Showing posts with label Angie Dickinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Angie Dickinson. Show all posts

April 15, 2023

This week in TV Guide: April 13, 1968




It's time once again for a visit from our favorite television tech expert, TV Guide's  David Lachenbruch. We're used to his articles every fall, when he gives us a preview of the new model televisions for the coming year, but this week David is really looking ahead, to the future of television technology over the next 20 or so years.

We're in the 21st year of American television, and during that time more than 140 million sets have been manufactured, and "no other institution or industry in our history has achieved so much growth or so much influence in so short a time." For all that, though, "remarkable and revolutionary changes" are on the way, changes that will transform your TV from an appliance housed as an attractive piece of furniture to a "system," an "electronic-communication center that touches on almost every phase of your daily life." And since his future is our past, we're able to see just how accurate his predictions were.

For example, in five years (1973), you'll be able to take advantage of the Home Video Recorder (HVR), which we'll come to know and love as the VCR. This gizmo, which will cost less than $500, will allow you to record and replay your favorite shows, watch pre-recorded movies and other programming that you can buy or rent at the store, and make and show home movies, courtesy of a midget camera included with the HVR. You'll also have more television than ever to choose from, thanks to cable TV; it's already in use in over two million homes, but by 1973 your wired system should provide you with "20 or 25 channels, including the regular on-the-air stations." You'll be able to see everything from 24-hour weather to local city council meetings to "Teleshop" —where you can shop for clothes, toys, or groceries and then place your order by phone. On the technology side, tiny integrated circuits mean large-screen sets will be reduced in size by about a third, and you'll rarely have to adjust your picture.

In ten years (1978), your television will be able to receive faxes; your list of reading material (books, magazines, newspapers) will print overnight and be ready for you to read the next morning. Your picture tube will now be so thin that you'll be able to hang it on your wall "in an attractive furniture frame," and every room in your house will be wired with closed-circuit cameras so you can monitor your baby or see who's at the door. There will be pocket-sized portable TVs, operaing without batteries or line cords, " 'stealing' power through the air from near-by TV or radio stations." We'll even be able to view live color TV from the moon, although "It's not clear whether the commentary will be in English or Russian." 

Fifteen years (1983) will bring a change in the aspect ratio of your screen to that of movie theaters. You'll have a sharper picture as well, "as the result of a switch from the present 525 horizontal TV lines to 1000 or more, vastling increasing the resolution of the picture." You'll be able to use push buttons to teleshop (instead of ordering on your phone), take telecourses, and maybe even vote in elections. And you may be able to use your television to see the person you're talking to on the phone; a small screen will be built into your telephone for more private conversations.

Why are they sitting so close to the screen?
As television enters the 1990s, your flat screen will display pictures "virtually life-size and in realistic depth, without the need for special viewing eyeglasses." You'll be connected to a nationwide computer grid that will allow you to acces just about anything you want, 24 hours a day—you'll be able to "solve math problems, tell you your bank balance, help junior with his homework, look up recipes, make travel reservations, map out auto routes (and supply you with instructions for the exact setting of your autopilot) and perform a wide variety of other services." There will be "Telegames," video games you can play against the computer, with results shown on your screen. Transponders sewn into your children's clothes will allow you to track them wherever they might be in the neighborhood. 

And so on. As you can see, Lachenbruch's predictions are remarkably accurate. Not all of it came via the TV, of course; the home computer really became the hub of the telecommunications revolution, and many of the achievements that Lachenbruch mentions actually come from your mobile phone. But the flat screen hanging on the wall? The high-resolution picture? VCRs, DVRs, wireless communcation, home shopping channels? Distance learning? Absolutely! He's even a little behind the curve on some things; those color TV images from the moon, for instance, actually came in 1969 on Apollo 12 (that is, before the camera was ruined by accidentally pointing it at the sun). 

In fact, if there's anything he didn't anticipate, it's that television would become irrelevant to so many people, although it's taken much longer for that to happen. Who would think that speciality cable stations, for instance—one of the achievements predicted since the 1950s—would come and go, pushed out by the medium's insatiable desire for profit? Or that the traditional television network would be replaced by on-demand programming, streaming, and video games? Could he have even anticipated the "cutting the cord" movement? Or that most of us would carry our entertainment around with us in our pockets? Maybe only insane minds could have come up with that; after all, the whole world seems pretty crazy from our perspective today.

l  l  l

After eight seasons as Dr. Alex Stone, the "foil and kindly domestic mediator" of The Donna Reed Show, Carl Betz must have jumped at the chance to play a role with some real weight to it, that of the high-profile, high-octane defense attorney Clinton Judd, on Judd for the Defense. As Betz sat, "slightly numb," in executive producer Paul Monash's office, "I realized he was serious, but I kept wondering, 'Why me?' I knew there must be others they wanted. Then Paul said, 'You might be just the man,' and I heard myself say, 'You’re damn right.' "

As Michael Fessier Jr. notes in this week's profile, Betz was not the first choice of ABC; they were thinking more along the lines of Chuck Connors or Martin Landeau. But Connors would have demanded part ownershihp of the show. and besides, he'd already failed once as a defense attorney, in Arrest and Trial, only four years ago. (Although to be fair, a lot of that was the fault of the show's premise.) Meanwhile, Landeau has busy as Rollin Hand on Mission: Impossible, although he would have been an interesting choice. But Monash prides himself on his casting acumen, and personally, I can't imagine anyone better for the role that Carl Betz. He plays Judd with the intensity of a man finally getting a chance to show what he can do; says soundman Jerry Kosloff, "Carl really lives the part. He has worked his tail off. He has a lot riding on this show." 

For too long, Betz had been stuck in the kind of roles that didn't require him to flex his muscles—"three crummy Westerns," as he describes his days at Fox, and a long stint on Love of Life—culminating in his eight years as Dr. Alex Stone. And he won't put down those years on Donna Reed; "I miss the fun we used to have," he tells Fessier, but admits, "after eight years you run out of material." It left him all feeling that "The goal in an actor's mind can be a great illusion." Between seasons of the Reed show, though, he'd done "some heavyweight drama" in local theater—plays like "Night of the Iguana" and "Krapp’s Last Tape." Monash had seen those performances and liked them, and, when it came time to cast Judd, he remembered them. Betz imbues a gravity and dignity to a role that could easily become preachy and strident; and wears Judd's Western hat and string tie with an easy confidence. He's become a smash critically, often getting better reviews than the show itself, and he'll wind up with an Emmy for best actor in a drama.

Betz admits he's an Anglophile; his greatest acting admiration is for the English theater and actors like Paul Scofield. Don't get the idea that he's putting down "lowbrow" shows, though. "There is a place for The Flying Nun and The Donna Reed Show," he says, "and a place for shows like Judd and The Defenders." Nerves are flying high on the Judd set right now, as everyone waits for word from the network as to whether or not the show's going to get picked up for a second season; as everyone acknowledges, Betz has puat everything on the line for this show. It's rallied from the bottom of the ratings to a place in the low 30s, and Monash's emphasis on current issues (race, rape, sex) helps. It will only run two seasons; both the series and Betz deserve more. One contemporary critic has remarked that had Betz not died at the young age of 56, he might in time have pulled a Brian Cranston, evolving in the public mind from sitcom characters to being seen primarily in dramatic roles. As far as I'm concerned, though, Carl Betz has nothing left to prove.

l  l  l

That takes care of our cover stories, so let's see what's on the tube this week. Anything?

The first of golf's major championships is on Saturday and Sunday; CBS carries third round coverage of the Masters Saturday at 2:00 p.m PT, while Sunday's coverage begins at 1:00 p.m. The tournment provides one of the strangest endings ever: British Open champion Roberto De Vicenzo appears at first to have tied Bob Goalby for the lead (which would have necessitated an 18-hole playoff on Monday), but he was found to have signed an incorrect scorecard, having failed to notice a mistake on the 17th hole (where he was marked down for a par rather than a birdie); and winds up one shot behind Goalby. I wouldn't call this a controversy; while some people feel the punishment was unduly harsh, the rules are the rules; De Vincenzo himself will tell reporters, "What a stupid I am" for the error; he blames neither the rules nor his playing partner, Tommy Aaron (who'd written down the wrong number), but instead takes sole responsibility, and wins many fans for his gracious acceptance of his fate. 

Sunday is Easter, and Duke Ellington takes the spotlight with a performance of his "Sacred Concert," filmed during the piece's premiere last January at the Episcopal Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine in New York. (8:00 a.m., CBS) There's no copy of this concert on YouTube, but you can see an excerpt of a subsequent performance from 1969 here. Opera stars Cesare Siepi and Judith Raskin appear in the Bell Telephone Hour's Easter special, "Going to Bethlehem" (6:30 p.m,. NBC); in this case, the Bethlehem is in Pennsylvania, home of the Bethlehem Bach Festival, and the centerpiece is Bach's epic Mass in B Minor. Meanwhile, ABC's Easter offering is a repeat of the 1953 drama The Robe (8:00 p.m.), with Richard Burton, Jean Simmons, and Victor Mature. The movie is known for being the first done in Cinemascope; Judith Crist calls it "relatively tasteful," but notes that its Cinemascope spectacle is mostly lost on the small screen.

On Monday, Nancy Sinatra hosts "Movin' with Nancy," a "fast-paced musical tour" (don't you just love those canned descriptions?) with daddy Frank, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Lee Hazlewood. (9:00 p.m., NBC) The ad tells us that this special won Nancy the coveted "Hollywood Star of Tomorrow" award; and while I might have thought it was due more to her last name, who am I to disagree? At 9:30 p.m., in a sign of things to come, NET Journal shows highlights of Canada's Liberal Party Leadership Convention, in which party members come together to select a new party leader; since the Liberals control Parliament, this means the new party leader will become Prime Minister. The three leading contenders are External Affairs Minister Paul Martin, Justice Minister Pierre Trudeau, and Transport Minister Paul Hellyer. Trudeau, the winner, will go on to become one of the most prominent and colorful leaders on the world scene. 

Tuesday's Jerry Lewis Show features a stellar cast, with Count Basie and his orchestra and Mel Torme providing the entertainment. (8:00 p.m., NBC) At 9:30 p.m., David Susskind's Open End (9:00 p.m., KQED) takes on three subjects you'll rarely see discussed on the same show: comedian Ronny Graham, who was jailed for refusing to pay alimony, discusses the unfairness of the system; Gore Vidal, author of Myra Breckenridge, and Fr. Morton Hill debate censorship; and there's a discussion on astrology. Next, Harry Reasoner profiles a true Renaissance man: Gordon Parks. (10:00 p.m., CBS) Parks is considered one of the greatest photographers of all time, frequently looking at the plight of American blacks, but in his spare time he also directed Shaft and Shaft's Big Score with Richard Roundtree; composed classical music and ballets; wrote books on photography, plus poetry, novels, and three momoirs; and helped found Essence magazine. What have you done since you got up  this morning?

On Wednesday afternoon we'll see one of Jack Nicholson's early cult classics, The Terror (3:30 p.m., KSBW), with Boris Karloff and Sandra Knight. Karloff is the real star, and portions of the movie wound up in Peter Bogdanovich's movie Targets. The story of the making of the movie is probably more interesting than the movie itself; I'm surprised it's never been made into a movie. Later on, it's a rerun of Julie Andrews' Peabody-and Emmy-winning 1965 special, where she's joined by Gene Kelly and the New Christy Minstrels (9:00 p.m., NBC). If you don't want music, give a second go to the 1967 telemovie The Desperate Hours, one of David Susskind's video remakes of classic movies (9:00 p.m., ABC); in this version, Arthur Hill and Teresa Wright are the Hilliards, whose lives are upended by a home invasion by three escaped convicts: George Segal (in the Humphrey Bogart role), Michael Conrad, and Barry Primus. And if that doesn't work, switch over to NET at 10:00 p.m., where Julia Child takes us behind the scenes at a White House state dinner.

You'll recall—I'm sure of it—a while back, when we looked at The Tunnel, the true story of a group digging a tunnel from East to West Berlin to aid refugees escaping the Communists. Well, as proof that truth can be more engaging than fiction, there's Thursday night's movie Escape from East Berlin (Thursday, 9:00 p.m., NBC), based more or less on the true story (and made in the same year as The Tunnel), with Don Murray and Christine Kaufmann engineering the escape, and Werner Klemperer as Colonel Klink—I'm just kidding; he actually plays Walter Brunner, one of those working on the tunnel. Says Judith Crist, the authentic locales lend "enough interest, perhaps, to make one overlook the obvious mechanics of characters, dialog and bits of business."

That brings us to Friday, when not much happens No, I'm kidding again; this has been a week with not one, not two, but three documentaries connected to the ocean. Monday, Search in the Deep saw Jacques Cousteau use new research submarines to record the life cycle of the great sea turtle, and on Tuesday National Geographic looked at Portugal's Men of the Sea, harvesting the North Atlantic cod. Tonight, we have the third part of the trilogy, as NBC's Tomorrow's World explores "Man and the Sea" (10:00 p.m.), with Frank McGee reporting on the latest scientific developments regarding "Earth’s greatest source of food, minerals and energy." To say that these shows are all wet would be a cheap joke (as well as perhaps inaccurate), so I'm not going to make it.

l  l  l

Next up in the cultural zeitgeist: the kids "proud to be happies, not hippies."

Milton C. Anderson is not the last angry man, but there is one thing that burns him up: the way the youth of America are being portrayed in the Sixties. "The picture of young America—in the papers, on television—was something completely different from what I saw every day at school," he says. "And what was true in ’61 is even more true today." So instead of "tune in, turn on, drop out," he came up with "drop in, tune up and turn on" to a group of young people, all high school or college students, who are "all cleanliness, friendliness and Sunday-school manners." Thus were born the Young Americans, using their clean-cut, flag-waving song and dance to spread, according to their motto, "Understanding of people through youth and music."

Anderson reviews with Judith Jobin the process by which the group is formed: from the thousands of applications he receives, he selects 86 studients, from which a core of 36 perform most frequently. Those chosen have to be performers, of course, with "large doses of talent," but more important, "they must be Good People. Good People are people who aren’t all wrapped up in themselves but have thoughts and feelings for others."

Since their first appearance on a Bing Crosby special in the early 1960s, the Young Americans appear to have struck a chord with a public "increasingly discomfited and unnerved by rampant 'naysaying' among the country’s youth." Just ask Alex Grasshoff, the director of a documentary about the group: "They generate a fantastic emotional level. When I first saw them, I started to get a lump in my throat." Members of the group ("Unashamed Pollyannas all") talk about how "Talking out differences is the only way to world peace," and despite the upheaval in the world, they try to remain apart from it. "We talk about school, we worry about getting drafted," one says. "Well, we don’t talk about the Government—we’'re not politically inclined." 

Not everyone is a fan of the Young Americans; "it’s hard to ignore the fact that other young musicians—Dylan and Donovan, the Beatles and Buffy Sainte-Marie, to name a few—are doing songs that 'tell it like it is' ", while the Young Americans sing show tunes and upbeat songs with lyrics like "We’ve got the road ahead of us . . ." and “We’ve got the future in our hands . . ." One member of the group acknowledges that "It does get kind of cutesy-cutesy at times," and that cutting out references to smoking and drinking, and words like "damn" is "not too realistic." For all that, though, the Young Americans are a close-knit group; members must leave when they reach 21, and "Nobody ever wants to leave. All your friends are inside the group." And, more than 60 years later, they continue to perform and tour, "inspiring the world through music." 

l  l  l

Fashion layouts usually go over well, so I'd be remiss in not including this one with Angie Dickinson. Here, she's showing off the spring collection for TIffeau & Busch; designer Jacques Tiffeau "likes hippie bells, colored sandals and short, curly hair with his clothes—and we couldn't agree more."


The outfits swing for sure. But Ang, that hair—it looks like someone stuck your finger in a light socket.

l  l  l

Finally, a quick look behind the scenes at what goes into "This Week in TV Guide."  

Some issues are chosen for a specific reason—a story in the issue, or a particular program on at the time. The majority, though, are picked more or less at random, depending on what might be available for a given week. For instance, I was going to do an issue from 1954 this week, but considering the last issue from the '50s didn't get much of a response, I though you all might prefer something more recent, so I looked through the issues that fit the week, and chose this one, for no particular reason. 

We come to The Doan Report, and the headline: "How TV Covered Dr. King's Death." 

The turnaround time is impressive, cosidering the assassination happened on Thursday, April 4, just a week before this issue landed on newsstands. That day, news of King's shooting reached most viewers during the evening news; announcement of his death came about an hour later. Cameras switched back and forth: to Washington, where President Johnson and Vice President Humphrey expressed their shock; to Atlanta, where Coretta Scott King was. to Memphis, the scene of the crime. NBC cancelled Dragnet at 9:30 p.m. ET for a special report; ABC was on at 10:00 p.m. for an hour, and later Joey Bishop devoted his entire late-night show to King tributes. (Although it's not mentioned here, Johnny Carson skipped his monologue the following night, instead using the time to talk about King, who'd been a guest two months earlier,) CBS had an 80-minute summary at 11:00 p.m. Coverage continues next week, including the funeral, which forces the rescheduling of the Academy Awards. 

In a couple of months you'll be reading from the issue of June 15, 1968; I was looking through it recently, doing some preliminary scouting for items of interest, and saw the following headline, again from The Doan Report: "How TV Saw the Assassination." He's speaking this time, of course, about Robert F. Kennedy; a virtually identical headline, only with different names, but death casts the same odor. 

In the issue of April 20, following up on the King story, Doan says that King's assassination "pre-empted TV’s attention as had nothing since the assassination of President Kennedy." Just wait, though; you'll have another opportinity a couple of months later. TV  

July 2, 2022

This week in TV Guide: June 30, 1956




I think it's appropriate, for reasons which will quickly become apparent, that we start right in with our look at Sullivan vs. Allen, the Sunday night showdown between Ed Sullivan and his NBC rival, Steve Allen.

Sullivan: Ed salutes producer-director John Huston tonight. Heading the list of Hollywood stars who have worked with Huston is Gregory Peck, star of the new film Moby Dick. Huston's career is shown through film clips of this and other motion pictures, and personal appearances by Peck, Jose Ferrer, Orson Welles, Lauren Bacall, Edward G. Robinson, Burl Ives, Peter Lorre and Mary Astor. A special sketch will be done by $64,000 Challenge winners Vincent Price and Billy Pearson. Price has acted in several of Huston's films and Pearson has worked as a jockey for the director and will soon appear in one of his films.

Allen: Steve's guests include singing star Elvis Presley, comedienne Imogene Coca, comedian Andy "No Time for Sergeants" Griffith, vocalists Eydie Gorme and Steve Lawrence and, in a special remote from the Berkshire Music Festival in Lenox, Mass., Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong and his band.

Do you have it figured out? Elvis Presley first appeared with Ed Sullivan on September 9, 1956, so this might be thought of as "Elvis before Elvis." And yet Presley was no newcomer to television, having appeared several times on the Dorsey Brothers' Stage Show, as well as the Milton Berle Show. In fact, it was the Berle appearance on June 6, with his controversial "bump and grind" version of "Hound Dog," that set the stage for the Allen show. Allen knew that Elvis meant ratings, which he needed for his battle with Sullivan (a friendly one, unlike many of the feuds that Ed found himself in), but he also wanted to make sure that he wouldn't wind up with a brouhaha similar to what had happened with Berle. 

The result, as documented here, was—different. Allen's "comedic concept of presenting low culture in a high-culture setting," as Presley biographer Peter Guralnick put it, was having Presley sing the song to a basset hound, an emasculation that will surely live in television infamy. It was a brilliant masterstroke for Allen, who with one stroke not only defused the Presley controversy, but trounced Sullivan, 20.2 to 14.8 in the Trendex ratings. Presley was humiliated by the spectacle; Priscilla said that after the experience, "he didn't like Steve Allen at all." The show lives in its entirety; you can see it here.

Presley's fans were aghast; record producer John Landau, 14 when the show aired, said that "As a child, I was deeply offended. There was something wrong there. "Elvis, why you letting them do that to you?" Newsweek columnist John Lardner, defending Presley, said that "Allen’s ethics were questionable from the start. He fouled Presley, a fair-minded judge would say, by dressing him like a corpse, in white tie and tails. This is a costume often seen on star performers at funerals, but only when the deceased has specifically requested it in his will. Elvis made no such request—or for that matter, no will. He was framed."

Ed Sullivan would have the last laugh, though. While Allen was hoping for more appearances, Sullivan was on the phone to Colonel Tom Parker the next morning. As Allen recounted, Sullivan "offered him $50,000 to make, I don’t know, three or four appearances on Ed’s show. Our top then was what the top price throughout television was, $7,500 a week, and I wasn’t interested in paying anyone any more than that. So by this bold stroke, Ed simply took Elvis away from us."

I suppose you'd say that with all this, Steverino should be a runaway winner for the week, but not so fast: with his all-star cast paying tribute to John Hustson (Sullivan did several such shows over the years commemorating various stars or events), Ed takes second place to nobody. Therefore, the only verdict this week is Push.

l  l  l

It would make the perfect American Express card commercial: Do you know me? I was a star on Police Woman, and before that I was a "dangling participle" with Frank and the Rat Pack. I've acted with the Duke and Dino, Lee Marvin and Gregory Peck and Ronald Reagan, and nobody will forget my performance in Dressed to Kill. I was married to Burt Bacharach, and I've been called one of the world's sexiest women. But all that was after I became a honey blonde. Do you recognize me as a natural brunette? 

Such is the life and times of Angie Dickinson, who in 1956 is a 23-year-old up-and-comer, a "girl who had not yet become a 'name,' but who, at the same time, was not a bright-eyed novice." Starting last October, she agreed to keep a diary for TV Guide "of the shows she worked, the shows she had to turn down, the shows she missed, the money she made and the money she had to spend."

Between October and mid-May, Angie did "five live shows, eight film shows, three movies, and three filmed commercials." She grossed just over $6,000 for the eight-month period, while her business expenses totaled $3,000, and her agent's fee amounted to another $600 (10 percent). Due to her success, her established fee for a live hour television show rose from $191 (union scale) to $600, and her film fee went from $500 a week to $750. Her agent can now demand "nothing but 'important featured roles'," and Angie calls it "an exceptional year." Her income in 1953 was under $4,000; by 1955 she grossed $13,000; and this year, with more roles to come, it should be close to $17,000.

For Angie Dickinson, it all starts in North Dakota where she was born. Then follows a move to Los Angeles with her family, and victory in a local TV show, Beauty Parade. She's chosen as one of six TVenus girls (remember this?), and it is on the Colgate Comedy Hour that she meets Jimmy Durante, the man who changes her life. "His love of show business just seemed to pour out of him and some of it rubbed off on me. All of a sudden I was a greenhorn just dying to get into it." 

Today she takes dramatic and singing lessons, trying to improve herself. "Whether or not Angie Dickinson will make the grade as a name player or even a star depends on a number of things, chiefly the breaks she gets—being at the right place at the right time under the right circumstances." "In a way," she says, "you make your own break just by being ready for it. I'm going to be ready." As we know, those breaks come, she's ready for them—perhaps becoming a honey blonde is part of being ready—and Angie Dickinson, unquestionably, becomes a star. Could there have been any doubt?

l  l  l

If there's a theme so far this week, it might be that of the up-and-coming star: Elvis, Angie, and now Paul Newman. On Tuesday, July 3, 1956, Somebody Up There Likes Me, the movie based on the life story of middleweight boxer Rocky Graziano, is released in theaters, with Newman starring as Graziano in the breakthrough role that starts Newman's road to stardom. Perhaps coincidentally, Newman is also starring in Tuesday's debut of The Kaiser Aluminum Hour (7:30 p.m. Ct, NBC). In "The Army Game," Newman plays Danny, a college jock who tries to avoid Army service by pretending to be a psychiatric case. In fact, he's so good at it that it makes one wonder if he's acting at all. 

Elizabeth Montgomery also makes an appearance in this issue, although she's not on anything this week. She's part of the repertory company put together by her dad, Robert Montgomery, for the summer session of his show, Robert Montgomery Presents. (Monday, 7:30 p.m., NBC). This week, three of her summer stock colleagues—Charles Drake, Jan Miner, and Tom Middleton—star in "Dream No More," a mystery about a con man with his eyes on someone else's money.

I suppose we could include Jim Davis; he features in this week's issue in the review of the Western series Stories of the Century, which runs in syndication, and while he's a familiar enough face in small, low-key roles in mostly Western series, it won't be until he assumes the role of Jock Ewing in Dallas that he reached fame, so much so that even though he died during season four of the series, he'll be an ongoing presence for the remainder of the show's run. 

Perry Mason, anyone?
Television series themselves shouldn't be left out; according to the Hollywood teletype, Dan Jenkins tells us that the "choice for the title role in the still unscheduled, unfilmed, hour-long Perry Mason series now lies between Raymond Burr and Robert Sterling." I know that William Hopper had tested for the role of Perry before being cast as Paul Drake, but I just can't see Sterling projecting the kind of gravitas that Burr has in the role. At any rate, Mason won't remain unaired for long, and I suspect it's been aired somewhere every day since.

And while the Summer Olympics aren't for another five months—they're being held in late November and early December in Melbourne—there are sure to be some future stars on display at the United States Olympic Track and Field Trials (Saturday, 3:00 p.m., NBC). A couple of names that jump out: Bob Richards, who wins his second consecutive gold medal in the pole vault and, two years later, will become the first athlete on the cover of the Wheaties box; meanwhile, sprinter Bobby Morrow takes gold in the 100- and 200-meter sprints and the 4x100 meter relay. As an aside, the basketball gold medal goes once again to the United States, and although the team was selected at another date, it is led by the young center from San Francisco, Bill Russell. He'd join the Celtics as a rookie following the Games.

l  l  l

"A priest, a minister and a rabbi walk into a television studio. . .  " Well, maybe this isn't exactly how the ABC religious series Crossroads works, but it makes for a good start. 

The last time I wrote about a religious television program, other than Life is Worth Living, it was, I believe, Fr. Elwood Kieser's Insight, a staple of Sunday morning television for more than twenty years. Perhaps Crossroads isn't quite as well remembered—it's hard for me to tell, since I dwell in the world of old TV Guides—but it's no less powerful. The show has just completed its first season on ABC, and after summer reruns, will be embarking on its second. Like so many successful programs, it almost didn't make it to TV; when it was brought to the attention of producer Bernard L. Schubert, he tried for weeks to come up with the right format and had all but given up on the idea, when his son came back from a boys' club meeting raving about a talk given by a Catholic priest (Bishop Sheen?) and Schubert decided to give it another try. 

The show's stories center around the situations that clergymen encounter in daily life—thus the three-man committee of a priest, a minister and a rabbi, who review story ideas to approve of their religious content. At first, they were concerned the show might be too melodramatic, but they were won over by the first story, in which a Catholic priest (Don Taylor) who'd gone to a prison to give last rites to a death-row inmate is held hostage by three prisoners, until the priest talks them into surrendering. "Since that first show was televised," Schubert said, "we've had no story problems."

Schubert also says that he's had no trouble getting name actors—Brian Aherne, J. Carrol Naish, Luther Adler, Gene Lockhart, Pat O'Brien, Arthur Franz and Ann Harding are among those who've appeared on the show—because, in contrast to the average clergyman in the Barry Fitzgerald age group, "it gives them a chance to portray a cleric while they're still young." And he and his researchers scan newspapers around the country looking for stories that fit the show's concept, that which was articulated by Rabbi William F. Rosenblum when he originally came up with the idea for the show about six years ago: "I wanted to show that we clergymen are not just people with folded hands, who deliver sermons once a week from our pulpits," he said. "I thought we could show. . . that the day-to-day crises that arise in their lives can be solved through prayer and through faith."

That picture on the left is of Brian Aherne, playing Fr. Anthony Kohlmann in episode two. Fr. Kohlmann, convinced a thief to return stolen goods when the man told him about it in Confession. He refused to disclose the thief's identity, and the proceedings resulted in the New York government recognizing the sanctity of the Seal of Confession. It's a right that's once again come under threat in recent years by governments both in the United States and around the world. I wonder who might portray the next Fr. Kohlmann? 

l  l  l

Finally, the answers you've been demanding to your burning questions: Why is it dangerous to handle a picture tube? Does it pay to repair my old television set or would it be better to purchase a new set? Can I use a wax to clean the glass on my television?

Back in the day, if something went wrong with your television, you didn't just run out and buy a new one. They were expensive, something you made payments on, and if it went out before you'd even finished paying it off, then you called the neighborhood repairman and had him come out and fix it. He might be able to do it there, if the repairs weren't too drastic, or he might have to take it in to the office, where he'd work on it there. Joseph F. Valenti, of Brooklyn is one of those repairmen, an expert in his field, and this week he's here to provide the answers to the questions you ask most often.

As it turns out, there's actually a formula you can use to determine whether you should get your set fixed or buy a new one. After adding up the amount you spend on repairs over the course of a full year, do you spend an average of at least 25 cents a day on repairs? If so, then your set is in "very poor condition" and should be replaced. On the other hand, if the amount is between 1 and 15 cents, both you and your set are in good shape.

Which reminds me of a story. . .
To answer your other questions, it's dangerous to lift your picture tube; a 24-inch tube has a vacuum of about 15 pounds per square inch, or about 8,700 pounds over the entire face. Not good if you drop it. And no, you shouldn't wax the glass on your tube; it will leave an oily film on the glass (no matter what the commercials say about waxy buildup on your kitchen floor), thus distorting your picture.

If this seems like too much fuss over an appliance, remember that television is a guest in your home, the most intimate form of entertainment media there is. You take good care of your family; wouldn't you want to take at least as good care of your TV?

l  l  l

Question: What do they call Independence Day in England? Answer: The Fourth of July, of course.

If you're reading this over the weekend, have a safe and restful holiday, and don't be afraid to celebrate a day that represents, or should represent, the fundamentals that make this nation great. Our city's fireworks display was last night, but depending on where you live, go out and see the red glare of a few rockets, and listen to some bombs bursting in air, and enjoy this Glorious Fourth. TV