This week in TV Guide: March 17, 1973

You probably don't recognize the name Robert Alan Aurthur; it stands out for me because he wrote two of the episodes that appear in my upcoming book. While he never attained the fame of, say, Rod Serling, Reginald Rose, or Paddy Chayefsky, he was one of television's more prolific playwrights, writer of more than 20 teleplays for Golden Age-anthology series such as Philco-Goodyear Playhouse, Studio One, and Playhouse 90. This week, in a new series of articles called "The Way It Was," Aurthur shares some memories of working in the early days of television, especially one particular script for Philco Playhouse.

We often hear that term, "Golden Age" bandied about — I used it up there myself. And Aurthur is among the first to say that not everything that aired during that era was great. "Only some were great. Some were terrible. Most were just OK. But in each and every one we aspired, quality limited only by individual ability." That's a pretty good way to describe the era, I think. Writers wanted to produce high-quality work, even when they didn't. And, Aurthur points out, everything in those early years of anthologies was live. No repeats, no do-overs, no pauses in the action. And speaking of action, there were "No shoot-outs or punch-ups to resolve hokey melodrama — and no cars. In some 30 hours of drama I never wrote an automobile scene, and except perhaps for a walk-on or bit I never wrote a part for a doctor, lawyer or cop." I don't think network television could survive today under those limitations.

To illustrate what it was like back in those days, Aurthur points to a 1955 Philco script called "A Man is Ten Feet Tall." You might have heard of that, even if you don't know (or remember) what it was about. The inspiration for the drama, Aurthur says, came from a trip to the movies he made with a fellow writer, where he saw Blackboard Jungle, starring a young Sidney Poitier. He was struck by Poitier's work, his presence on the screen; he was also depressed that an actor of such obviou talent had such limited opportunities, merely because of the color of his skin. He remembered a short story he wrote, some years past, which could be adapted into a television play that could serve as a vehicle for Poitier.

In those days, he says, "there were no committees to convince, no network officials to consult, no elaborate outlines to write." He had only to convince the producer, Gordon Duff, who gave it the go-ahead with one provision: he couldn't ever remember a black actor playing the lead in a television play. His suggestion: "Write it without describing the guy as a Negro. Then, after we cast Poitier, it'll be too late for anyone to complain." As events transpired, Philco was to be cancelled at the end of the season, concluding an eight-season run; it was decided that "A Man is Ten Feet Tall" would be the final production. (Remarkably, the kinescope exists; why not check it out here?)

Poitier and Aurthur on the set of The Lost Man  

Poitier's agent was onboard; the actor would be paid top dollar for the show, $1,000. Philco was no problem; they were only "moderately nervous" about the play. The problem turned out to be NBC — they were nervous that Poitier had once been on the blacklist, and was therefore unacceptable. Duff was outraged, and demanded a meeting with network officials and Poitier. Aurthur was not part of the meeting (Duff was "afraid I'd punch a lawyer"), but Poitier appeared, with great reluctance. Questioned about his relationship with Canada Lee, a black actor and activist, with whom Poitier had worked in South Africa in Cry, the Beloved Country. As Poitier recalled how they were allowed in the country only as indentured servants to the film's producer, he broke down crying, and fled the room. 

Aurthur informed the network that if there were any further questions about politics, he and Duff would notify the newspapers of the story. The network readily agreed that if he could talk Poitier into accepting the role, there would be no more questions. After a great deal of persuasion, he finally agreed to take the role, for $2,000. "A little revenge for Sid, cheap enough for us." Aurthur was kept busy with rewrites right up until the time of broadcast. It was a huge success; Aurthur recounts receiving more than 1,100 cards, letters, and telegrams in praise of the play; it wound up winning seven awards. On the flip side, two Southern newspapers called Aurthur a Communist, six Philco distributors threatened to cancel their franchises, and 6,000 people signed a petition saying they'd never watch the show again. Of course, since this was the last episode, it was a hollow threat.

That says a lot about what television, and American culture, was like in 1955. It's an example of one of the prime reasons this blog exists — to illustrate how much we can learn about America through television; not just racial issues, but so many other things as well. As for the power of TV, Aurthur concludes with what he called "the most thrilling moment," which came the night after the show aired. He received a phone call about 8 p.m. from Poitier, calling from a Harlem drugstore. He'd ducked in there to get some space from a mob who'd seen the play and wanted to tell him how much they'd liked it. "Listen to them," he shouted. "They're right outside the booth." He told the fans, "I'm talking to the guy who wrote it. Tell him what yiou think." Aurthur could hear loud cheering on the other end of the line. "Sidney laughed, and then he said, "Hey babe, I'm glad we did it." 

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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. 

A Touch of Grace, ABC's new sitcom, is graced, if you will, with two exceptional actors: Shirley Booth, "who can be counted on always to special-deliver" her lines; and J. Pat O'Malley, so fine an actor that "he can make something of nothing." Unfortunately, as Cleveland Amory found out, nothing is plentiful in this lame knockoff of the British series For the Love of Ada, and that begins with anyone in the cast who isn't name Booth or O'Malley.  

The premise finds Grace Simpson (Booth), living with her daughter and son-in-law, played by Marian Mercer and Warren Berlinger, who — for comic effect, we assume — are "so square they are less funny than pathethic." Berlinger is Walter, a hen-pecked husband who works at a supermarket "and is always taking about things like celery and radishes — which the writers think should be funny," while the status-conscious Myra mother-hens her mother by "always worrying about Grace's beau (Herbert, played by O'Malley) not being a gentleman." Grace, of course, is the complete opposite, sprightly and full of fun. O'Malley's punchline is that he works as a gravedigger, and he makes the most of it, especially in his readings of headstone incriptions; he is, says Cleve, "a riot."

The problem, as we've seen, is that Booth and O'Malley have nothing to work with. The plots are what belong in the graveyard, posits Amory; "If it's possible to base a whole episode on what is a tasteless idea to begin with, these writers will do it." One plot dealt with Grace giving Herbert her late husband's suit and watch, outraging Myra; another week will center on Herbert wanting to take Grace on a trip to Sausalito, outraging Myra; a third features Grace, wanting to show she can still support herself, getting a job as a ladies'-room attendant, outraging Myra. Well, you get the idea. Never far from the surface, Amory complains, are "Two Basic Jokes": one, that old people having sex is funny; and two, that Grace's life is unfulfilled because she's not yet a grandmother. If anyone can make these work, it's Booth and O'Malley, but too often "it makes you feel fabuely uncomfortable, if not downright annoyed." On the heels of All in the Family and Sanford and Son, the producers must have thought another American adaptation of a British sitcom would be a similar hit; 13 episodes later, they found out otherwise. Television, Cleve says, has plenty of room for a seniors' sitcom, but "this isn't it." 

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I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but Hollywood studios have been hit by a movie and TV writers' strike. (Imagine that.) According to Richard K. Doan, Writers Guild members are predicting the strike (the first one since the five-month long strike in 1960) could last for weeks, or even months; the networks are already foreseeing "utter chaos" with the fall season. Up to now, there had been general agreement that the new season would begin on September 10, but that's all in flux. What appears to be more certain is that some "tryout" shows planned for the summer may have to be shelved. In the event, the strike lasts for 111 days; it doesn't have a catastrophic effect; ten weeks in, more than 150 independent producers (comprising more than 50 percent of primetime television) have signed the new contract, with the boycott pared back to just the major studios.

Elsewhere in The Doan Report, Broadway producer Joseph Papp is engaged in a bitter dispute with CBS over a postponement of the planned March 9 presentation of Sticks and Bones, an antiwar drama about a blind Vietnam veteran's unhappy homecoming. According to the network, 69 of 184 affiliates had already refused to air the movie after having viewed a preview showing; the network suggested it might reschedule after the POW homecomings. Papp replied that it was a "cowardly cop-out" and threatened to renege on his four-year contract with the network. Sticks and Bones does eventually air later in the year, with 94 affiliates refusing to show it (in eight cities, it was carried by non-CBS affiliates). I wrote about this a couple of years ago; in the key quote, "One CBS insider, who said that the show was 'not even good drama,' guessed that 'the tune-out in the first half hour must have been astronomical.' " 

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It's that time of the year, when pilots come out of hibernation and vie for a coveted spot on the fall network schedule, and Saturday sees a pair of "world premiere" presentations on NBC, beginning with The Magician (8:00 p.m. ET), starring Bill Bixby as a magician who uses his art to help others. That one does make the fall lineup; the same can't be said for Jarrett (9:30 p.m.), a tongue-in-cheek detective series starring Glenn Ford as a P.I. specializing in fine-arts cases. Did the network make the right decisions? Check them out for yourself and see.

Buckley interviewing Smith on Firing Line

On Sunday, Bob Cromie's Book Beat (7:30 p.m, PBS) features convicted murderer Edgar Smith, author of Getting Out, the story of his 15-year quest for freedom that ended with his release in 1971. Actually, I should describe it this way: Edgar Smith, the convicted murderer who duped William F. Buckley Jr. into believing his story that he was an innocent man wrongly convicted. Smith had been found guilty and sentenced to death for the 1957 murder of a 15-year-old girl. While on death row, he started a correspondence with Buckley, who, convinced of Smith's innocence, financed a legal team to advocate for Smith's innocence. His conviction was overturned, and in a plea bargan deal he pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in return for being released for time served. In 1976, Smith kidnapped and murdered a 33-year-old woman. Smith called Buckley for help, but Buckley, realizing he'd been wrong, instead called the FBI and Smith was arrested and convicted of murder, confessing in prison that he had, in fact, committed the 1957 murder as well. He was sentenced to life, and died in prison in 2017. 

A CBS News Special on Monday looks at a prime example of how some things never change; "The Long War" between Congress and the Presidency over issues such as war decisions and spending authority. (10:00 p.m.) If this sounds familiar, it's because this is a conflict that dates back to the nation's birth. Since this is only a one-hour report, reporters Dan Rather and Roger Mudd are limited to looking back at conflicts between Congress and Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon, but if you think what we're seeing today is new, you've got another think coming.

Another pilot made good can be seen on Tuesday, in the movie The Police Story (8:00 p.m., NBC), with Vic Morrow starring as a tough cop working on a team set up to crash crimes as they're being committed. Chuck Connors is the chief bad guy, and the supporting cast includes Ed Asner, Harry Guardino, and Diane Baker; minus the article in the title, the anthology series debuts in the fall as Police Story. And speaking of criminals, the made-for-TV movie Beg, Borrow . . . Or Steal (8:30 p.m, ABC) featuers some nice stunt casting, with Mike Connors of Mannix, Michael Cole of The Mod Squad, and Kent McCord of Adam-12 as three man planning a museum robbery. Hmm; I wonder if this fine-art robbery will be investigated by Glenn Ford?

Another successful pilot! On Wednesday, Tony Musante stars as Toma, based on the real-life story of a detective who uses his talent for disguise to infiltrate a gambling ring. (8:30 p.m., ABC) In one of the more famous examples of such, Musante quits the series after one season, saying that he had never intended to do the series any longer than that; despite entreaties from the network, including an offer to convert Toma into a series of occasional specials, Musante sticks to his guns, and Toma eventurally morphs into Baretta, starring Robert Blake. Following that, Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law (10:00 p.m., ABC) gives us an prime example of how legal dramas of the 1970s are handling more controversial, contemporary issues: "Lesbian seduction is the charge as Marshall defends a diving champion accused of seducing a teen-age girl." You're not going to see that on Perry Mason!

Thursday's highlight comes from the world of syndicated repeats, as The Twilight Zone (9:30 p.m., Channel 27) airs the classic episode "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," with William Shatner hamming it up as the man convinced he sees a creature on the wing of an airliner; the way Shatner chews the scenery, I'm surprised the plane had any wings left. Elsewhere, Jimmy Stewart and Frank Sinatra Jr. are the guests on The Dean Martin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), with one of the highlights being a skit in which Jimmy and Dean report being robbed by a gang of nudists. 

Greg and Marcia stage a knife fight to the death for an attic bedroom that ends in tragedy for The Brady Bunch. (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC) Actually, I'm exaggerating a bit about the storyline—can you tell I'm getting bored here?—but you have to admit that this sounds a little more exciting, doesn't it? And CBS has a failed pilot, Gene Roddenberry's Genesis II, as its Friday night movie. (9:30 p.m.) Better to go for The Bobby Darin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), with Bobby's guests Sid Caesar, Dusty Springfield, Jackie Joseph, and the a cappella soul group the Persuasions.

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This week's Eastern New England edition has a full-page ad for Chuck Scarborough, anchor of WNAC's 6:00 and 11:00 p.m. news. It's the first major-market anchor job for Scarborough, who joined WNAC last year, and in the two years he worked in Boston he took the station to first place in the ratings. From there, he moved on to WNBC, where he became co-anchor of the station's 6:00 and 11:00 news, in addition to doing occasional reports and prime-time updates, for the network.

I mention this all because last December, Chuck Scarborough retired from WNBC after 50 years as their anchorman. It was only in 2017 that he cut back his schedule to only working the 6:00 news; even then, he'd occasionally fill in at 11:00. (His anchor partner, Sue Simmons, had retired in 2012 after having worked with Scarborough since 1980.) When he retired, it was as the longest-serving anchorman in New York television history. Here, we get to see him in his early years, destined for greater things. But who knew the kind of career he'd have?

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MST3K alert: The Black Scorpion (1957) features excellent special effects by Willis O'Brien (King Kong). It's about mammoth man-eating creatures that terrorize Mexico City. Richard Denning, Mara Corday, Carlos Rivas. (Wednesday, 11:30 p.m., CBS) It's not often that we're graced with a review by Judith Crist, but it isn't often that an MST3K movie gets a network run, albeit in the late-night spot. It's "a 1957 sci-fi with creaky oversized bugs out to rule the world, staring in Mexico. They lose — but nobdy watching wins." She's right, of course, which is why it winds up on MST3K — and that means everybody wins. TV  

This week in TV Guide: May 1, 1965

If you're my age or a little older, and come next month I'll be a little older than my age now, you probably remember the two words: "Early Bird." Not as in "The early bird gets the worm," which was only useful when your mom was trying to get you up for school, but the Early Bird communications satellite, which presented equal parts interest for television fans and space enthusiasts alike.

Early Bird, formally known as the Intelsat I, is the world's first commercial communications satellite; it was launched on April 6 to provide a TV link between Europe and North America, and this Sunday it's ready to go online, with a live 60-minute broadcast on all three networks at 10:00 a.m. PT. The broadcast showcases, appropriately, several events utilizing new age technology: a heart-value operation performed in Houston by Dr. Michael DeBakey, shown live for an audience in Geneva, Switzerland, who were able to ask Dr. DeBakey questions in real time; the Chicago Cubs and Houston Astros warming up for their game in the new Houston Astrodome, which had just opened the previous week; astronaut Alan Shepard in training; a test of the Concorde supersonic jet engine in Britain; and a variety of musical presentations, including bands playing the same piece from five different cities.

Early Bird programming continues on Monday morning, as NBC's Today originates live from London (7:00 a.m.), where Hugh Downs moderates a discussion between Members of Parliament and congressmen in Washington, and Frank Blair reports the news. Meanwhile, Barbara Walters is in Paris coveraing a fashion show; Jack Lescoulie tours a children's village in Amsterdam; and Aline Sarrinen discusses early Roman architecture from Caroline Hill in the Eternal City. At noon, CBS presents the first live Town Meeting of the World, with a panel including Secretary of State Dean Rusk, former presidental candidate Barry Goldwater, and former British Prime Minister Sir Alec Douglas-Home, as they discuss Vietnam; the program will be repeated at 10:00 p.m. NBC's Chet Huntley broadcasts the Huntley-Brinkley Report from London, and Peter Jennings does the same with ABC's evening news. Huntley also joins BBC newsman Richard Dimbleby (who reports from New York) on Panorama (7:30 p.m., NBC) to discuss the stories they've covered during their long careers. All of these programs are live broadcasts which are shown on tape delay in the Pacific time zone, where this week's issue originates. 

Of course, we're used to this kind of thing today, but it was extraordinary back in 1965, and there was something exciting about seeing "live via Early Bird satellite" appear at the beginning of a broadcast. Initially, the networks were allowed free use of Early Bird, which resulteds in live coverage of all kinds of events, from the 24 Hours of Le Mans in June to the splashdown of Gemini 6 in December. (Of course, once Comsat announced their intention to start collecting fees for Early Bird's use, some of that extraneous coverage stopped) Early Bird had only 240 voice circuits, so it could only transmit one TV channel at a time. Soon there would be more satellites up there; Early Bird itself was only designed to operate for 18 months, but lasted until January 1969. It was reactivated that June for the Apollo 11 mission when another of the Intelsat satellites failed, and one last time in 1990 to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its launch. It's still up there, in case you ever get a chance to loook it up. 

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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 scheduled guests are comedians Sid Caesar and Nancy Walker, who appear in a sketch; the Rolling Stones, British rock ‘n’ rollers; songstress Leslie Uggams; comedienne Totie Fields; British singer Tom Jones; Morecambe and Wise, British comedy team; and contortionist Gitta Morelly.  

Palace: The host is jazzman Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong, who is saluted for his 50 years in show business and his role as a traveling goodwill ambassador. Actor Edward G. Robinson reads tributes from the President and the Senate, and other accolades are offered by guests Jimmy Durante, blues singer Diahann Carroll, comics Rowan and Martin and the Ballet Folklorico of Mexico.

Sometimes weekly lineups underwhelm. There's nothing wrong with that, it's just the way showbiz is; you can't have a superstar lineup each week. Ah, but this week, who ya gonna pick? Sid Caesar, the Stones, Tom Jones and others, or Satchmo, Eddie G., The Schnozzola, and a message from POTUS? You can't go wrong either way, but even though this isn't the infamous Stones appearance that got them banned from Sullivan, I think I have to give the nod to Ed. That's just my opinion, though—if you're not sure, you can see ten minutes of the Stones and Tom Jones from Sullivan, and you can compare that to  the Palace show and see what you think. 

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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. 

Every MST3K fan out there knows that Gypsy's hero is the one and only Richard Basehart. He's also the hero, or one of them, on the show in Cleveland Amory's bulls-eye this week: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. And guess what? He doesn't hate it! I know; that sounds like faint praise, but he says your children will love it and, more often than not, it will give you some escape. "And these days, that's not too bad, television fare being what it is."

Casting Basehart as Admiral Harriman Nelson was, I think, a stroke of genius; he was a familiar face from both television and the movies, and he projects a gravitas and dignity that is often missing from these kinds of shows. Amory finds him "admirable," [sic] and he plays the role straight, which, "considering the plots and dialog" isn't easy. David Hedison co-stars as Captain Lee Crane, and even though he was offered (and declined) the role of Crane in the original movie version, Amory finds him a less successful character—"possibly because, the way his role is written, he doesn't seem to have any." The remainder of the supporting cast, as well as many of the guest stars, fare better.

One episode in particular seems to have captured Cleve's fancy; it concerns a mission that Nelson and Crane leave the Seaview to undertake; they wind up on an island, where they encounter a mad scientist and a general from the People's Republic of China, back when it was still permissible to portray them as part of the evil empire. "Something is watching us," Nelson tells Crane, and sure enough—the mad scientist has been following their every move via closed-circuit television. "In fact," Amory notes, "from that time on, the entire episode turns out to turn on whether or not the boys are going to be able to turn off their own show." It sets up for a thrilling conclusion—but if you think you're going to read about it here, you're mistaken. Says Cleve, "if you think we’re going to spoil the summer rerun of this gem for you, we’re not."

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The first Saturday in May tells us it's time for the annual "Run for the Roses," and since this Saturday is May 1, it's off to Churchill Downs in Louisville for the 91st Kentucky Derby (2:00 p.m., CBS). This year's winner is one of the lesser-known Derby victors, Lucky Debonair; he was injured in the Preakness and didn't run in the Belmont. Saturday night, as is always the case in this television season, Jim Backus goes up against himself; he's the voice of Mr. Magoo (8:30 p.m., NBC), whose famous adventure this week is "Moby Dick"; he's also Thurston Howell III in Gilligan's Island (8:30 p.m., CBS). It's the only time in television history that the same actor has appeared on two different networks in two different shows scheduled against each other. And for late-night movie fans, there's a Ronald Reagan double feature; Hellcats of the Navy (11:20 p.m., KPIX) stars the Gipper and wife Nancy; while in The Winning Team (midnight, KTVU), he plays baseball star Grover Cleveland Alexander. Dutch also features in possibly his best-known role, that of Drake McHugh, the man whose legs are amputated, in Sunday's Kings Row (11:35 p.m., KTVU). His famous line from that movie, "Where's the rest of me?" will also be the title of Reagan's first autobiography.

During the mid-1960s, ABC featured a number of stars acting as tour guides of their native country; Elizabeth Taylor in London in 1963, Sophia Loren in Rome in 1964, and Inger Stevens in Sweden just this last February. Tonight, it's Melina Mercouri's Greece (9:00 p.m., ABC), "a fascinating hour with this glamorous star in her native land." That goes up against The American West (9:00 p.m., NBC), as Lorne Greene goes on location to tell the story of Ben Cartwright's native land, the Old West. Oh, and Tom Bosley plays a man claiming to be a leprechaun in Ben Casey (10:00 p.m., ABC). Coincidentally, there's also a leprechaun at the heart of the 1948 movie Luck of the Irish (11:00 p.m., KPIX); in this case, Cecil Kellaway is the leprechaun; he'd get an Oscar nomination for Supporting Actor for his performance. And it isn't even St. Patrick's Day—what are the odds?

Tuesday night is the farewell episode of That Was the Week That Was (9:30 p.m., NBC), which never caught on in this country the way its British counterpart did, even with the presence of David Frost. Nancy Ames, Buck Henry, and Pat Englund are also part of this final show; its replacement will be the anthology series Cloak of Mystery, "a series of rerun dramas."

Wednesday sees the premiere of Our Private World (9:30 p.m., CBS), a spin-off from As the World Turns, with Eileen Fulton reprising her role as Lisa Hughes. Don't know if you remember, but our very own Cleveland Amory shared his thoughts about the show in this issue. Airing on both Wednesday and Friday nights, Our Private World is CBS's attempt to compete with ABC's Peyton Place, but the ratings are apparently private as well; the series only lasts until September, berfore Lisa returns home. My, doesn't she look young here?

And here's a show we desperately need now: "The Solutions to all the World's Problems in 53 Minutes and 27 Seconds," this week's edition of The Open Mind (Friday, 9:00 p.m., KQED), with host Eric Goldmen's guests, cartoonist-satirist Jules Feiffer, author Marya Mannes (whom we're read in this space before), actor-comedian Milt Kamen, and author Paul Krassner.

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Following up on last month's cover story about Vince "Ben Casey" Edwards, Henry Harding reports this week that Sam Jaffe, who plays Casey's mentor Dr. Zorba, is leaving the series. There's no mention of Edwards in the story; Harding simply says that Jaffe "has long been bored with the role and eager to relinquish it," and quotes Jaffe as saying he's "So, so happy!" to be leaving. "Why not? I didn't have enough to do. It was like the Chinese water torture." Later on, we'll find out that Edwards' unprofessionalism played a large part in Jaffe's departure. 

That's not the only departure in this week's industry review. It's the last roundup for Eric Fleming, who's riding into the sunset on Rawhide, leaving Clint Eastwood to head up the show. Fleming is one of several regulars departing the series; Eastwood and Paul Brinegar (Wishbone) will be joined by some new characters for the coming season, which will be the series' last. 

Ever wonder what those stars do when their series ends? TV Teletype tells us that these stars of old TV series are soon to appear in new ones: Robert Conrad (Hawaiian Eye) heads for The Wild, Wild West; Edmond O'Brien (Sam Benedict) is in store for The Long, Hot Summer; Peter Brown (Lawman) stays in the west in The Streets of Laredo; and Richard Long (Bourbon Street Beat and 77 Sunset Strip) will be in The Big Valley with Barbara Stanwyck (The Barbara Stanwyck Show). But let's not forget Dennis James, "who has probably been on more panel shows than anybody," has been signed as host/emcee of a new one, Silent Partners. Unfortunately, it never makes it past the pilot.

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Finally, among the missing in action this week is Wendy and Me, the ABC-Warner Bros. sitcom starring Connie Stevens and George Burns, preempted this week for the aforementioned Melina Mercouri special. The show's charm, writes Richard Warren Lewis, is in its resemblance to the old Burns and Allen series, with Connie assuming the scatterbrain role of Gracie Allen. However, not all of the nation's viewers shares Lewis's assessment of the show; its ratings, up against Lucille Ball and Andy Williams, have lagged all season, and last month it was missing from ABC's 1965-66 schedule.

Don't shed any tears for her, though; "she has decorated more than 200 covers of fan magazines and once was named among the Nation’s most admired women in a Gallup poll," and she admits that the thought of being in a long-term series panicked her; "I just don't have the emotional capacity to stick with something for that long." One wonders if that includes marriage; after recounting this tidbit, Lewis goes on to mention her two-year marriage to actor James Stacy. Although Stacy had completed a movie with Hayley Mills just before the marriage, he hasn't been that active lately—and Stevens has. "My wife has given me two more years to support me," Lewis reports Stacy as having confided to friends. And about Connie, he says, "I've learned to live with her." (They would be divorced next year.)

She's determined to succeed in the business (Hedda Hopper calls her "an apple blossom with the wham of a bulldozer") and she lobbied hard for the role of the young wife in the movie version of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, which eventually went to Sandy Dennis. She was frustrated during her years on WB's Hawaiian Eye that she wasn't allowed to take on more substantive roles or perform in night clubs. and when she refused to go on a personal appearances tour, Warners suspended her. (It was settled "amicably"). Even though her new Warners contract permits those nightclub apperances, and allowed her to appear earlier this season on The Hollywood Palace and The Red Skelton Hour, she still remembers the dispute. "I haven't worked with that many great actors," she says of her time with WB. "I've been with Warner Brothers for too long."

For all this, Connie Stevens looks forward to the future. She's concentrating on displaying a more mature image (she wears fashionable hats, appears ceaselessly at charity events, and even hired a full-time personal manager). And she doesn't read the fan magazines anymore,even though she does look at the pictures. "And still I get upset, because I don't look like Elizabeth Taylor." Not to worry, though; her second marriage is to Liz's ex-husband, Eddie Fisher. The next-best thing, I suppose. TV  

This week in TV Guide: October 28, 1967

We've got a Cleveland Amory 2-for-1 this week, and that's a hard offer to pass up, especially when Cleve has the cover story. Your level of interest will vary depending on how you feel about Hollywood society. 

Our story begins with Hollywood itself, which Amory says is "only a dream," and like other mythical dreams, it was discovered more or less by accident, but most certainly by D.W. Griffith, who'd been sent by the Biography company to make the movie In Old California. Griffith had settled in downtown Los Angeles, but soon found everything he needed in Hollywood. He was soon joined by Cecil B. DeMille, who wound up in Hollywood after having tried to film a western in Flagstaff, where he had found "a raging blizzard and not a single Indian, for free, for hire or for reservations." Like Griffith before him, DeMille found Hollywood to his liking, and soon, "month by month, year by year, the dream factory grew." Anyone could give it a try; as Lewis Selznick once said, "The motion-picture business takes less brains than anything else in the world." (A statement that has yet to be disproved?)

Amory goes on to relate the stories of the stars who made Hollywood glamorous, "the boys who would be gods and the girls who would be goddesses." There was Mary Pickford, who at age 16 had been discovered by Griffith for $5 a picture; "Several years later she herself drew up her contract, which called for $10,000 a week, plus half the profits of her pictures." No wonder she was in at the beginning of United Artists. Clark Gable arrived in a train from Portland, "with four handkerchiefs, two clean shirts, and $2 in cash." He married up, and ten years later he was a star. So did Lucille LeSueur, who waited on tables at age 9, did homework for classmates at 14, did some time in the chorus line, and wound up being Joan Crawford. Greta Garbo was, according to Louis B. Mayer, "too fat," but she made it anyway. Gloria Swanson took baths in a solid gold bathtub, Dolores del Rio drank from a golden chalice, Tom Mix had a drawing room with a fountain that sprayed water in all sorts of colors. I guess, if that's your thing.

Mansions were all the rage. Marion Davies had three, including a 14-room bungalow. Harold Lloyd's boasted the world's largest Christmas tree, with 50,000 ornaments. (Now that's my kind of guy.) At Pickfair, home of Pickford and her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, practical jokes were in; Fairbanks had the dining chairs wired so visitors (even royalty) could be given the "hot seat." And the excess wasn't limited to architecture, either; in promoting an upcoming picture, Sam Goldwyn's advertising department came up with the tag line that We Live Again combined "The directorial genius of Mamoulian, the beauty of Sten and the producing genius of Goldwyn [naturally]" to make "the world's greatest entertainment." Said Goldwyn, "That is the kind of ad I like. Facts. No exaggeration."

Part two of Cleve's chronicle, to appear in the following week's issue, promises to reveal how the Hollywood giants saw themselves and others. They can't do any better than Fred Allen, who once observed acidly that movie stars even wore sunglasses to church. "They're afraid," he said, "God might recognize them and ask them for their autographs."

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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: Scheduled: actress-singer Polly Bergen; pianist Peter Nero; dancer-choreographer Peter Gennaro; ventriloquist Senor Wences; comedians Myron Cohen and Richard Pryor; the Cowsills; and juggler Jean Claude.

Palace: Host Bing Crosby presents comic pianist Victor Borge, singers Roger Miller and Gail Martin, comedian Paul Lynde, Fred and Mickie Finn's ragtime group, and the United Nations Children's Choir.

Unlike many weeks, the lineups here are light on vaudeville acts; the only listed one belongs to Jean Claude on the Sullivan show. Otherwise, things look pretty evenly matched; I've never been a particular fan of children's choirs, especially the UN choir with the kids all in their "native" costumes (I always enjoy how they put the Arab states next to Israel, no doubt hoping to help create peace for future generations). On the other hand, all that really does is offset the Cowsills. And with Roger Miller, Dean Martin's daughter Gail (who can really sing), and Victor Borge, the Palace has a crowd-pleasing lineup—enough so that it gives Palace the win by a phonetic exclamation point.

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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. 

Cleveland Amory's second appearance this week takes us to the world of the television sitcom, and the new CBS series He & She. It's become fashionable over the years to regard He & She as a sitcom that was ahead of its time, a witty and sophisticated precursor to such adult shows as those starring Mary Tyler Moore and Bob Newhart. It's kind of surprising, therefore, that our man Cleve is not so bullish on He & She, viewing it as one that "at best is mildly amusing high camp—and, at worst, is wildly confusing low bunk." 

For Amory, He & She is farce, played completely and entirely for laughs, but for farce to be successful, "you must give your audience such a steady rolling barrage of laughs that they forget you are robbing them of all that is nearest and dearest to them—which is believability." To accomplish this, the producers have surrounded our winsome starts, Dick and Paula (Richard Benjamin and Paula Prentiss) with a supporting cast of "supposedly screamingly funny regulars," each of whom, according to Amory, is at best a one- or two-joke caricature doing the same one or two jokes each week. "By the 15th time they have done the same thing, we are ready to scream—but unfortunately not with laughter."

Amory picks out Jack Cassady as the worst offender, "directed so far over [the top] that he is actually fascinatingly infuriating." Cassidy's character, the egotistic actor Oscar North, has of course widely been considered the template for MTM's egotistic anchorman Ted Baxter (Ted Knight), one of television sitcom's iconic characters. As for the leads, he views Benjamin as fine, although "his nasal voice is a pretty harsh irritant," while Prentiss, whose character is one of the first working wives on television, is "a lovely sight, but she is obviously an acquired taste." Apparently, if He & She was ahead of its time for viewers, it was also ahead of its time for Cleveland Amory. But sometimes Cleve reassesses his reviews at the end of the season; I wonder if he did here as well?

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Before reality television, before daytime chatfests, before Barbara Walters asking you what kind of tree you would be, there was a somewhat more demure, now mostly forgotten program called Personality, a game show which ran on NBC from 1967 to 1969 and, according to Edith Efron, caused its celebrity guests to "park their inhibitions." 

Personality, with host Larry Blyden

Created by Bob Stewart, who's brought us such successful shows as To Tell the Truth, Password, The Price Is Right and Eye Guess, Personality "is based on several solid premises: (1) that the public is curious about what celebrities are 'really' like; (2) that celebrities are curious about what other celebrities are 'really' like; and (3) that celebrities are curious about what the rest of the public things they are 'really' like." Each show has three celebrity panelists. First, they try to guess the answers to questions posed to other celebrities, who appear on tape. Second, they try to guess how their fellow panelists answer questions. Third, they try to guess what the public thinks about each of them. Hopefully, that makes sense. 

The questions come from a master questionnaire written by Stewart, consisting of hundreds of questions "of a personal nature," and they come across as something of an existential Dating Game. Many of them are about sex: "What do you think about sex?" "What's the best way to keep monogamy from turning into monotony?" Others are ethical or fanciful: "If you slept during the next 10 years, what's the first thing you'd like to know when you woke up?" "What do you think is man's greatest weakness?" Finally, there are what Efron terms "intensely personal questions": "What causes you to feel weak in the knees?" "If you had to describe your own personal kind of hell, what would it be like?" I knew things would get interesting!

Although I tend to be one who looks at these celebrity confessionals and shouts "TMI!" there's no question that the format seems to deliver on what it promises. The questions "force people to use their imagination, they force them into deep self-expression. They make people express things they have on their minds and hearts which they don't ordinarily express," Stewart says. "They often say after an interview, 'My God, it's like going to a psychiatrist!'" That may sound like hype, but the answers are surprisingly self-revelatory. When asked, if reincarnation was real, how she would like to come back, Zsa Zsa Gabor replied, "Like I started but without all the mistakes I made." Robert Vaughn, asked the quickest way for a woman to reach his heart, said, "adulation toward me and total silence." And, perhaps most revealing is Henry Morgan's answer when asked if anything is a fate worse than death: "Living."

Efron is impressed by the insight shown by some panelists when asked to guess how the celebrity answers. Skitch Henderson, for instance, correctly deduced Sammy Davis Jr.'s definition of love from the three options given him by reflecting on Davis's relationship with wife Mai Britt: "I think the sort of thing he would say about love would be associated with Mai, so he would say: 'Looking across the room at your wife and just smiling.'" He was right. And when it comes to guessing how the public viewed them, the celebs were split; Henry Morgan was delighted to find he'd correctly predicted that the public, when asked if Morgan were president of a bank, would demand heavy collateral on all loans. On the other hand, Bill Cullen was disappointed when he was told that the public, given the choice of casting him as a clever lawyer, a mad scientist, or the fellow who doesn't get the girl, chose the last option. He'd hoped they'd see him as the clever lawyer.

As far as I could tell, there are a couple of Personality episodes on YouTube; you can see one of them here, with Jack Cassidy, Joan Rivers, and Flip Wilson on the panel. (The other episode, which is uploaded in two parts, appears to be from the same week.) Take a look at it and see if you think something like this would work today.

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There's plenty more to watch this week, starting with Saturday's rematch of last season's college football Game of the Century, as Michigan State travels to Notre Dame to play the Fighting Irish. (1:30 p.m. CT, ABC). Unlike last year's showdown of undefeateds, each side has lost twice coming into this year's matchup. The difference in the two teams' fortunes: after Notre Dame wins 24-12, they run the table and finish the year 8-2, ranked #5 in the nation; Michigan State, on the other hand, will win only once more, en route to a disappointing 3-7 record. As integration eliminates the pipeline that brought black players to northern schools, it will be decades before Michigan State is a national contender again.

Sunday's highlights include the TV premiere of Hud (8:00 p.m., ABC), which Judith Crist calls "extraordinary," featuring a towering performance in the title role by Paul Newman, "the soulless man who not only remarks that he doesn't give a damn—but doesn't." Patricia Neal (Best Actress), Melvyn Douglas (Best Supporting Actor) and James Wong Howe (Best B&W Cinematography) won Oscars, and the movie has been considered a classic almost since its 1963 debut. If that sounds a little too intense for you, you might prefer the delightful Hayley Mills in Pollyanna, spread over three weeks on The Wonderful World of Color (6:30 p.m., NBC).

Next, it's a Monday Night Football trial run, with the Green Bay Packers and St. Louis Cardinals facing off from St. Louis (8:30 p.m., CBS). It's established TV history that CBS turned down the rights to MNF in 1970, leaving ABC to pick up the pieces; I've often wondered how much CBS regretted that move over the years.

Tuesday's Jerry Lewis Show (7:00 p.m., NBC) features what sounds like a truly atrocious premise: a trio of Jerry, Don Rickles. and Dorothy Provine singing "Bosom Buddies." Maybe it isn't as bad as all that—I'm a fan of Dorothy's going back to The Roaring '20s, and she can do it all—but it's probably best to keep one's expectations low. Better yet, check out tonight's episode of The Invaders (7:30 p.m., ABC) in which David Vincent tries to infiltrate a conference of world leaders that may mask an alien plot. This would explain a lot about our world today, wouldn't it? And at 8:00 p.m., NBC presents its first made-for-TV movie of the season, Stranger on the Run, with Henry Fonda as a murder suspect being hunted for sport by a sheriff and his two deputies. 

Jack Benny is the host on Wednesday's Kraft Music Hall (8:00 p.m., NBC), with an eclectic lineup: Liberace, singer Astrud Gilberto, concert violinist Michael Rabin, rock band the Blues Magoos, and two comedians who can also play musical instruments: the aforementioned Henry Morgan on violin, and Morey Amsterdam on cello. I started to wonder why Don Rickles wasn't included, but have no fear: he's Ben Gaszara's client on tonight's Run for Your Life (9:00 p.m., NBC). Don plays a comedian charged with assault, and we'll leave it at that.

We've seen numerous examples of how Golden Age dramas were fleshed out into theatrical films—Requiem for a Heavyweight, Marty, Patterns, 12 Angry Men—and this week we see another, with the TV premiere of 1962's Days of Wine and Roses (Thursday, 8:00 p.m., CBS), which Judith Crist calls "a grim and graphic depiction" of alcoholism, and boasts top performances from Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick. Speaking of top performers, I don't know how good tonight's episode of Cimarron Strip (6:30 p.m., CBS) is, but you can't beat the heavyweight guest cast, which includes Richard Boone, Andrew Duggan, Robert Duvall, Morgan Woodward, and Ed Flanders. And on F. Lee Bailey's interview show Good Company (9:00 p.m., ABC), Lee visits with Nobel Prize-winner Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

On Friday, the Bell Telelphone Hour (9:00 p.m., NBC) travels to England for highlights from the Aldeburgh Festival, hosted by one of the 20th century's most notable composers, Benjamin Britten. Later, on WTCN's 10:00 movie, James Stewart stars in The Spirit of St. Louis, the story of Charles Lindbergh and his famous flight. I mention this only because I'm fairly sure I watched this when it was on back then; I've seen it again since, but when you're a kid, you don't forget the feeling of being able to stay up late watching TV because it's not a school night, and the 10:00 movie was, if I'm not mistaken, sponsored by the auto dealership Downtown Chevytown, which of course used Petula Clark's song as its theme. Ah, the things that stick in your mind.    

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As I've said before, we're all about linkage here, and since Cleveland Amory brought up Paula Prentiss earlier, it would be very, very wrong to ignore the fashion layout she does in this week's issue. Here's, she's displaying four fall outfits designed by Viola Sylbert for Albert Altus. not that you'd notice, but the plastic and Lucite chair was designed by Phil Orenstein for Mass Art. Paula Prentiss and Richard Benjamin were married in 1961, and often performed together. They're both still around, still married, 61 years later.

What was it Cleve said about her being an acquired taste?

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This week's MST3K alert: Kitten with a Whip (Friday, 11:10 p.m., KDAL). "A young girl who has escaped from prison threatens the career of a politically ambitious man." Ann-Margret, John Forsythe, Peter Brown. The only MST3K episode that I wasn't able to finish watching even once, not even to see them give this movie its well-deserved scorn. 

Honorable mention: Attack of the Mushroom People, a 1964 Japanese sci-fi flick, never made it but should have. "A yachting party, cast ashore on an uncharted island, encounters a horrifying fungus." Anybody for a horror reboot of Gilligan's Island? That'll really give the Professor something to do. TV 

This week in TV Guide: April 23, 1966

A mostly interesting "compilation of opinions about Andy Williams" is Dwight Whitney's cover story, which leads off this week's clip-filled TV Guide review.

I'm usually suspicious of articles like this, which consist of no original writing whatsoever, just a collection of quotes that could have been dug up by a research assistant. However, it's a refreshing change from the celebrity hit pieces we read so often in this era of TV Guide, filled with snarky quotes from anonymous sources. This one reads more like an authorized biography, as we get quotes from friends, family, and past and present co-workers, telling the story of Andy's rise to his current celebrity. There's the odd sour quote, but the image that comes through is of a pretty good guy, one who's certainly ambitious and wants to succeed, but doesn't seem inclined to run over people in order to get there.

The most interesting thing to come from the story is how difficult it was for TV people to figure out what to do with Williams. Is he an urbane sophisticate, dating back to the time when he and his brothers performed with singer Kay Thompson?* Or is he the farm boy from Iowa, the kid in a tuxedo on a tractor, as he once put it? Is he hip, simple, down-home, what?

*Fun fact: Although she had a successful singing career and was a mentor to Andy, she's best-known today as the author of the Eloise kids' stories, supposedly based on her goddaughter, Liza Minnelli.

The producer of his first television special, Bud Yorkin, puts it best when he says that "all he has to do is be himself." He can control the audience now, Yorkin says, because "At last he is in charge." And you know what? Simply being Andy Williams led to a pretty good career for Andy Williams, didn't it?

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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: Scheduled guests: comic Shelly Berman, satirist Allan Sherman, Metropolitan Opera soprano Roberta Peters, dancer José Greco, the rock 'n' rolling Dave Clark Five, the singing Kessler Twins, gospel singer Steve Sanders, magician John Moehring, comics Hendra and Ullett, and dancers Brascia and Tybee.

Palace:  Host Victor Borge introduces singer Jane Powell, choreographer-dancer Peter Gennaro, comedian Irwin Corey, the singing Kim Sisters, and the Brothers Kim, instrumentalists, and Irish trapeze artist Gala Shawn.

This is from one of Victor Borge's funniest routines: phonetic punctuation. Although the clip's not from the Palace (it's from the Sullivan show, ironically), this is one of the bits he would have done on the show. I think Borge is terrific—always liked him, always thought he was funny. However, I'm not sure even he would have been enough to propel this week's Palace past Ed.

Quick quiz: who was the most frequent guest on the Ed Sullivan show? If you answered Roberta Peters, you'd be right. She appeared with Ed 65 times, more than anyone else. It's a testimony not only to the lost era of what Terry Teachout calls "middlebrow culture," but to the charm of Roberta Peters, who made her debut at the Metropolitan Opera when he was only twenty years old. Here's a sampler of her work from a previous appearance with Ed:


Besides Peters, Ed has a very strong lineup, what with Shelly Berman (who actually impressed me more as a dramatic actor than a standup), the wonderful Allan Sherman, and the great dis cancer José Greco. I think we've got a winner here: Sullivan hits the high notes this week.

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No review this week from Cleveland Amory, because our favorite curmudgeon critic is reporting from Africa, U.S.A., the park about 50 miles northeast of Hollywood where most of today's television and movie wild animal scenes are filmed. The park—which includes a "jungleland" complete with Zulu villages, a "Beverly Hills" section for more urban scenes, and "more than 300 African, Asian and in fact, world-wide animals" including Clarence, the Cross-Eyed Lion—is co-owned and operated by animal trainer Ralph Helfer and television producer Ivan Tors, and houses animals "ranging from aardvarks, alligators and anteaters to Xipheosaras, yaks and zebras.

     Cheryl Miller with trainer Ted Derby

On the day of Cleve's visit, Africa, U.S.A. is hopping with action: Marshall Thompson and Cheryl Miller of Daktari are filming a scene with a Bengal tiger on one stage; on another, a cheetah is attacking a hyena that's attacking actress Dina Merrill; and other stages feature a rhino charging a station wagon full of people and a baby lion and chimp on the back of a crocodile. Having all the animals together like this makes perfect sense; they're around people who know how to train them and take care of them properly; and the place is, as we see, well-equipped to handle any kind of simulated jungle that a director might require. Thompson says, "I've worked here every day for a year, and I still don't believe it."

As we know, the humane treatment of animals is a high priority for Cleveland Amory, and I suspect that this was at least part of the story behind his trip to Africa, U.S.A. What is perhaps the money quote of the story appears when Tors discusses the importance of the project to him. "We live a phony existence," Tors tells Amory. "We don't underatand life and death. We fell out of rhythm with nature. We pretend we don't kill, but let others kill for us." He senses a change in the attitude society has regarding the treatment of animals. "[T]hree years ago, when a safari started out from the New Stanley Hotel in Narobi, the natives would cheer. Now they jeer. And right here in our country there's beginning to be an entirely different feeling about everything to do with animals—from hunting all the way to laboratory animals."

In January 1969, Africa U.S.A. is destroyed following severe flooding and mudslides; on the positive side, only nine of 1,500 animals drown. Eventually, it will be redeveloped as part of Marine World, and after relocating, it winds up as part of Six Flags Discovery Kingdom.

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Can you believe it? ABC's Wide World of Sports celebrates its fifth anniversary this week (Saturday, 4:00 p.m. CT). What's fascinating about the clips shown in this special is how vividly it brings to life what kind of sports people paid attention to in 1966. There's Valery Brumel setting the world high-jump record, Bob Hayes with the 100-yard dash world record, and Jim Beattie becoming the first man ever to run a sub-four-minute mile indoors—all track and field events (which all played out as Cold War substitutes), none occurring during the Olympics, which is about the only time America pays attention to these events nowadays. Peggy Fleming, who's yet to win the Olympic gold, is featured in her recent victory at the U.S. Championships, and Scotsman Jim Clark wins the 1965 Indianapolis 500, while Arnold Palmer takes the crown in the 1962 British Open, a time before American stars routinely made the trip overseas to compete in the tournament.

These events—track, golf, figure skating, auto racing—were, along with boxing, staples of Wide World for many years, and they're part of the reason I was such an avid fan of the show growing up. I got to see sports that weren't normally on television, often from exotic locales, sometimes live, almost always with a sense of drama and importance. There was, indeed, a feeling that these were on TV because they were special, as were the people competing in them.

Today, you can get most of these events pretty much any time you want, on any one of the all-sports networks out there. We've become used to them, or (as is the case with track) we've ignored them. In other words, seeing them on TV isn't special any more. And that's unfortunate.

Meanwhile, at 1:30 p.m. Sunday on NBC, it's Game 1 of the NHL's Stanley Cup Final between the Detroit Red Wings and Montreal Canadiens. Detroit's trying to win its first cup since the 1950s, while Montreal looks to make it seven out of the last eleven years.* The Wings take the opener in Montreal, 3-2; they'll also win Game 2 two nights later by the score of 5-2. Heading back home for two games, and only two wins away from the Cup, they'll lose the next four, and won't appear in the finals again until 1995.

*How times have changed, part 1,458: the Canadiens, winners of more Stanley Cups than any other team in history, last won the Cup in 1993—their longest drought in team history. The Wings, on the other hand, have won four during that span, the most recent coming in 2008.

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Is this interesting only to me? In this week's editorial, Merrill Panitt wonders out loud whether or not it was necessary for all three networks to devote as much time as they did to the emergency splashdown of Gemini 8 on March 17. For those of you too young to remember this, the Gemini capsule piloted by Neil Aermstrong and David Scott began tumbling uncontrollably while in orbit on the first day of their mission. NASA decided to bring the capsule back as soon as feasible, and the astronauts splashed down safely that night 500 miles east of Okinawa. The drama—and, make no mistake, the astronauts were in real danger—lasted a little over four hours, from 7:15 to 11:25 p.m. ET. The networks provided continuous coverage throughout, preempting the entire prime-time schedule.

"We bow to no one in our concerns for the astronauts' safety or own own respect for teh networks for throwing overboard so much advertising income," Panitt writes. However, he notes, was such in-depth coverage necessary? The lack of actual hard news meant that "Messrs. Bergman, Cronkite and Wallace, Brinkley and McGee ad-libbed, reiterated, stalled and generally tried to cover up the fact that they had nothing to report." Panitt suggests that the answer to all this is a system by which one network (on a rotating basis) provides continuous coverage, while the other two interrupt from time to time with updates, augmenting a running news ticker at the bottom of the screen.

Obviously, we can debate how one determines which news stories merit such extensive coverage, but Panitt points to a problem that is all-too real today: that of the need to fill a continuous 24/7 news cycle. As we've seen, our "news" channels answer that question by turning virtually every local news story into one of national importance worthy of saturation, simply filling the dead time with politically charged commentary that doesn't help in the least. Compared to what passes for news today, the Gemini 8 emergency coverge is hardly a blip on the screen.

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And now, another episode of "Random Notes."

On Monday night at 9:00 p.m. Duluth's WDSM, Channel 6, is the only station in this issue carrying the syndicated broadcast of the world middleweight boxing championship fight from Madison Square Garden, pitting champion Dick Tiger against welterweight champ Emile Griffith. In an unpopular decision booed by the fans in the Garden, Griffith takes the title with a unanimous 15-round decision.

Tuesday's episode of McHale's Navy (7:30 p.m., ABC) presents a dilemma that remains one of television's great tropes: "An Italian signorina and her soldier boyfriend want to get married, but there's on one around to perform the ceremony—except possibly boat captain McHale." Which raises the question: can a ship's captain really marry people? Pertinent to this episode, the United States Navy says no: "The commanding officer shall not perform a marriage ceremony on board his ship or aircraft." And in non-military situations, a captain can only perform a marriage if he or she already has the authority: if, for example, the captain is a Notary Public, a recognized minister, a judge, or a justice of the peace. In other words, as a Notary, I can perform your marriage. It will cost you, though.

Our latest installment of "when television used to show classy dramas," presented without comment: Wednesday's Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation of "Lamp at Midnight" (6:30 p.m., NBC), the story of the epic conflict between Galileo and the Catholic Church, with an all-star cast including Melvin Douglas as Galileo, with David Wayne, Michael Hordern, Hurd Hatfield and Kim Hunter. (There's a nice color feature on the production elsewhere in the issue.) Interesting, isn't it, how the advertising tries to capitalize on the space program to attract viewers to a story that occurred 400 years ago?

A couple of shows are worth mentioning on Thursday: first, it's the finale of this season's series of National Geographic specials (6:30 p.m., CBS), which also serves as a beginning of sorts. It's "The World of Jacques-Yves Cousteau," produced by David L. Wolper and narrated by Orson Welles, and it documents the famed undersea explorer's third journey to the continental shelf in his exploration capsule Conshelf Three. In 1968, the series The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau will premiere on ABC (narrated first by Rod Serling and later by Joseph Campanella), and runs through 1976. At the same time on ABC, Batman does battle with the archfiend Riddler (Frank Gorshin) and his moll, Pauline (Sherry Jackson). And here's a question that parents probably found easier to deal with than the ones their kids usually come up with:

McHale's Navy isn't the only show this week to feature a matrimonial theme; on Friday, it's a repeat of The Farmer's Daughter's November episode (8:30 p.m., ABC) in which Katy (Inger Stevens) finally gets her man, marrying Congessman Glen Morley (William Windom). The Farmer's Daughter wasn't the first sitcom to feature a "very special" wedding; that would be Mister Peepers in 1954. But it was one of the earliest, and it personifies two traditions that continue to this day: the wedding episode is a ratings winner, and viewer interest in the series generally goes downhill from there. Why? Well, the wedding episode often serves as the culmination of a long-running theme, and as such eliminates the storyline (and tension) that has kept the series going. What more is left to say? (How many times have we heard viewers say that things "just aren't the same" after the wedding?" Probably as often as marriage counselors.) Does the wedding episode kill off a series, or does it simply conclude it? Chicken and egg.

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Speaking of that Farmer's Daughter episode, maybe it's just me, and the memory playing tricks, but I always thought the summer rerun season came later in the year, in May or (in some cases) even June. And yet here we are, in virtually the last week of April, and the reruns are starting: besides The Farmer's Daughter, Honey West, Flipper, The John Forsythe Show, The Addams Family, McHale's Navy and Daniel Boone are among those "beginning a series of reruns," while Perry Como's Kraft Music Hall airs its last show of the season, and Sing Along With Mitch returns "for a series of warm-weather reruns." Keep in mind that there were more episodes per series back then, oftentimes over 30*, and this suggests there weren't that many reruns shown outside of the summer season.

*Of course, as a series progressed through several seasons and accumulated inventory, the annual number of episodes produced would generally go down, the gaps being filled in with episodes from years past.

The variety series is often a clue as to when summer actually arrives: Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton, Dean Martin and others take the summer off, with their slots being taken by those Summer Playhouse-type anthologies consisting of failed pilots, or a variety series hosted by a new young comic or singing star. (Glen Campbell! Vic Damone! George Carlin!) Jackie, Red and Dean are all on this week (albeit with a few reruns sprinkled in), so don't make those summer vacation plans quite yet. TV