thought to have defected to Cuba (James Whitmore) is actually in hiding to protect his life. A superior guest cast includes Strother Martin, Dane Clark and Jan Sterling. (8:30 p.m., NBC) Hogan's Heroes (8:30 p.m, CBS) gets its Bilko moment in a great episode involving a chimp, and classic TV fans will know what I mean.

Finally, since we're working with the Philadelphia edition this week, we'll take a moment with this ad for "The Big News" on WCAU, with legendary anchorman John Facenda, better known to those of us outside the area as the legendary voice of NFL Films. (It's always interesting to see the day jobs of our heroes.) Whether you recall the "frozen tundra of Lambeau Field" and "the Autumn Wind," or remember him simply as The Voice, there's been nobody like him on NFL Films since; I can only imagine how authoritative he must have been on the news. In fact, here's a great sound clip of him from 1958, and it's about what you'd expect.

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My interest in golf has waxed and waned over the years (up in the days of Arnie and Jack and anyone not named Woods; down in the days of the aforementioned Woods), but it first starts here, with ABC's telecast of the final two rounds of the U.S. Open (6:00 p.m. Saturday, 5:00 p.m. Sunday), live from Hazeltine National Golf Club in the Minneapolis suburb of Chaska, Minnesota. In these simpler days, it was rare when a sports event being played in the Twin Cities was available on television; home football games were always blacked out and the baseball and hockey teams televised about three home games per season, so it was a big deal when we could sit at home and watch something being played, as it were, in the neighborhood.

There had been major golf tournaments in the Twin Cities before; the great Bobby Jones won the 1930 U.S. Open here, and there used to be a regular PGA tournament in St. Paul, but this was probably the first major played here in the television era. And what a tournament it was, starting with the golf course. Through some influential lobbying, Hazeltine was awarded the Open even though it had only been built eight years before, and might not have been ready for the big time. It was constructed pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and the winds whipped around the former farm land, driving the players crazy. The best score after Thursday's opening round was a mere 71, one under par, and some players thought a final total of 300 (+12) would be good enough to win. In particular, one player emerged as the most vocal critic of the course: Dave Hill. Hill was fined $150 for saying the course lacked "about 80 acres of corn and four cows," and that he'd love to "plow it up." In our gentle Minnesota fashion, the galleries responded (in an era when golfers weren't heckled) by mooing at Hill all through the rest of the tournament.

◄ Tony Jacklin, the British Open champion who'd won us over early by saying that, as an Englishmen used to challenging conditions, he didn't have any problem at all with the course, was the only player under par after the first round. By Sunday's final round, he has a five-shot lead, and as he comes to the final hole, with the crowd cheering him on, he leads by six, then sinks a 30-foot birdie putt to finish at seven under par, the only player to break par for the tournament. Hill finishes in second place at even par, the closest he'll ever come to winning a major. Watching it all unfold on TV, I'm hooked.

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Finally, The Editors—Merrill Panitt, in other words—have an interesting idea. I'm using the plural, by the way, since the weekly editorial is called "As We See It," so I'm assuming Merrill is using the royal "we" here, though if anyone's entitled to speak on behalf of the staff of TV Guide, it's Merrill Panitt. Either that, or he's channeling Cleveland Amory. At any rate, they, or he, or whichever pronoun we want to use, are essentially advocating the creation of "Nick at Nite" about 25 years before the fact.

This all came about because of CBS's decision to air reruns of He & She, the critically-acclaimed but ratings-deficient sitcom from 1967 starring Richard Benjamin, Paula Prentiss and Jack Cassidy. on Friday nights over the summer. It's long been thought that He & She might have been just a little ahead of its time, and with this move CBS now signals its decision to join NBC and ABC in programming for the "right" demographic audience, in this case, young marrieds. Considering this predates the network's infamous rural purge by about a year, this seems about right. And if the move is successful, they wonder, what other series might be resurrected?

One such series is It's a Man's World, "a delightful story of some nonconformists living on a houseboat" starring Glenn Corbett, Michael Burns, Ted Bessell and Randy Boone. (A number of episodes exist on YouTube, so if you're interested, you can start with Episode One, here.) There's also George C. Scott's gritty East Side/West Side, which anticipated ghetto problems before they were a big deal; Roger Miller's 1966 TV series ("overproduced as well as before its time"); Bob & Ray's 1950s series ("flopped—some felt—because it was premature"); and My World and Welcome to It, which we might catch up to someday.

Two things you might have noticed about these shows: they were all, to one extent or another, "ahead of their time"; and many of them are available on YouTube, which says a lot about their enduring popularity, even if it's just a cult audience. I wonder if any other classic programs might have been saved if this idea had come to fruition sooner? The editorial concludes by noting that "Some of the best new ideas in programming may be old ideas whose time has come," to which I'd add only that other ideas, and programs, are timeless—if only we take the time to find them, and appreciate them. TV

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Around the dial

Let's begin today's roundup at Comfort TV, where David looks back at what he calls "specialty acts," the performers that were a fixture of variety shows and other specials: Foster Brooks, Shields & Yarnell, Super Dave, and more. Good times, those.

At Cult TV Blog, John brings down the curtain on The Omega Factor with the show's final episode: a resolution of the plot lines, the biggest questions, and some loose ends that never were wrapped up. John also assesses the series as a whole. As I've said, now on my watch list.

At last year's Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention, I had the pleasure of meeting the adorable Hayley Mills, who, with her sister Juliet, were the highlights of the show for us. I mention this only as an excuse to visit Classic Film & TV Cafe, where Rick reviews one of her early adult roles in The Family Way.

It's a pleasure when Terence gets to look back at the career of a celebrity who hasn't just passed on, and this week at A Shroud of Thoughts, he remembers Karen Valentine, who came to prominence on Room 222 and was a fixture on television shows throughout the years. America's sweetheart? Well, certainly a familiar face.

"Beverly Hills Assault" may sound like an average episode of one of those Real Housewives shows that pollute the airwaves (and our culture), but rest assured, it's only this week's episode of The A-Team that Roger review at The View from the Junkyard. Sadly, it doesn't get rid of any of those shows.

Finally, as you probably noticed (because I won't stop talking about it), my new novel, The Book of Revelations, was published this week. I know that many of you follow me because of the TV content, but if you're open to contemporary fiction and are wondering how you can help your humble scribe out, here are five easy suggestions:

1. Buy the book.

2. Read the book.

3. Review the book, at Amazon or elsewhere.

4. Tell a friend.

5. Subscribe to my newsletter. 

I can promise you that you won't regret it. And I know that "promise" is a big word, but The Book of Revelations is a big book. And for me, a big deal.

Thank you for your time! TV

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The day a book stops belonging to its author

Yesterday, The Book of Revelations was officially published. It stopped being a dream, and became a reality.

People often imagine publication as a finish line. In some ways, it is. Years of work, revisions, false starts, second thoughts, and moments of unexpected inspiration have led to this point. The manuscript is finished. The cover is complete. The decisions have all been made.

But publication is also the moment when a book stops belonging entirely to its author.

For a long time, Nan Jaffe existed only in my imagination. I knew her fears, her regrets, her hopes, and the things she carried with her through life. I knew where she had been and, eventually, where she was going. But beginning today, readers will bring their own experiences to her story. They will see things I never saw. They will respond to moments that surprised me, overlook moments I thought were important, and discover meanings that never consciously occurred to me while writing.

That is one of the great mysteries of storytelling.

A novel begins as something intensely personal. It is shaped by one person’s imagination, experiences, questions, and obsessions. Yet if it succeeds, even in a small way, it becomes something shared.

The Book of Revelations is a story about memory, identity, loss, forgiveness, and the possibility of redemption. It asks whether the things that happen to us must define us forever, and whether it is ever too late to become someone new.

I don’t know how readers will answer those questions.

Now, they get to decide for themselves.

And that, I think, is both the frightening and wonderful part of publication.

Thank you for being part of the journey. TV

If you enjoy the content here and want to support my broader creative work, please consider leaving a tip at my Ko-fi page. Any amount you contribute helps me continue writing, researching, and sharing these articles and projects. Thank you!

What's on TV? Friday, June 18, 1965

Wou know that summer is on the way when you see notices for programs like Vacation Playhouse, which will be filling in for Gomer Pyle starting next week. Reruns dominate the rest of the night, except for that special on gambling that I mentioned on Friday. But I think the Minnesota Twins game on WTCN looks very attractive, especially since this is the year the Twins go to the World Series. At least that's what I was probably watching, since this TV Guide is from the Twin Cities. Y

This week in TV Guide: June 12, 1965

WI suppose I was about five, the year this issue came out, that I received a book from my mother. It was an illustrated version of "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!", the hit song by comedian Allan Sherman. I loved both the song and the book, and for many years this was how I knew Sherman—this and the other novelty songs he did, many of which were pantomimed on the beloved Twin Cities children's show Lunch With Casey.

But I digress. As I say, it wasn't until much later that I found out Sherman was also a game-show empresario of sorts. As he describes this week in an excerpt from his autobiography, A Gift of Laughter (which might be worth tracking down some day), he and his partner, Howard Merrill, created the show I've Got a Secret, which they then sold to Goodson-Todman Productions for the princely sum of $1, with the proviso that if the show made it to air they would each receive a weekly royalty of $62.50, and Sherman was named Associate Producer, receiving an additional $125 a week. (A few years later, Sherman notes, Goodson-Todman sold I've Got a Secret to CBS for three million dollars.) 

Lest you think creating a game show concept is all fun and games, it was neither for Sherman; as he puts it, "After all those months of taking out the bugs, we had a regular insectarium on our hands." Sherman frankly admits that the first show was a disaster, and that the "secrets" that they created for celebrity guests were insipid. This came to a stop around the time that actor Monty Woolley's secret was disclosed to be that he slept with his beard under the covers. Asked by Henry Morgan whether this was really true, Woolley shouted, "Of course not, you bloody idiot. Some damn fool named Allan Sherman told me to say it." 

And then, there was the president of one of the sponsors, Prom Home Permanent, who kept meddling with the lineup of the panel. He was "violently" opposed to Laura Hobson, Nina Foch and Faye Emerson, because they all had straight hair. "His idea of the perfect panelist was Harpo Marx."

Sherman also tells of when Sir Edmund Hillary became the first man to reach the top of Mount Everest. Figuring he'd never have a better guest, he told his Production Assistant Adraia to get him on the phone." Where? she asked. "At the top of Mount Everest," he replied. "It had never occurred to me that there might not be a telephone booth at the top of Mount Everest." As it turned out, she was able to get through to the bottom of Mount Everest, where she was told Hillary was expected back in a month. "Too late!" Sherman shouted. Tell them we need him now!"

Frankly, I don't believe this story, or at least I suspect Sherman embellished it for effect, and that effect is very effective indeed. He goes on to share Mark Goodson's mania for memos (when Sherman complained that Goodson would "exhaust the world's supply of paper" if he didn't desist, Goodson replied by memo. Bill Todman wasn't any better; Sherman's request for a raise had to wait until Todman finished a call to Henry Ford to have a Lincoln Continental made to order; Todman then told Sherman that while he wouldn't give him a raise, he had something even better: a promotion from Associate Producer to Producer. 

Whether or not any of this actually happened doesn't really matter, though, because it's entertaining, and Allen Sherman is an entertainer. This book might be worth tracking down some day. In part two of this article, he promises to tell us of the day when he finally got a secretary, and he spent that weekend wondering if she'd be blonde, slinky, with a throaty voice and exotic perfumes. That is, until he got to the office on Monday and met his new secretary, Roger Peterson. 

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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:  Ed's live this week, with comedian Sid Caesar; comics Allen and Rossi; French pop singer Jean Paul Vignon; British rock 'n' roller Tom Jones; comic London Lee; singer Dee Dee Sharpe; the Seekers, folk singers; and the Wychwoods, an illusionist act which uses 14 trained poodles.

Palace:  We’re in the rerun zone at the Palace this week, with host Arthur Godfrey welcoming comedian Shelley Berman; songstress Dorothy Collins; singer John Gary; the comedy team of Gaylord and Holiday; Dwight Moore and His Mongrels; juggler Eva Vidos; and the Dalrays, comic acrobats.

Let's see: dog acts? Check. Comedians? Check. Comedy teams? Check. Singers? Check. Each show has ticked the boxes this week, which leaves us to look at the personalities.  Shelley Berman can be very funny, Dorothy Collins is easy on the eyes, and John Gary has a smooth voice. On the other hand, you have the Ceasar of comedians, and Tom Jones is still going strong! So it's not unusual for Sullivan to be the winner this week.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever we get the chance, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era. 

This week, Cleveland Amory is conducting what we might think of as something of a self-review, in which he takes a look back at some of his reviews of the past season about which, in his words, he's had "second thoughts" For, as he says, "One cannot re-review the past season without coming to grips—and possibly even stagehands—with the show which, ratings or no ratings, has become the biggest thing since Amos 'n' Andy." 

That show would be Peyton Place, and while Cleve was taken to task by many over his favorable review of the program, there's no question that everyone was talking about it. He still has one criticism, though: the pace. "The show has an irritating habit of making a federal case out of every conversation. At the wedding, for example: Rod: 'Your mother looks—beautiful.' Allison: 'You were going to say "happy," weren't you? Why didn't you, Rod?' Rod: 'Why didn't I say "happy"? Why didn't I, Allison? I don't know.' Etc, etc." And speaking of Allison, "If she can't get another emotion—or even another boy friend—would it be too much to ask for her to get another speed?"

Amory also offers praise for the best performances of the year: Jim Nabors and Frank Sutton were standouts on Gomer Pyle, as were Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick York on Bewitched. He also mentions a "splendid quartet" in serious drama: Richard Crenna (Slattery's People), David Janssen (The Fugitive), Vic Morrow (Combat!), and Robert Lansing (Twelve O'clock High).  

In late night, Amory's discouraged by the failure of ABC's Nightlife, which he calls a "monument to futility," which started out with Les Crane, and adds that "even when they did finally come up with the right man, Dave Garroway, they didn't seem to know it." And he laments the absence of new faces in the news, with the exception of ABC's Peter Jennings, and the lack of commentary on network news (specifically citing NBC, but it could apply to all three). However, let us not end on a down note. There were three bits of good news: the real possibility of a fourth commercial network, the growth of educational television, and the best news of all: CBS has a new president. James Aubrey is dead, long live James Aubrey.

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We're always looking for good, or interesting, programs during the summer rerun season, and we've got several this week.

Secret Agent is still in first-run on American television, and Saturday's episode is one of particular interest, especially for those who debate whether or not John Drake became Number Six. "Colony Three" (8:00 p.m., CBS) is, as one author put it, "a fascinating anticipation of The Prisoner." The premise: "Drake assumes a new identity and joins a group of defectors about to be transported to a training school for spies in Eastern Europe."

On Sunday, ABC presents the third installment in their Daring Americans series, "Assault on Le Mans" (6:30 p.m.), portraying American Grand Prix champion Phil Hill, one of the greatest racing drivers of the 1960s. Hill was the first American, and the only native-born one, to win the World Driving Championship. Now he's at the fabled Le Mans, a race he's won three times in the past. His teammate in the 24-hour race is Bruce McLaren, as they drive for the upstart American Ford team, taking on the legendary European powers, particularly Ferrari. Hill and McLaren don't win; as a matter of fact, they dropped out after 192 laps. But two years later, Ford would topple mighty Ferrari, the legendary Ford GT taking first, second and third. The documentary is done in cinéma vérité style by Robert Drew Associates, which famously did several similar documentaries on John F. Kennedy, including Primary.

As we move into reruns, Monday's Ben Casey (9:00 p.m., ABC) presents a story that, for all the complaints scriptwriters have about not being able to tell adult dramas, probably wouldn't have been told even five years ago. In "A Disease of the Heart Called Love," Shelley Winters plays a divorced, middle-aged nurse who becomes pregnant. She's also got a medical condition that makes her pregnancy dangerous. Casey and Zorba advise her to "terminate the pregnancy," but she wants to keep the baby. So this touches a number of buttons: unmarried mothers, abortion, the loneliness of the unmarried. They don't get much more adult than that. It's directed by Mark Rydell, and features Milt Kamen and, as Dr. Watson, James Doohan.

Tuesday features one of those how-many-times-has-this-happened-to-you moments on The Fugitive: (9:00 p.m., ABC): "When a philandering husband is found murdered, the chief suspect is his girl friend Lucey Russell. But Lucey has an alibi: she was with Kimble." I did a bit on this many years ago, where I looked at the typical tropes of typical series and wondered just how many times they actually happened to ordinary people. This one is a little better, though, in that you don't have to be relying on an escaped convicted murderer to provide your alibi; it could be someone cheating on their spouse, someone who called in sick to work, or any number of people who wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time doing something they shouldn't be doing. I think it's called karma.

I'm going off the primetime grid for Wednesday's choice: Stanley Kubrick's terrific noir The Killing (10:30 p.m., KMSP), with Sterling Hayden leading a gang planning a race-track robbery. The gang includes Vince Edwards, who was Ben Casey on Monday night; Elisha Cook, Jr. as a very nervous teller working for the gang on the inside; and Marie Windsor as the dame who does him wrong. Based on this movie, Kubrick and his producer, James Harris, got the chance to make a movie for MGM: Paths of Glory. That was a pretty fair movie, too.

Thursday's repeat episode of The Defenders is "Blacklisted" (9:00 p.m., CBS) with Jack Klugman starring as a formerly blacklisted actor whose comeback is being threatened by a "vigilante" group trying to get him fired. So we have Klugman, one of the most intense, scene-chewing actors around; we have McCarthyite villains in the "vigilantes" trying to prevent a decent man from earning a living; and we have The Defenders itself, one of the more strident, issues-oriented programs on the air.

In fact, the episode is quite good. Klugman is, for the most part, well within himself as a man who shows his regrets not by what he says or does, but by what he keeps inside him. Your opinion of the episode is going to be based in large part on your opinions of the blacklist, the Red Scare, and everything that's happened since.  The Defenders was one of the quality programs of the early 60s, a series that wasn't afraid to take on serious issues. Its flaw, and it was a major one, was when it stepped over the line into strident advocacy, as it increasingly did in later seasons. But decide for yourself—you can see it here.

On Friday night, ABC turns its attention to gambling in another amusing documentary, as host Terry-Thomas takes a humorous look at "the urge to gamble" in Everybody's Got a System. (7:30 p.m.) The show visits horse racing tracks in Europe, talks to bettors and bookies to learn about the sport's attraction, visits a bingo parlor to see how even small-scale gambling can thrill, and visits the casinos, where Thomas explains his own "system" at the roulette wheel. It seems lightweight, but a fun show, not unlike something you might see on History or A&E today.

Also on Friday, Jack Paar's in London for this week's rerun (9:00 p.m., NBC), with a stellar cast of his own: the legendary Judy Garland, the very witty Robert Morley, and the distinguished journalist Randolph Churchill, son of the late Winston. I've seen clips of this on one of the Paar compilation videos, and it's very funny—particularly this bit where a slightly tipsy Judy has some fun at Marlene Dietrich's expense:

Oh, and she can still sing a bit, too. What a sad, sad life she led.

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Fashion alert: it's time for another starlet to display the latest in haute fashion.  This time it's actress Janet Margolin, who will go on to a successful career with appearances in media as varied as Woody Allen movies, a Ghostbusters sequel, and episodes of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote.  But never mind that—her mission this week is to show off the newest craze, the Finnish Marimekko, made famous by Jackie Kennedy.

Janet Margolin died of cancer in 1993, not quite 30 years after this issue.

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James Arness is so big (besides being 6'7", that is), he even dominates this week's profile of Milburn Stone, who plays Doc on the long-running Gunsmoke. Stone remembers the first few years working with Arness, and he wasn't impressed: "He'd be late or wouldn't show up—never apologize. And once he was there he'd clown around." When Stone couldn't take it any longer, he lit into Arness at a rehearsal, telling him that he didn't belong in the business, and added that "I've read my contract and there's nothing in it that says I have to put diapers on you or wait for you. And if you ever show up late again, buddy, you'll have two things to explain—not only where you were, but where I went!" To Stone's surprise, Arness took the tongue-lashing like a man, telling him that "You're absolutely right." "From that moment on," Stone says, Arness changed, becoming the consummate profession we've read about in TV Guide. "I began to love that guy. He's a great big wonderful cub bear."

I watched Gunsmoke when I was a kid, primarily because my grandfather did, and although I wouldn't rank it as a favorite it was a memorable show nonetheless. The byplay between the main characters—Matt, Doc, Festus and Kitty, and the obvious chemistry between the actors playing them—is the glue that held the show together, and watching it in reruns today confirms the quality of the program.

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Finally, on this longer-than-usual entry, a brief mention of Edith Efron's profile of Gig Young. Young is an acclaimed stage and movie actor, and his career will end with three Oscar nominations (and one win) to his credit, but in this issue he's talking about his current series, The Rogues, in which he stars along with Charles Boyer and David Niven. I bring this up because this article, which I read some years ago now, was the first time I'd read about The Rogues, a series about a family of good-natured con artists making a living out of swindling people who deserve it. According to the reviews, there is a sense that The Rogues is too literate, too clever, for the average viewer who wants his television without having to think about it.

I first saw The Rogues a few years ago on MeTV, and I was absolutely charmed by it. It's a show that desperately deserves a commercial DVD release (although you can get copies if you know where to look); it's better than Leverage, more humorous than The A-Team, and not nearly as complicated as Mission: Impossible. And since it is a series, unlike The Sting, you get to see it every week. It should have run for more than one season, and if you ever get the chance you should give it a try. I will be surprised if my readers aren't as charmed by it as was I.

nsert text here TV

If you enjoy the content here and want to support my broader creative work, please consider leaving a tip at my Ko-fi page. Any amount you contribute helps me continue writing, researching, and sharing these articles and projects. Thank you!