What's on TV: Thursday, July 16, 1959

You might notice that the image above includes channel bullets for stations I haven't listed below, such as channels 27 and 43. Now, that's not because I'm holding back on you; you should know better than that by now, dear readers. No, it's that the Philadelphia edition carries network listings only for the four additional stations in Harrisburg, Lebanon, and York, Pennsylvania. Given that we already know what those network programs are, it would seem somewhat redundant to include them, wouldn't it? So don't worry; you aren't missing a thing!

This week in TV Guide: July 11, 1959

There are different ways to describe women, and to prioritize one is not to deny the others: beautiful, attractive, alluring, cute. There is no wrong answer; all of them are good. The way to describe that picture of Lola Albright below is cute. As I said, no wrong answer.

Lola Albright is the costar of Peter Gunn, playing Edie Hart to Craig Stevens' Pete, and she says she appreciates the chance to play "a real woman." I've written before about Peter Gunn, one of television's "jazz detectives" of the late '50s and early '60s, and one of the points I try to emphasize is that the relationship between Pete and Edie is one between two adults, something you don't see too often anymore in a world populated by thirtysomething adolescent snowflakes. But what does that actually mean? I don't think I could describe it any better than she does:

Well, without taking away from her humanness, her first consideration is her man. Edie is not a paragon - far from it. I don't suppose you'd find her teaching Sunday school.

Are Edie and Pete in love. Well, sure. Presumably they'll marry one day—but not on the program, obviously. Meantime their relationship is—well, adult. Edie is too smart not to know better than to try to tie Pete down. It would be the surest way for her to lose him.

Then, too, his work brings him in contact with other women, many of them extremely attractive. Her sense of humor carries her through this situation, and she is able to deal with it. That's a good womanly trait. Edie also is on hand to show another facet of Pete—his sentimental side. And his steadfast side, because no matter what might happen, he always returns to her.

That's Edie for you. I wish I knew myself as well as I know her. I might add that I think the realism of this relationship is one of the things that keeps the show on top.

From your lips to today's network executives' ears, Lola. If only they knew what that kind of a mature relationship adds to a story—but then, are the viewers mature enough to appreciate it?

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As the summer doldrums continue, we'll go straight to the week's highlights, starting with the "ripped from today's headlines" category: Saturday's episode of the very fine police drama Brenner, starring Edward Binns and James Broderick as father and son policemen (9:00 p.m., CBS), features a story about a patrolman whose gun kills a young lawbreaker. "After it is discovered that the youth was unarmed, the newspapers launch a tirade against police brutality." (At least the police don't have CNN to contend with.) An hour later on Gunsmoke (10:00 p.m., CBS), Matt hunts down a man who tried to kill him; among the guest stars are Harry Townes, who may well have appeared on every TV series ever shown, and Paul Newlan, who was Lee Marvin's boss on M Squad and always seemed to be waiting for him at the crime scene.

Carol Channing, the Dukes of Dixieland, and Wayne and Shuster headline The Ed Sullivan Show (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., CBS), while Janet Blair and John Raitt host the summer replacement for Dinah Shore on NBC at 9:00 p.m.; among their guests is the young Joel Grey. If variety's not your cup of tea, Ronald Reagan and Carol Lynley star in an intriguing G.E. Theater on CBS; Reagan plays a newspaper reporter who runs across the site of a car crash involving a famed Hungarian scientist, while Lynley is a hitchhiker who blames the scientist for the accident.

Monday night features the two stars on this week's cover, Craig Stevens and Lola Albright, in Peter Gunn (9:00 p.m., NBC). Tonight, Edie asks Pete to help a close friend of hers, singer Lynn Martel, who fears someone is trying to kill her. At 10:00 p.m. on CBS, Desilu Playhouse presents "The Killer Instinct," with Rory Calhoun as a former boxer who becomes manager of a promising young fighter. And The Arthur Murray Party (NBC, 10:00 p.m.) features a dance contest, natch; the guests are George Raft, Gene Autry, Joanne Dru, and Sheilah Graham.

On Tuesday, The Naked City (ABC, 9:00 p.m.) offers one of those little quirks that I always enjoy. The story involves the lead detectives, Muldoon and Halloran (John McIntire, James Franciscus, right) visiting tugboat captain Adam Flint (Cameron Prud'homme). Writer Stirling Silliphant must have really liked the name he came up with for the captain; when the show returned in 1960 for its second season, new star Paul Burke played a detective named—Adam Flint. Either that, or the captain underwent a remarkable career transformation.

On Wednesday, British comedian Dave King continues his stint as the replacement for Milton Berle's Kraft Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC). King was a somewhat surprising choice to take Berle's place, but as this week's profile points out, he was the right man in the right place at the right time. "We had heard of Dave through his agent in London," explains Larry Kanga, president of General Artists Corporation. "When we saw kinescopes of his show we were terribly excited about him as an American TV personality." It didn't hurt that the kines also impressed Perry Como, whose production company, Roncom, was responsible for filling the timeslot. Como greased the skids by introducing King on a couple of his own shows prior to King taking over the Wednesday night slot. He'll have moderate success in the States despite employing Mel Brooks as one of his writers; King will enjoy a long and varied career, encompassing straight dramatic acting on both television and in the movies, music hall appearances, and comedy series, before his death in 2002 at age 72. Of his transition to American television, King said, "There's little difference between TV over there and over here—except for your meetin's. They kill me." They kill us too, Dave.

Edward G. Robinson makes a rare television appearance in "Shadows Tremble," Thursday's episode of Playhouse 90 (9:30, CBS), which also stars Ray Walston, Beatrice Straight, and Robert Webber. It's up against NBC's Masquerade Party, and would this description cause you to tune in? "Tonight's mystery guests come disguised as an Eskimo who beats another Eskimo in a fight, a gingerbread man standing next to a gingerbread house, and a barber who attempts to fit the panelists with wigs." Well, maybe it's the kind of situation that caused VCRs to be invented.

On Friday, Bob Hope guests as himself on a rerun of I Love Lucy that sees everyone's favorite redhead try to get Hope for the opening of Ricky's club. (8:30 p.m., CBS) That picture, by the way, plays off of Hope's role as part-owner of the Cleveland Indians. Elsewhere, on CBS's Playhouse* (not to be confused with Playhouse 90, which we mentioned in the previous paragraph), James Stewart produces, directs, and narrates the docutrama "Cowboy Five Seven" (9:30 p.m.), the story of a routine day in the lives of the men serving in the Strategic Air Command. All those appearing in the drama are actual officers and enlisted men playing themselves, and I don't think I'll ever get over the idea of just how cool these men were; in the story, Major Gerald McKay leaves for work that morning, just like any other American man, promising he'll be home in time for his daughter's recital that night—unless, that is, he has to fly off and bomb Russia. That last part isn't part of the show's description, but it must have hung over everyone, unsaid, every time they headed off to the base. It takes a lot of courage to put that out of your mind, unlikely though it may have been on any given day. Finally, for the more pugnatious among you, there's a middleweight bout between Rory Calhoun (not the actor) and Dick Tiger (not yet the world middleweight and light-heavyweight champion) on NBC's Gillette Cavalcade of Sports (10:00 p.m.).

*Actually, either Schlitz Playhouse or Lux Playhouse, depending on the week's sponsor.

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Some odds and ends from the news wires: former president Harry Truman is reported to be one of the possible choices as the new host of CBS's Person to Person, succeeding Edward R. Murrow. Walter Cronkite, Ed Sullivan, and Jackie Gleason are others rumored to be in contention, but the final choice will be far less sensational and far more practical: former foreign correspondent Charles Collingwood, one of the "Murrow Boys" from the network's World War II reporting.

There was also a possibility of change at Ziv studios, but that seems to have been avoided, at least for the time being. Gene Barry, star of the studio's (and NBC's) successful Western Bat Masterson, has been holding out for more money and a better tax situation, and now he's apparently got it, but not before the studio offered the role to Gordon MacRae, who reportedly declined, saying "I'm pretty good with a gun, but with a cane I'm nothing." Which would have made for a beautiful morning for MacRae, perhaps, but maybe not such a beautiful day for Barry.

Walt Disney has sued ABC for antitrust violations, claiming the network is preventing him from shopping programs to other networks. Of course, ABC and Disney have had a long and successful relationship; the network even helped finance the construction of Disneyland. But TV Guide has reported in the past of Disney's growing frustration with the network over, among other things, limiting the variety of programs aired on Disneyland; too many Westerns for Walt's taste, if I recall correctly. Eventually, Walt takes his show and move to NBC. The irony, of course, is that now Disney owns ABC, although I don't think Walt would be pleased with either the studio or the network nowadays.

Jim Aubrey has taken over for Hubbell Robinson as programming chief for CBS, and in many ways the medium will never be the same. Robinson left CBS for a chance to run a proposed big-name series sponsored by Ford. (Ford Startime). During his tumultuous tenure at CBS, Aubrey will be responsible—according to his many, many critics—for pandering to the lowest common denominator* with shows like The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island, Petticoat Junction, and The Munsters. All of which, by the way, were pretty successful. 

*His formula for success was said to be "broads, bosoms, and fun,"

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YouTube provides a wealth of obscure television that has fallen into the public domain or otherwise avoided legitimate DVD release, and one of those series is Markham, the private detective series starring Oscar-winner Ray Milland that ran from 1958 through 1960. I like Ray Milland, and I like private detective stories, which made the series worth checking out. The results of my experiment in a moment.

First, there's TV Guide's review of the series, and it's not a positive one. Whereas Milland had built up Markham as "a combination Sherlock Holmes and Lord Peter Wimsey," Frank DeBlois reports that any resemblance to either of the great literary detectives is purely coincidental. "To be honest about it, Markham is nothing more than run-of-the-eyeball private-eye stuff." And even though some of the location shots are terrific, from cities such as Paris, Cairo, and Old Quebec, "Unfortunately, no matter where they film it, Markham never gets off the launching pad." The plots are "out of the meat-grinder," and the dialogue: well, the word used to describe it is "painful."

As for my own experience? Well, some of these words seem a bit harsh, but I can't really argue with the conclusion. To me, the show was run-of-the-eyeball, or at least run-of-the-mill. There was nothing terribly different or exciting about it; one episode featured Markham being locked out on an apartment balcony building during a freezing storm which will surely mean the end of him if he doesn't figure out some way of reentry into the building. All the way in the leadup to this situation, I'd hoped that Markham was just playing it cool, letting the killer fall into his trap - but no, Markham actually fell for the rather lame maneuver that allowed his adversary to trap him outside. It was, to be honest, a bit disappointing. There are other episodes, of course, some of them much better than this. And, as long as we are being honest, there never has been a private detective series on television in which a plot similar to this hasn't shown up somewhere along the line—with the exception, perhaps, of the aforementioned Sherlock Holmes, who was never bamboozled by anyone.

Don't get me wrong: I'm glad Markham is out there, just in case I get the urge to sample it again. I could be wrong about it, and it wouldn't be the first time I've felt that way about a series I wound up loving. But as long as TV Guide felt the same way I did, I don't feel so bad.

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Finally, a story that only someone of my age, or a little older, can really appreciate.

It turns out that around this time there was an organization known as the American Ionospheric Propagation Association, or AIPA for short. The club has members from teens to sexagenarians, publishes regular newsletters, and has regular conventions at which officers are elected, business is conducted, and members share their latest discoveries. Now, you're thinking, this is all well and good, and we know what AIPA stands for, but just what does AIPA actually do? I'm afraid the answer to that will result in another question, because the members of AIPA keep each other informed on the latest developments in "TV-DX." To which your reaction, quite rightly, should be to ask what that means.

What it means is that the members of AIPA spend their hobby time comparing notes on who's been able to pull in a television signal from the farthest distance away ("DX" being the standard abbreviation for "distance," don't you know). For example, one member, living in Dunkirk, New Jersey, was once able to pull in a signal from Havana, Cuba—and has a picture of the station's test pattern to prove it. Several factors conspire to make these atmospheric events possible: between May and July, for instance, the ionosphere becomes heavily charged, making the atmosphere denser, which causes TV signals that would otherwise head out to space to bend back toward the earth, often resulting in a distortion of several hundred (or even thousand) miles out from the intended viewing area.

Many of you may have experienced something similar when listening to the radio, when at the right time of the year and right time of the night you might be able to pull in radio broadcasts from St. Louis or Chicago or somewhere on one of the coasts; that's how I got to hear Jack Buck and Vin Scully and Lloyd Pettit when I was growing up. Television could work the same way, at least before cable and satellite, when you depended on a pair of rabbit ears and an outdoor antenna to get your television. Even in the '70s, living in the World's Worst Town™ with little more than a single aerial sticking out of the back of a black-and-white portable in my second-floor bedroom, I was able to get faint signals from the Twin Cities, 150 miles away. I got to see the odd half of football in the old World Football League (Channel 11), or the beginning of A.M. America (Channel 9), and on occasion part of a late movie or local show. It was quite the thing for me, and I was only looking for the Twin Cities; imagine what it would have been like had I gotten a signal from Montana or Michigan or—gasp—Iowa!

Really, moving that aerial around, twisting the dial this way and that, trying to see what came out of a field of static, was all rather exciting. And while I have nothing but love for cable and satellite and the wonderfully crisp, shadow-free pictures that we get, I admit that it makes the pursuit of television just that bit less romantic, even as television did the same to radio. It's all just a bit too easy nowadays, though I don't know what you can do about it. After all, if there's no room for romance in the shows we watch, what hope do we have for the rest of the television hobby? TV  

Around the dial

Now there's my idea of living; the Nelsons with a built-in TV! Not too far removed from the wall-mounted concept, is it? And with a lot less to worry about as far as bashing a hole in the wall. And now on to this week's entertainment.

The latest edition of "American TV with Mitchell Hadley" is up at Dan Schneider's Cosmoetica, and this month, it's a doubleheader, as Dan and I look at two of recent history's most controversial TV figures: Bill Cosby and Roseanne Barr. You can view them here!

At bare•bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project continues apace with "The Little Man Who Was There," a fifth-season episode written by Gordon Russell and Larry Ward, a charming story of con men in the Old West, with the redoubtable Norman Lloyd, Arch Johnson, and Read Morgan.

David continues his journey through 1970s primetime at Comfort TV; we're up to Tuesday nights in 1976, and it's a prime lineup indeed, from ABC's Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley to M*A*S*H and One Day at a Time on CBS, and even Police Woman and Police Story on NBC. Remember all those?

Meanwhile, at Cult TV Blog, John has a periodic mini-review of several shows that may merit a full write-up in the future, and we gave quite a collection from the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, and genres that range from political to science fiction to children's programs, all of which sound worthwhile.

At ReelWeegieMidget, Gill reviews a book that's a neat change-of-pace from what we usually see in the TV book realm: Cooking the Detectives: A Bite Sized Guide To The Tastiest Detective Shows, by Jenny Hammerton; in it, she reviews TV detective episodes with food and drink themes. 

At The Twilight Zone Vortex, Jordan continues his review of The Twilight Zone Magazine, and this time we're up to the issue of March/April 1984, featuring interviews with Burgess Meredith and Scott Glen, reviews by Thomas M. Disch, cartoons by Gahan Wilson, a story by Richard Matheson, and more!

Television's New Frontier: The 1960s visits the 1962 episodes of the Western series Tales of Wells Fargo, starring Dale Robertson. Not one of the best-known Westerns of the time, but certainly an interesting one, with a star who was always dependable.

Terrence remembers actor Michael Madsen at A Shroud of Thoughts. Madsen, who died last week at age 67 and was the brother of actress Virginia Madsen, was part of Quentin Tarantino's regular stable of actors, and also a frequent figure (and voice) on television throughout his career. TV  

TV Jibe: Why we need talk shows

TV  

What's on TV? Tuesday, July 10, 1962

On Saturday, we discussed, at what was probably excessive length, the feature attraction of the day, baseball's All-Star Game; surely, however, there are other things to attract our attention. So let's take a look at The Verdict Is Yours, which ran on CBS for five seasons, starting in 1957. It must be one of the more unusual daytime dramas on a network: a 30-minute courtroom drama, using real lawyers and judges, with the defendants and witnesses being played by actors ad-libbing their lines from an outline. Not only that, but the court reporter was played first by Jim McKay (before heading to Wide World of Sports and greatness), then newsman Bill Stout, and, this week, CBS sportscaster Jack Whittaker. That's the kind of courtroom show we need today! And you read about it here, in the Eastern New England edition.

This week in TV Guide: July 7, 1962

Ernie Banks, the great Hall-of-Famer for the Chicago Cubs, was fond of saying, on a beautiful day, "Let's play two!" It's doubtful that he had the All-Star Game in mind when he said that, and yet here we are in 1962, getting ready this week for the first of two baseball All-Star Games, this one to be played Tuesday afternoon at 12:45 p.m. ET on NBC, with Mel Allen and Joe Garagiola providing the play-by-play from the brand-new District of Columbia Stadium in, where else, Washington, D.C. (The second game is scheduled for July 30 at Wrigley Field in Chicago.)

Now, you may be wondering why they're playing two All-Star Games this year, and it's a very good question. The birth of the second game came in 1959, to increase contributions to the players' pension fund, which had just started in 1947 and only paid modest amounts to retired players. However, even players who stood to gain from the increased fund were less than thrilled with the idea; future Hall of Famer Early Wynn spoke for many of them when he said that playing two games would make the game less important, less special. (Remember this argument, because you're going to see it come back in a couple of paragraphs.) League officials hated the idea of trying to fit two all-star breaks into what was already a long schedule, which had increased from 154 to 162 games per team the previous season.

But in the days when there was no interleague play, when most teams only televised a fraction of their games back to local fans, and when there were only a couple of nationally-televised games each week, the prospect of a second game, giving fans an additional chance to see the best players from both leagues, seemed like a good idea—at first. It didn't take long for problems to begin, though: in 1959, the second game was played in Los Angeles on a Monday, the day after every team in the league played a full slate of Sunday games (many of them doubleheaders). Players were exhausted by the time they arrived in Los Angeles, and attendance was "only" 55,000—pretty good until you realize the Coliseum, where the game was played, could hold over 90,000. In 1960, the games were played two days apart, one in Kansas City and the other in New York, where fewer than 40,000 fans attended in Yankee Stadium. The 1962 season would be the last in which two games were played; for 1963, the traditional single game would have to do.

But is baseball's All-Star Game—the "Midsummer Classic," as they call it—still special? Remember what Early Wynn said about diluting the importance of the game; well, today we have interleague play regularly; teams routinely televise all their games, either OTA, on cable, or streaming; and games are nationally televised on ESPN, TBS, Fox, and even Roku. The starters only play a few innings, and some of them have already jetted off before the game ends. The goal seems to be not to win, but to make sure everyone gets a chance to participate. For a few years, the league that won the game was rewarded with home-field advantage, but even that failed to really spice things up. One could be forgiven for thinking that the very concept of an all-star game of any kind, in any sport, is passe. Even when I watched baseball, and it's been about eight years since I've seen a game even on television, it had been years since I'd tuned in the All-Star Game, and I'm certainly not inclined to do it again.

But then, the game still sells out and draws a sizeable TV audience; nowhere near what it used to be, of course, but one could say that about everything on television save the NFL. It's one of those things where you can't turn back the clock; you just have to live with it—or not.

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The reason I spent so much time on the All-Star Game is that we're now officially in the dog days of summer, and most of what we've got on tap consists of reruns, summer replacements, and failed pilots. In fact, there's an entire section of TV Guide devoted just to reruns, in the same way there are sections for movies, sports, and specials—two whole pages, in fact. But, as I was mentioning to someone the other day, this is the way television used to be back in the pre-VCR, pre-DVD, pre-on-demand days: the summer rerun season was the time for viewers to catch up on the shows they might have missed when they were first shown, whether due to being out or watching someting else on at the same time. Doesn't matter now, of course, but it was very helpful back then to have a list of repeats you could check out. 

One show that isn't a rerun is The Lawrence Welk Show, and Saturday marks the Maestro's eighth year on television (9:00 p.m., ABC). Among the selections: "Say it with Music," the opening number from the opening show. Something you wouldn't have heard on that opening show is the biggest hit that Lawrence ever had: "Calcutta," which made it to Number One on the charts back in 1960. Here's Bobby and Barbara doing their famous dance routine.

On Sunday, it's the final—and one of the greatest—episodes of Maverick (6:30 p.m., ABC), "Three Queens Full," a wild parody of a certain hit show seen Sundays on "another network," that finds Bart (Jack Kelly) chaperoning three women coming from San Francisco to marry the "three idiot sons" of rancher Joe Wheelwright: Moose (Hoss), Henry (Adam), and Small Paul (Little Joe). Jim Backus is Lorne Greene—that is, Ben Cartwright—I mean, Joe Wheelwright; while the ladies in question are Merry Anders, Kasey Rogers, and Allyson Ames. A line at the end of the description notes that "Any resemblance to another TV series called "Bonanza" is purely intentional."

Speaking of reruns, The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour dips deep into the past with the 1957 episode "Lucy Takes a Cruise to Havana" (Monday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), in which Lucy tells columnist Hedda Hopper the story of how she and Ricky got together. Ann Sothern and Cesar Romero guest star, and Rudy Vallee plays himself. Of course, this episode originally aired a couple of years before Castro's takeover, and our rerun comes just three months before the Cuban Missile Crisis; timing, as they say, is everything. I wonder how many examples there are of shows like this—non-period pieces—in which a country was free when the episode originally aired, and Communist when it was reshown later. I'm sure there must be several, especially in the case of Cuba, but with tensions in the region about to get even higher, I wonder how viewers appreciated a comedy about Cuba?

A star-studded repeat on The Dick Powell Show lightens up Tuesday night (9:00 p.m., ABC); Powell and his wife, June Allyson lead the way in "The Time to Die," the story of a crime boss on the verge of death, who's given a second chance at life—but only if he can find someone, from a specially drawn-up list, to die in his place. The script is by Aaron Spelling, and it bears all the trademarks of Spelling's later series Burke's Law (produced by Powell's Four Star Productions), with appearances by Tuesday Weld, Andy Williams, John Saxon, Ernest Truex, Edgar Bergen, and Ricky and Pamela Powell, who just happen to be Powell and Allyson's son and daughter. That's followed by the anthology Alcoa Premiere (10:00 p.m., ABC), in which host Fred Astaire stars with Maureen O'Sullivan and Harry Townes in "Moment of Decision," with Astaire as an escape artist with a very disagreeable neighbor.

The aforementioned Tuesday Weld also stars in a very good Naked City rerun on Wednesday (10:00 p.m, ABC). She and Rip Torn play a thrill-seeking hillbilly couple who embark on a crime spree, beginning by shooting detective Arcaro (Harry Bellaver). We'll complete our Tuesday trifecta a bit later, with a profile of the young star and her growing career: is she turning into a real actress? Stay tuned.

Syndicated repeats of Peter Gunn begin Thursday on Boston's WHDH with "The Candidate" (7:30 p.m.), in which Gunn is hired to find out who's trying to assassinate gubernatorial candidate Adrian Grimmett, running on a no-taxes platform. I suppose we could start with accountants, tax preparers, and IRS agents to begin with; think about how many of them would be out of work! Later, on Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater (9:30 p.m., CBS), Edward G. Robinson makes a rare television appearance, along with his son, Edward G. Robinson Jr., in the story of a family divided by the Civil War. And the Tiffany Network's morning show Calendar presents a special primetime episode (10:00 p.m.), as hosts Harry Reasoner and Mary Fickett (above) look at the daytime life of the American homemaker, with guests Vivian Vance, Bob Keeshan, and Bob and Ray.

On Friday, Jimmy Dean wraps up a week as guest host of The Tonight Show during the interim period between Jack Paar's departure on March 30 and the arrival of Johnny Carson on October 1 (11:15 p.m., NBC). The list of hosts who filled in until Carson's arrival is pretty interesting, filled with names you'd expect (Joey Bishop, Merv Griffin, Jerry Lewis) and those who might be more surprising (Jack Carter, Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healy, Mort Sahl). Groucho Marx did a week, as did comedian Jack E. Leonard, while Merv and Art Linkletter each did four weeks, and Hugh Downs (Jack's sidekick) hosted for three weeks. Last week Jerry was up, and next week it's Arlene Francis's turn, making her the first female host of Tonight. 

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The third annual TV Guide Awards were broadcast on June 24 on NBC, wth host Dave Garroway presenting a passel of presents to deserving programs and performers, including Bob Hope, who won an award for performing for the first time in his 40 years in the business, for "Best Single Musical or Variety Program." Hope, never at a loss for words, said of the award, "I got to rush this over to my stock broker." Favorite Male and Female Performers went to Vince Edwards and Carol Burnett, Favorite Series was taken by Bonanza, and Favorite New Series went to Ben Casey. The broadcast got generally positive reviews, and for those who left empty-handed, Garroway had these words of encouragement: "Virtue is its own reward."

On the Teletype, ABC's new Saturday night series, McHale's Men, is taking shape, and it's noted that there was uncertainty as to whether the show would be "heavy drama or comedy." This uncertainty dates back to the origin of the series as an episode of Alcoa Premiere entitled "Seven Against the Sea." The story, taking place in the Pacific theater during World War II, starred Ernest Borgnine as Lieutenant Commander Quinton McHale, captain of the torpedo boat PT-73. He and his men were stranded at Taratupa base, which had been substantially destroyed by a Japanese attack. Left on their own, as Japanese patrols prevented any rescue attempt, McHale and his men had drifted into a comfortable, laissez-faire lifestyle with the island's natives. Despite these similarities, though, "Seven Against the Sea" was a drama with comedic overtones, and symbolized by a conflict between McHale and his executive officer, Lieutenant Durham, a by-the-book Annapolis man. 

When the movie was spun off into a series of its own, it was, therefore, understandable that the show could go either way, as a comedy or a drama. Borgnine would later remember that the original intent had been to use the show as a vehicle for Ron Foster, who played Durham; when that didn't work out, Borgnine became the lead, and the tone of the show was shifted to comedy. If there was any doubt, the Teletype announces that the first two supporting roles have been cast: comedian Tim Conway, and comic magician Carl Ballantine. And the series itself would come to be titled McHale's Navy. 

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Gil Seldes, TV Guide's critic, takes a look this week at Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color, which, as he says, is really "the wonderful world of Walt Disney," notwithstanding the efforts of RCA and Eastman Kodak in pointing out to us all the wonderful benefits of the world being seen in color.

Seldes's relationship with Disney goes way back; "I was," he points out, "born early enough to have seen 'Steamboat Willie,'" the first appearance of Mickey Mouse. He's been a Mickey and Donald fan ever since, and despite Disney's efforts in live-action presentations, they remain the core of the Disney appeal. On the other hand, "I think Disney's early efforts to 'humanize' animals were (and still are) a mistake." He cites an often-fascinating film on the peregrine hawk as an example of Disney at both his best and his worst; the part of the film in which we're shown how the hawk is trained "can entrance the person who doesn't know but is excited by the unknown." He then plunges us into "a wallow of pity for pigeons that get killed and boys who are crippled, and—I think this is what makes me sore—at the end I'm on his side." Let them live their lives and let us live our lives." Everyone knows what it's like to laugh at a joke and, a moment later, feel it was "pretty sour." "I like Disney," he concludes, "even when I don't like him much." 

Lest you get the wrong impression, though, he adds this: "Walt Disney is one of the very few people who has added to the enjoyment of life of virtually everyone now alive. The only single human being I know who has done more in the entertainment profession is Charles Chaplin." He doesn't know if Disney would take that as a compliment or not; I think he would. But, in it's most literal sense, "the world of Walt Disney is a part of the world we cannot live without."

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And now for that profile of Tuesday Weld that I've been promising. I've never lived in a world in which Tuesday Weld wasn't already well-known as being, if not a great actress, a star. She was once married to Pinchas Zuckerman, and if you're an aficionado of classical music, you'll know that pretty much qualifies you as being cool.* But in 1962 Tuesday Weld is in the process of transforming from a starlet to a name; it is, I think, that point in one's career where things could go either way. For Tuesday, it went in a good way, even though you can look at her career and think it could have amounted to more.

*She was also married to Dudley Moore, making her coolness quotient even higher.

Three years ago, when she was a mere 15-year-old, Danny Kaye described her as "15, going on 27." She once showed up for a TV interview "barefoot, hair unkempt, cigaret lodged in the corner of her mouth, and wearing what appeared to be a nightgown." (Nowadays, someone probably would have told her that she didn't have to dress up, and would have meant that as a compliment.) She'd been called "the Baby Beatnik," "the new Kim Novak," "the sexiest teenager since Liz Taylor," and "a disgrace to Hollywood." For her own part, she remarked that "If teen-agers are gullible enough to use me as a model, that's their problem." During a recent return to the show in which she was once a regular, Dobie Gillis (Warren Beatty was another alumnus of the show), Max Shulman said, "This was an elegant Tuesday we'd never seen before—a real professional, hair up, wearing a smart business suit. And she knew her lines! In the old days she never used to know line one."  She's turned in strong performances in recent shows: The Dick Powell Show and Naked City (both of which we read about earlier), Adventures in Paradise, and the pilot for Bus Stop, which some speculate could be the turning point in her career.

"I've had no turning point," she tells our unidentified interviewer. "All of life is a turning point. But I do feel more confident now." She sees herself as, variously, a mature actress, a child-woman, a spoiled little girl, and, "sometimes—I see nothing at all." She was born Susan Ker Weld (her parents had expected a boy and didn't have any girl names ready), but had always been called Tuesday because, her mother says, "she looked like a Tuesday." (Besides, Tuesday adds, "Thursday is a boy's name." From the Norse god Thor, you know.) A couple of years ago, she had her name legally changed, and so Tuesday it is. 

She remains a polarizing figure; one director said that working with her was like trying to get an elephant to move, while others doubt her ability to transform from a star to a true actress. On the other hand, many of her co-stars have nothing but good things to say about her, and director Ted Post says, "There's always been a deep, serious vein in this girl—it's coming out now." Those in the know say her steady relationship with actor Gary Lockwood has been a "steadying influence." And Rod Amateau, the producer-director of Dobie Gillis, says, "Nothing is going to stop this girl short of a cataclysm—and I mean nothing."

l  l  l

Finally, there's no MST3K this week, but it's not for lack of trying. For example, on Saturday night's late movie on WJAR in Providence, we've got 1959's Cosmic Monsters, starring Forrest Tucker and Gaby Andre: "The world is threatened with destruction when a mad scientist sets loose huge insects." On Tuesday, it's WMTW in Poland Spring and Prehistoric Women, from 1950, with Laurette Luez, Alan Mixon, and Mara Lynn: "A group of cave women go in search of husbands. On the way, they encounter dinosaurs and other monsters." And on Friday, there's The Ghost of Frankenstein on WNAC in Boston, with Lon Chaney Jr., Sir Cedric Hardwicke, and Ralph Bellamy: "A man plans to replace the criminal brain in a mobster's head with the brain of an educated man." What, I ask you, could possibly go wrong?  TV  

Around the dial

I tried to come up with a picture of George Washington watching television for today, but unfortunately, photography hadn't yet been invented, so we'll go instead with a picture of Sebastian Coe's mother watching her son win the gold medal in the 1500 meters at the 1980 Olympics. This came, by the way, from a 2017 story of how 80 people in Bristol, England, were still watching black and white TV. Among the reasons given were that the license for a black and white TV costs only a third of what one pays to watch TV in color (or, I should say, colour). See, in England, you have to pay a yearly license to watch television at the same time it's being broadcast. This is what subsidizes the BBC, and the current fee is £174.50 for a color license, £58.50 for black and white. It doesn't matter if you watch the BBC or not, or even if you like it; you pay to keep it going. Remember that the next time you're tempted to complain about commercial television. There are, however, no complaints about this week's lineup, however.

Twin Peaks: The Return was one of the most astonishing, confusing, and maddening series to air on television since  The Prisoner, maybe? Apparently, David Lynch wasn't happy with how it was mixed for TV, and so he created one for theaters. Now, it's about to hit the big screen in New York City. I wonder if it will ever make it out here to real America?

My favorite musical of all time is 1776, partially, I suspect, because it has less music in it than almost any musical ever to make it to Broadway. It's the story of the writing of the Declaration of Independence, one of the greatest adventures in human history, and at Captain Video, we see an animated Congress, thanks to a comic book adaptation of the story that captures things quite well.

Returing to British TV, at Cult TV Blog, John writes about "Welcome Home," an episode of the British series Out of the Unknown, that's part mystery, part science fiction. When you get to the heart of the mystery, it proves to be quite intriguing.

At Comfort TV, David takes time to remember some of the major figures who've recently departed, as well as one who, thankfully, is still around: the deaths of Rick Hurst, Lalo Schifrin, Bobby Sherman, and Bill Moyers; and the 100th birthday of June Lockhart. All part of my TV memories, needless to say.

Bob Crane: Life & Legacy is in a reflective mood as well, with June 29 marking the anniversary of Bob Crane's murder, still (and destined to be, apparently) unsolved. Included is a message that serves us well as to how we should view the eternal struggle against the human condition.

At Classic Film & TV Cafe, Rick reviews the two Tony Rome detective movies made by Frank Sinatra. Now, I like Frank, and I like detective movies, so these are both watchable enough, but you get the distinct impression they could have and should have been better.

Paul's latest review at Drunk TV is of season five of Mister Ed, one of those concept sitcoms that managed to transcend the concept and provide entertainment that was genuinely funny on its own. And if that wasn't enough, you get a double dose of Paul this week: at Mavis Movie Madness, he shares his observations on making it all the way through NBC's fabled daytime drama The Doctors, one of those rare soaps that exists virtually in its entirety, except for 290 episodes. That's out of 20 years, folks.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence looks at a landmark 1973 episode of Medical Center, starring Lois Nettleton as a lesbian doctor. It's frank, unspectacular, and one of the first television episodes to present a homosexual character as "a healthy, well-adjusted human being."

At Television Obscurities, Robert celebrates his annual Lost TV Day with links to some fascinating stories about lost episodes, audio recordings, and more. I have a couple of stories regarding lost episodes myself, ones that I encountered while writing Darkness in Primetime, that I'll share here one day. Suffice it to say, once again, that the television industry has been very sloppy in preserving its own history.

And finally, over at Eventually Supertrain, I join Dan for our latest discussion on Garrison's Gorillas. I can personally recommend that, but make sure you make time for Ghosted and Bronk as well.

If you're reading this on Friday and you live in the United States, I hope you're enjoying the Independence Day holiday, and that you don't lose any limbs with your fireworks! If you're reading this over the weekend or next week, I'll assume you survived in one piece. TV  

The cat's meow (literally)

What with this being a holiday week and all, including a three-day weekend (although when you're retired, every week is a holiday week, and every day is a weekend) it seems that we could use something a little more lighthearted around here, and when you can combine cats and television, it's that much better.

My friend Daralyn Kelleher makes pet furniture, and in the video below, she shows us a very cool project: making a mini-Simpsons living room for her cats! It's not only a tribute to the show, it's a delightfully whimsical project, yet perfectly practical at the same time. Can't you imagine this in your home?

(That's Henry the one-eyed rescue cat in the animated picture up there, by the way; he's always winking at you.) When she told me about this project, I became determined to share it with you all once it was finished; I think you'll all agree this is one of the most creative things you'll see this year! 

You can find out more about this and her other furniture at her YouTube channel, Daralyn Makes Pet Sofas, or at her Instagram page. Check it out when you have a moment! TV