This week in TV Guide: July 30, 1960

Usually, we don't think of a tightrope as being particularly violent. Dangerous, yes, but when someone falls off one while working without a net, we call it tragic, horrible, many other words; but violent isn't generally one of them. And then there's the series Tightrope!, which appears to have fallen victim to precisely that—violence.

For those who aren't familiar with it, Tightrope! was a series that ran on CBS during the 1959-60 season, starring Mike Connors as an undercover agent who, each week, would infiltrate a criminal organization in order to get the goods on their leaders. He was assigned to a different case in a different city each week, assuming an identity appropriate to the situation, but nobody—not even the local police departments—knew his true identity, thus putting him in jeopardy from both the criminals and the cops while carrying out his assignment. So secret was his assignment, even viewers didn't know his real name; he was referred to in the credits as "Nick," but I think I heard I heard his boss refer to him by that name only once. I ran across Tightrope! while perusing the TV Guides of the era (it was syndicated for several years after its initial run), and, the last time I looked, almost every episode was available on YouTube or the Internet Archive. (I reviewed it here a few years ago.)

So far, so good. It wasn't the greatest show on television, but it was far from being the worst, either. The premise was different, the stories were decent, and Mike Connors is always a watchable personality; even the weakest Mannix episodes benefit from his presence. The sponsor, Pharmaceuticals, Inc., liked Tightrope!, complimenting the show's creators, Clarence Greene and Russell Rouse, with doing a "magnificent job." The show's ratings were good: going head-to-head with the successful Western The Rifleman, it had succeeded in knocking that show down from #3 to #9 in the national ratings. While the episodes consistently ran over budget, Greene and Rouse were more than willing to put aside any chance of the show making a profit in order to keep the show's standards high. In April, Pharmaceuticals, Inc. told them to go ahead and get started on the new season, causing Greene and Rouse to give up several other projects, including a "lucrative movie deal." 

However, as Dwight Whitney recounts in this week's cover story, and as so often happens in the slimy world of network television, things changed. On April 15, without any warning, Greene and Rouse "read in a trade paper that CBS had filled their time slot with The Tom Ewell Show, a new comedy." The duo got, in Greene's words, "nothing but double talk" when they talked to the network. The sponsor, while praising the show, told them that, regretfully, "network problems were such that they made continuation of our sponsorship impossible." Greene and Rouse finally went straight to the top, sending a three-page letter to CBS president Frank Stanton and television division president James Aubrey asking for an explanation. They were told that said explanation would come from Oscar Katz, VP in charge of network programming.

And those explanations, for there were very many of them forthcoming, were as follows: first, that the network "'owned a substantial financial interest in the Ewell show' and therefore gave it 'preferential treatment.'" This turned out to be more than a little B.S.; Four Star, the show's producer, claimed the network shared in less than ten percent of the show's profits, and those only when it went to reruns. A second explanation was that the network was looking to establish a comedy block on Tuesday nights, and Tightrope! was the odd man (or show) out.*

*Indeed, the 1960-61 Tuesday night schedule would be made up of comedy and variety shows: repeats of Father Knows best, followed by Dobie Gillis, the Ewell show, The Red Skelton Show, and The Garry Moore Show. However, the network chose to leave the 7:30 p.m. half-hour slot open to the affiliates. Hmm.

Whether or not either of these explanations passes the plausibility test, though, neither would preclude another network from picking up Tightrope! And that brings us to the third, and perhaps most important, factor. As Whitney recounts it, "Under the fire of Congressional investigations rising out of the quiz and payola scandals, 'violence' had become a word to be feared. And there was no denying that Tightrope! was dealing in violence. Its ratings were simply not robust enough to justify the risk." In other words, had Tightrope! been a top-10 performer for the network, its violence would have been perfectly acceptable. But the last time I checked, violence is pretty much the same wherever you go, and whatever you do. Just because it's more popular, or comes with a higher (or lower) pricetag, doesn't make it more or less acceptable. Does it?

So this seems to be the final answer. And the last word comes from someone formerly "high up in the business," who told Whitney this: "What makes a good show? This is the impossible thing to answer. So, because it's impossible, we compound the felony. You don't know what you want, but only what you don't want. Everybody looks at it from their own point of view—like the blind men and the elephant. In TV it all depends on which end you grab. You grab the tail and, if you're not careful, you end up imagining the whole elephant is a rope."

Come to think of it, that explains pretty much everything about the world we live in today, doesn't it? We don't know what we like, only what we don't like. Before you know it, the only choices you have left are bad ones, which really means no choice at all. In the end, you're left with nothing to do but complain about it. And we do a lot of complaining nowadays, don't we?

l  l  l

I'd like to think that the other item on the cover this week, on how violence on television can be curbed, was meant to be ironic placement. If it wasn't, it should have been. It's a summary of an outline sent to television producers by Kenneth Adam, the controller of television for the BBC, on how said producers should deal with violence. A few highlights:

Children's Programming: The "main danger points" in which the reactions of adults and children may differ are situations "which upset a child's emotional security, arising out of adoption, desertion, cruelty in the house, unwanted children, friction between parents, especially in contemporary settings"; portrayals of injuries or illnesses; "villainous" actions that could be imitated, such as using traps and pitfalls; "bad" habits in "good" characters, such as smoking; the use of weapons that are "easily available," such as knives;* and eerie or fearful atmospheres, especially when accentuated by music. These concerns should be considered regarding any program airing prior to 9:00 p.m.

*The tool of choice for attackers in Great Britain nowadays.

Adult Programs: According to the code, violence "should arise naturally from the story, and be therefore dramatically necessary and defensible"; violence that is "extraneous and designed for depraved effect" should be rejected, and any such natural sequences should not be "unduly prolonged; as with children's programmong, dangerous instruments, other than guns, should be carefully considered to avoid imitation; sound effects should not "distort or magnify the impact of violence," and anyone engaged in fisticuffs should not use "tactics of a vicious or bestial nature"; finally, violence against women or animals "must require special scrutiny." 

Interestingly, the guidelines make a clear distinction between violence, brutality, and combat. "Brutality is not the same thing as violence. Violence is not the same thing as combat. Yet because combat, which is healthy, and brutality, which is not, both contain violence, they tend to become identified." Battle scenes can be mitigated by using long-range camera shots, and there should be no shots "which dwell upon the more gruesome and bloody physical aspects of a combat." Some of these recommendations are quite commonsensical, while others are, I think, a little spurious. I would question, however, the idea that combat is "healthy"—let's see what the soldiers involved in it have to say about it.

l  l  l

And now, here's the kind of item that I search these TV Guides for. On Sunday's Chevy Mystery Show (9:00 p.m. ET, NBC), the summer replacement for The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, the episode is "Enough Rope," starring Richard Carlson and Bert Freed, and written by William Link and Richard Levinson. The description: "Psychiatrist Roy Flemming has one too many women in his life. He has a wife, Claire, and a girl friend, Susan. The solution is a simple one: murder the wife and live happily ever after with the girl friend." Carlson is the adulterous doctor, while Freed, who often plays the heavy, portrays the detective investigating the crime. The play not only airs in color, it's also broadcast live.

Now, I don't know if this description sounds vaguely familiar to you, but it should. It's based on a play, "Prescription: Murder," written by Link and Levinson. In 1968, it was remade as a TV-movie, again on NBC. This time, Gene Barry took on the role of the suave Dr. Flemming, while the detective, named Lieutenant Columbo, was played by Peter Falk. Well, you can probably figure out the rest. Technically, the movie Prescription: Murder was not the pilot for Columbo; it wasn't until another Columbo movie, Ransom for a Dead Man, aired in 1971 that the network decided to turn the concept into a series later that year. But while there are differences between Freed's portrayal of Columbo, Falk's first time in the role, and the way the character is played in the subsequent series, there's no doubt that the good Lieutenant is displaying the primary characteristics that we all know and love.

l  l  l

What else? I'll admit, sometimes it seems like a chore trying to find interesting programs to watch each night. I look at them and think that if I'm not interested, being the biggest nerd around, will anyone else be interested? And then I think maybe it will be better in the fall, when we're flooded with new series, specials, big movies, and the like. We'll see about that. But in the meantime, we'll turn over to NBC on Saturday at 9:30 p.m., where Herb Shriner hosts World Wide 60's look at the Boy Scouts of America's 50th Anniversary Jamboree from Colorado Springs. I have some thoughts about the Boy Scouts, what they were and what they are, and I'll not share them at the moment, but with the Blue Angels, the Army's K-9 corps, and trained falcons from the nearby Air Force Academy, I'm sure it's a colorful pageant—or would be, at least, if the show was in color.

A show that is in color is Music on Ice (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., NBC), the summer replacement for Sunday Showcase, hosted by Johnny Desmond; and if you remember those Ice Capades specials that I've highlighted here from time to time, this weekly series will look somewhat familiar. This week's non-skating guest is singer June Valli, and she's joined by skaters Jo Ann McGowan, Peter Firstbrook, and Willie Kali; and Steve Gibson's Redcaps vocal group. At the same time on CBS, Ed Sullivan's headliners are Gordon and Sheila MacRae, Harry James and his orchestra, comics Wayne and Shuster, and singer Jane Morgan. Your choice. 

You remember Arthur Godfrey, surely; I just wrote about him last week. When Godfrey was at his peak, one of the multiple shows he hosted was called Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts. Well, the idea, if not the host, returns on Monday, with Celebrity Talent Scouts (9:00 p.m., CBS), hosted by the genial comedian Sam Levenson. The premise is simple: each week, three celebrities present their "discoveries" for our entertainment. Tonight's celebrities are Ann Sheridan, Audrey Meadows, and Phil Silvers (who introduces something of a ringer, Mickey Freeman, who played Zimmerman on the Bilko series). Another summer entry is the return of the anarchic Spike Jones and his band (9:30 p.m., CBS). Spike swears he's off the slapstick schtick for this series, although Bill Dana is on hand as one of the regulars, playing his Jose Jiminez character.

Tuesday's Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, starring Hugh O'Brian (8:30 p.m., ABC) is often credited with being the first adult Western, and rightly so. Something that's not generally recognized, though, is that it is one of the few series of the time that came to a natural end. The series did progress chronologically—perhaps it wasn't a serial in the way we think of them today, but it followed Earp from Ellsworth to Dodge City to Tombstone; in two months, it begins its sixth and final season, building up inexorably to the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral with a multi-part story that brings the series to a conclusion. If that's not a great way to go out, I don't know what is. Later on CBS, catch Ernie Kovacs in 'I Was a Bloodhound," a great private detective spoof originally seen on G.E. Theater last year, on Comedy Spot. (9:30 p.m.)

Bette Davis makes a rare television dramatic appearance on Wednesday's Wagon Train (7:30 p.m., NBC), as Elizabeth McQueeny, taking her group of girls out West to start a finishing school. Johnny Carson, not yet the Tonight host, is the guest on I've Got a Secret (9:30 p.m,. CBS), trying to stump the panel with his "secret," which is that he's answering their questions while hooked up to a lie detector. And Armstrong Circle Theater (10:00 p.m. CBS) tells the story of police narcotics squad members who go undercover in Greenwich Village to bust a drug ring on "Raid in Beatnik Village." Douglas Edwards, anchorman of the CBS evening news, narrates.

Thursday night sees the debut of Wranger (9:30 p.m., NBC), a new half-hour Western starring Jason Evers as a wandering cowpoke named Pitcairn. Tonight, he runs into a ranch owner named McQueen; alas, the perfect crossover promotion is missed, as it's not Steve McQueen from Wanted—Dead or Alive, but a character named McQueen, a "gorgeous blonde" played by Susan Oliver, who is, indeed, both. The series is the first to be created by Gene Roddenberry, who had a long history with Westerns; it runs for only six episodes as a summer replacement for Tennessee Ernie Ford, but never made it beyond that. Perhaps the other McQueen would have helped.

On Friday, a Project 20 repeat from 1956 takes a look at "The Jazz Age," in a documentary narrated by the late Fred Allen (10:00 p.m., NBC). The special chronicles "America and Americans" from the end of World War I to the 1929 stock market crash. A lot happened during that decade-plus, from the Treaty of Versailles to Prohibition to the KKK to Lindbergh's flight. I've read that the documentary was edited down from 23 hours of film; Ken Burns probably would have used it all, and it would have taken two months to tell the same story.

l  l  l

Finally, you may recall a 1962 feature on Tuesday Weld that appeared last month. There's a similar article about Tuesday this week, relevant in that she's currently appearing as one of the Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. I won't recount the details, as most of it is already covered in the 1962 article. However, I would be remiss if I didn't share this rather, uh, entertaining photo spread of Tuesday, in her words, "becoming a teen-ager!" as she dances along to an Elvis record. (Funny, I don't recall knowing any teens quite like that back in the day; I clearly went to the wrong high school.)

I don't think you even try to follow that, do you? TV  

Around the dial

Let's get right to it, starting at bare-bones e-zine, where Jack's Hitchcock Project looks at Robert Gould's ninth-season episode "How to Get Rid of Your Wife," which, despite the title, is a "lighthearted look" at psychological warfare within an unhappy marriage. Bob Newhart, Jane Withers, and Joyce Jameson star.

At RealWeegieMidget, Gill recalls Gena Rowlands and her small but multifaceted role as the wife of the murderous Oskar Werner in the 1975 Columbo episode "Playback," an episode which star Peter Falk (a longtime friend and collaborator of Rowlands' husband, John Cassavetes) called the series' best.

The Sylvia Coleridge "season" continues at Cult TV Blog, and this week John takes a look at her magnificent performance in the Armchair Thriller six-parter "Quiet as a Nun," based on the novel by Lady Antonia Fraser, in which Coleridge plays—what else?—a nun. 

At Comfort TV, David reviews six episodes from The Twilight Zone's exceptional first season: three that rank as classics (including the all-time "A Stop at Willoughby"), and three that, well, don't quite measure up. For what it's worth, I concur on all six.

Roger continues his episode-by-episode review of The New Avengers at A View from the Junkyard, and this week we're up to "Sleeper," a game of tag that's played for the highest possible stakes: if you get tagged, you die.

In case you weren't aware of it, the television world has been up in arms over the last few days over the move by Warner Bros. to remove their classic theatrical cartoons—Looney Tunes—from WB's streaming service, Max. Terence has his take on it at A Shroud of Thoughts.

I've never liked the "amateur detectives" that the British are so fond of; on the other hand, I have great respect for many of their police dramas, especially the older ones. Cult TV Lounge takes us back to season one of Van Der Valk, starring Barry Foster, based on the characters created by Nicolas Freeling. TV  

Around the dial

Let's start this week at bare-bones e-zine, where Jack welcomes a new writer to the Hitchcock Project. It's Dick Carr, author of the first season episode "The Big Switch," a story of gunfighters and possibly divine intervention, with a stirling cast including Gene Barry, Darren McGavin, and Ellen Corby.

At Classic Film & TV Cafe, Rick applies his "Seven Things to Know" talent to Zorro, the late-1950s Walt Disney-produced series for ABC, starring Guy Williams as the famed masked crimefighter. Did you know that Annette was a big fan of Zorro and appeared on four episodes?

The Secret Sanctum of Captain Video goes the graphic route, with this Kung Fu story "The Rising Storm." Excellent artwork in this adaptation, which reminds me that I really should go back and watch this series again at some point.

Roger takes on the 1995 Columbo episode "Strange Bedfellows" over at The View from the Junkyard. Reading the description, the story didn't sound familiar, and I've got the Columbo boxed set. It made sense when I saw the 1995 date; we skipped most of the movies, which failed to live up to the standards of the original series. As for this episode? Sounds like we made the right choice.

A couple of anniversary recognitions from Terence at A Shroud of Thoughts. First, it's the 60th anniversary of The Fugitive, one of the great TV shows of all time. Next, it's 60 years for The Patty Duke Show, the series that made "identical cousins" a thing, even though the odds on that happening are something like a billion to one. (Like so much else, you can actually look it up online!)

At The Hits Just Keep On Comin', JB posts some random thoughts, including a review of what sounds like an interesting book, TV Snapshots: An Archive of Everyday Life, by Lynn Spigel. (Embedded is a link to another interesting piece, this one by Drew Magary, on the meaning a television set can have.)

David raises an interesting question at Comfort TV: what does it mean when we say a television character has "integrity"? Some interesting examples follow; I always enjoy it when someone measures television charactes as if they were actual people, and David does a very good job of it. Good comments here as well.

At Cult TV Blog, John wraps up (for now) his excellent series on The X-Files and the American Dream, and comes to some conclusions. You'll want to make sure to catch up on the latest entries from the past week, Thought-provoking as always.  TV  

Around the dial

The picture above was taken in a department store on October 22, 1962, during President Kennedy's Cuban Missile Crisis speech. There's a shared sense about it, the feeling that people are going through this together. Nowadays, would people be glued to their phones, each lost in their own little world while the big one stands on the brink? Somehow, I think I prefer the old way.

On a lighter note, those sets are handsome pieces of furniture, aren't they? At the Broadcast Archives, here's a  1960s ad for a 21-inch color set; could very well be one that's displayed on the floor there. Today's big screens are great, but I miss those old consoles.

At Comfort TV, David has some random observations about classic TV that are sure to ring a bell with many of us. Some of them are quite shrewd (#6, for instance), while with others you'll nod your head and think, "Yeah, now that you mention it, he's right." Great stuff.

The actress Sharon Farrell died this past May, although it was not announced until last week. Hers was a familiar name and face to anyone watching teleivsion in the 1960s and '70s, and Terence pays tribute to her career in this piece at A Shroud of Thoughts.

John continues his provocative look at the relationshilp between The X-Files and the American Dream with a look at several more episodes that provide commentary on, if you will, the difference between the dream and the reality of America. Always food for thought.

Back when times were simpler, one of TV's favorite questions was whether or not Mister Ed was actually a zebra. At Drunk TV, Paul goes back to those simple times, with a look at the show's third season: still funny, but how long can this premise go on?

At The View from the Junkyard, Roger takes a look at "No Time to Die," an unconventional (and perhaps underappreciated) episode of Columbo, one that is a complete departure from the standard Columbo format. Did it work? You be the judge, but Roger has some interestng thoughts.

Finally, a quick note from Jodie at Garroway at Large: Peace, her biography of Dave Garroway is now available at Amazon in both hardcover and paperback, so if you haven't purchased your copy yet, here's another option. Now you have no excuses! TV  

Around the dial

Most of today's commercials are—what would you say? Odes to crass materialism? Of course, that's always been a part of advertising. But sometimes a commercial can evokes an era long left behind, and at Comfort TV, David looks at one such commercial: the 1977 "Here's to good friends" commercial for Löwenbräu. I think you'll know just what David is talking about.

Christmas has produced more than its share of good times, at least for me, and at Christmas TV History Joanna continues her month-long look at some of those memories created by various adaptations of A Christmas Carol. Next up: Ebenezer, a 1998 Western-themed remake with Jack Palance as a terrific Scrooge.

At bare•bones e-zine, Jack continues the Hitchcock Project with the second of Charlotte Armstrong's scripts for the Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "Sybilla," a domestic drama with a very big twist, starring Alexander Scorby and Barbara Bel Geddes.

John takes a break from his American Dream and The X-Files series at Cult TV Blog to watch The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and the second-season episode "The Birds and the Bees Affair," an "insane" story about bees being used as killer weapons. Some of the ideas could have come right out of the CIA handbook. . .

We haven't heard from The Horn Section for awhile, so this week Hal makes up for it with a two-parter from Love That Bob's final season in 1959: "Bob Helps Martha," and "Bob Helps Von Zell." The great Rose Marie plays Martha in the first episode, while Harry Von Zell appears as himself in the second, as does George Burns. 

At Cult TV Lounge, we're up to a fine Tara King episode that I quite enjoyed: "The Interrogators," with Christopher Lee in terrific form as a sinister British office who may or may not be what he seems. Of course, any episode in which Steed gets to use his armored bowler hat is a guarantee.

Martin Grams has some book reviews for you in you're in the mood for some nice reading material. The five books in question are career bios of Betty White, Carol Lynley, Jeanne Eagels, Barbara Nichols, and Sylvia Sidney. A star and an era for just about anyone, I'd say.

Here's something from last week that I'm catching up on: at Television Obscurities, Robert celebrats "Lost TV Day" with a look at the programming shown on ABC on Thursday, January 12, 1961. This inclusive article shows just how difficult it can be to accurately research American television. It also shows how such a valuable archive was treated with so little care.

At  The View from the Junkyard, Roger reviews the Columbo episode "Murder in Malibu," one of the "new" Columbo episodes, and a rarity: a truly bad episode, featuring bad acting from almost everyone, a weak twist, and a case against the killer that's "falling apart at the seams, inside-out, back-to-front, and the label is showing." Ouch!

Travlanche celebrates the 110th birthday of Dave Garroway, and talks about his legacy in television history, especially Today. And if there's anyone who can tell you what that legacy is all about, it's my friend Jodie at Garroway at Large, who wrote the book on Dave. Her book, Peace, is a winner for anyone who wants to know more about both Dave Garroway and television history, and you can buy it here.

Finally, a link to my latest appearance on The Dan Schneider Video Interview. It's a real treat this week, as the aforementioned Martin Grams joins us to talk about The Twilight Zone, and I can't think of anyone more qualified to do so. You can view it here. By the way, things have been a bit busy here, so if you've left a comment on the blog and haven't seen a reply yet, I'll be doing those today. TV  

Around the dial

We'll start this week on a self-serving note; my latest appearance on the Dan Schneider Video Interview is up. We're talking about the original Mission: Impossible: why it's a terrific show, why it's a problematic show, and why you should watch it. I hope you do check out the video (as well as the rest of Dan's interviews). Let me know what I'm doing right, and what I need to improve. 

at Cult TV Blog, where John is beginning a series of posts about The X-Files and the American Dream—specifically, how the show overlays the American Dream with "a dystopian scenario of government corruption, interference, violence, experimentation, and is largely a delusional front to what is portrayed as a controlling despotic country." Needless to say, I'm interested in this kind of thing, considering the scope of my "Descent into Hell" series, so I'll be following this closely.

From the website of the Brownstone Institute, Thomas Harrington writes about "those silly dads on TV" —a situation that's existed since virtually the beginning of the medium—and why this isn't particularly good for our culture.

At The View from the Junkyard, there's the usual Avengers post (which I'm always going to read), but also "Agenda for Murder," a fine episode of the rebooted Columbo featuring the third appearance of Patrick McGoohan as a killer, who is almost—but, of course, not quite—a match for the wiley detective.

There's a nice piece at Travalanche about Bud Collyer, whom most classic TV aficionado recognize from hosting a variety of game shows (most notably To Tell the Truth), as well as voicing Superman on the radio adventures and animated cartoons. There's more to him, as you'll see here.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence notes the 75th anniversary of The Ed Sullivan Show, one of the great shows in televisison history. As you know from my Sullivan vs. Palace TV Guide feature, I'm vested in Ed's place in pop culture history, and glad those performances continue to be available for viewing. 

A good week; as I've said in the past, what we lack in quantity we make up in quality. TV  

Around the dial

I think we'll start this week with Cult TV Lounge, and a look at the Lost in Space TV tie-in novel written by Dave van Arnam and Ron Archer in 1967, while the show was still on the air. It contains three interrelated stories, and as you'll see, it takes quite a different tone from the series itself.

At The Lucky Strike Papers, my friend Andrew Lee Fielding gives a very nice credit to me by way of mentioning Peace, my friend Jodie's new Dave Garroway biography. If you've not ordered Peace yet, you should. And if you've not read Andrew's wonderful book The Lucky Strike Papers, you should; I reviewed that here.

The emphasis on TV books continues at A Shroud of Thoughts with Terence's review of the book Popeye the Sailor: The 1960s TV Cartoons, by Fred M. Grandenetti. If you're around my age, you'll have fond memories of these cartoons, which often showed up on local kids' shows (at least in my experience), and Mr. Grandenetti makes the case that these cartoons deserve more respect than they've gotten.

At bare-bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project takes him to the third teleplay from Halsted Welles, the seventh-season episode "Strange Miracle," with David Opatoshu and Miriam Colon. It's a neat little story that has a devilish—or, actually, a quite angelic—twist at the end. I'm looking forward to seeing this one.

Robert celebrates 20 years of his site Television Obscurities this week, and let me take the opportunity to credit his fine work over those 20 years in bringing so much of obscure television to light; I've often consulted it in researching things you read about here, and I never fail to come away from it knowing more than I did beforehand.

At Those Were the Days, a look at the June 15, 1963 issue of TV Guide, and the cover story on the series Combat!, with its two stars, Vic Morrow and Rick Jason, sharing a rare (for that show) lighthearted moment. If you've never watched Combat!, you should; it's one of the best, most intense, dramas of its time—not a show about war as much as it is about men in a war.

It seems as if I'm always focusing on The Avengers over at The View from the Junkyard, so this week I thought I'd link to Roger's look at "Columbo Cries Wolf," the first 1990s episode of the revived series, and one that presents us with a format and a story quite unlike anything we've eseen before. Does it work? That's for you to decide.

Remember the clever puns used on The Flintsones whenever a contemporary figure appeared in Bedrock? David does, and at Comfort TV he recalls one of the best-known and most-loved examples, that of Ann Margrock, alias Ann-Margret, and the sweet lullaby she sings to baby Pebbles. It's the essence of what comfort TV is all about.

At Cult TV Blog, John continues his series on TV episodes related to the circus, with "From Out of the Rain," from the Doctor Who spinoff Torchwood. The episode itself is reminiscent of the 1970s series Saphire and Steel, and while it's not a particularly popular episode of the series, John suggests it's well-worth checking out.

Finally, at the Broadcast Archives, a look at futurist Hugo Gernsbank (afther whom the science fiction Hugos are named) displaying, among other things, what might be the world's first portable television set, called "teleyeglasses"—so small that you actually wear it. Talk about total immersion!  TV  

Around the dial

Whenever we'd go to Chicago, we'd always include in our stops a trip to the Museum of Broadcast Communications, one of my favorite museums. The Broadcast Archives has the story of how the MBC has been forced out of its home; hopefully, this won't be the end of the line for them.  

At Classic Film & TV Cafe, Rick shares seven things to know about The Jimmy Stewart Show, the 1971-72 comedy that marked the star's first foray into series television. As was the case with so many 1970s series fronted by major movie stars, the show lasted a single season, so here's your chance to learn more about it.

The Hitchcock Project continues at bare-bones e-zine, with Jack beginning his look at the teleplays of Halsted Welles. This week's episode, from the show's fourth season, is "The Dusty Drawer," a revenge story starring Dick York and Philip Coolidge. Not one of my favorites, but Jack's writeup, as always, is spot-on.

Keeping with the Hitchcockian theme, The Last Drive In series on the leading ladies of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour returns with some fine work by Betty Field, Teresa Wright, Kim Hunter, Margaret Leighton, and Juanita Moore. Stand by for extensive episode descriptions and pictures galore!

At The Horn Section, Hal is back in F Troop land with the season one episode "A Fort's Best Friend is Not a Mother," and the mother in question is Captain Parmenter's own. How do O'Rourke and Agarn get the Captain out of this jam and preserve the good thing they've got going with O'Rourke Enterprises? Don't worry; they're up for the challenge.

Hammer House of Horror is always good for a chill or two, and at Realweegiemidget, Gill takes us through the chilling "Children of the New Moon," with a terrific performance by British film star Diana Dors as the "far too helpful and friendly" woman we always know we should be wary of.

One of the things I always appreciated about Columbo was that the show didn't skimp on big stars in supporting parts—not just the killer, but smaller roles as well. This week, at Once Upon a Screen, Aurora focuses on those murderers, with five movie stars turned Columbo killers. Not that they actually killed Columbo—you get the point.

Cult TV Blog makes a rare trip across the Atlantic as John reviews the Kojak episode "The Chinatown Murders," a terrific two-hour episode in which Theo Kojak has to deal with a Mafia war in Chinatown, including plenty of twists and turns. 

One of the more interesting aspects of domestic sitcoms is the architecture of the family home. While most of them were similar in construction, Terence looks at a couple of exceptions at A Shroud of Thoughts: the homes seen in The Real McCoys and Dobie Gillis. Find out what makes these homes unusual.

Speaking of Dobie Gillis, at Travalanche, Trav looks at the many shows of its star, Dwayne Hickman. Thanks to the aforementioned Horn Section, we know Dwayne from Love That Bob as well as Dobie, but you'll be able to see a long list of credits here.

And where would we be without a look at The Avengers, a show which is about to reappear on our personal weekly viewing schedule. At The View from the Junkyard, Roger and Mike take turns on the sci-fi flavored "Man-Eater of Surrey Green," with Steed and Mrs. Peel battling man-eating plants.

There—that should give you all something to chew on, so to speak. TV  

Around the dial

It's 1964, the start of the third season of The Saint, and at Silver Scenes, it's a look at that episode, "The Miracle Tea Party," a delightful episode that serves as an entry in that "Favorite TV Show Episode" blogathon I was talking about on Wednesday. Be sure to check them out; maybe I'll have another chance next year!

Here's another entry from that blogathon—at Once Upon a Screen, Aurora takes us back to a Columbo episode that, I think, ranks near the top in everyone's list of favorites: "Any Old Port in a Storm," with a terrific performance by the always-outstanding Donald Pleasence as the murderous winery owner, and Gary Conway as his deceased brother. I always enjoy this one.

And since Terence at A Shroud of Thoughts is hosting the blogathon, I'd be remiss if I didn't highlight his contribution as well. It's "Home," a 1996 episode of The X-Files, that is truly disturbing, not least because the story occurs not in the big city, but in a small town (the sheriff is even named Andy Taylor, though not that one), and it brings the horror—home.

John's latest entry in his 1980s TV series retrospective at Cult TV Blog is the excellent series Mapp and Lucia, based on the equally respected novels by E.F. Benson. and the episode "Lobster Pots." There have been two versions of the series, so if you want see what John's raving about, be sure to look for the 1985 version.

At Comfort TV, David brings his trip through 1971 television to a close with a look at Saturday night, and again I have to stress how Saturday used to be a killer night for television: All in the Family, Funny Face, The New Dick Van Dyke Show, Mary Tyler Moore, and Mission: Impossible were CBS's dominant lineup, but there were some others to check out, including The Persuaders (sorry, David).

We're coming up on Holy Week, which means it's a good time to review a series called Greatest Heroes of the Bible (a series that could never be aired on broadcast television today), and at Drunk TV, Paul looks at volume two of this 1978-79 series, with a collection of episodes dealing with "God's Chosen Ones." I only hope I'll get to be one.

The Broadcast Archives has a brief pictoral look back at Carol Burnett back in the late 1950s or early 1960s, and aside from the pictures, it's a good reminder that next month she turns 90, and if that makes you feel old, then just  go back and watch more of her shows, forget about your problems, and have some fun.

Some more promising news from Television Obscurities, where Robert reports that ClassicFlix, which has brought back several rare series via DVD, has another one in store come June: 21 Beacon Street, a detective drama with Dennis Morgan. I confess that I don't know anything about it other than recognizing the titles from TV Guide, so it could be interesting.

Cult TV Lounge revisits the 1976 limited anthology series Beasts, which draws its credibility from its cxreator, Nigel Kneale, who is responsible for the legendary British sci-fi series of the 1950s, Quatermass. Sounds like it's well worth watching—and by the way, Kneale is responsible also for a British TV movie that you'll be reading about in a future "Descent into Hell" essay.

At Shadow & Substance, Paul visits an unlikely suburb of TZ; "The Hound of Heaven," a short dramatic sketch written by Earl Hamner Jr. for The Kate Smith Hour in 1953 (I didn't even know that show had dramatic sketches.) and has a cast including John Carradine and a very young James Dean. The story would become the bases for the third season TZ episode "The Hunt." TV  

Around the dial

A few months ago, I delved into the history of early British television, lighting on the BBC's "first identifiable drama," Murder in the Cathedral, which aired in 1936. This week at Cult TV Blog, John goes back even further, to 1933, and The Crooked Circle: the first film ever broadcast on commercial TV.

The Broadcasting Archives links to this interesting article at Variety on why, with traditional television less important and the schedules more fluid than ever, the Fall Season still matters. I can't remember the last time I checked out the first episode of a series I might be interested in watching, but then I'm different that way.

At The Horn Section, James Garner's Bret Maverick finds himself in "A Flock of Trouble," and Hal is here to tell us how he gets out of it, in this 1960 episode that includes the lovely Myrna Fahey as the best-looking cattle owner around.

Jordan's back to review the July/August 1983 issue of The Twilight Zone Magazine at The Twilight Zone Vortex, including an interview with H.P. Lovecraft (and his short story "Something About Cats," and a review of Natalie Wood's last movie, Brainstorm, with Christopher Walken, Louise Fletcher and Cliff Robertson.

Staying in the Zone for a moment, at Shadow & Substance, Paul looks at the 1962 episode "The Fugitive," and asks why it makes some fans uneasy, and whether they're right to feel that way. It points out, as Paul says, how different things can look when one views them from a 21st century perspective, and why this can be problematic for classic TV.

There's nothing better than discovering a forgotten show, and at Comfort TV, David is back with another installment of "Ten Forgotten Shows I'd Like to Watch." This edition covers the 1970s, and includes four shows I actually remember, though I don't know why. Raymond Burr as Kingston: Confidential? Yes, indeed.

Can it really be 50 years since the premiere of Columbo? You bet it can, and Terence is all over it at A Shroud of Thoughts. I, of all people, should know that television has been around a long time, and yet when you look at how crisp and alive these shows look, it just doesn't seem they could be that old. After all, that would make me even older. TV  

What I've been watching: March, 2021

Shows I’ve Watched:
Columbo China: The Roots of Madness
The Best of Ernie Kovacs

W'e've been a little short on new programs here at the Hadley network the last month or so. Or perhaps I should rephrase that; after all, strictly speaking, there's never much new television here, but I respect all of you enough to assume that you know what I mean. It's that right now we're in the midst of a succession of long-running series, which means there hasn't been that much turnover lately. And while a documentary such as David L. Wolper's China: The Roots of Madness is engrossing and terrifying and reminds you that Communist China is and always has been (and always will be) a threat to the rest of the world, the 90 minutes doesn't go very far in filling up the dance card. 

Some of our regular shows are wrapping up in the next few weeks, though (Cannon, The Best of Ernie Kovacs, T.H.E. Cat), and while this may or may not fill you with excitement, it does mean more work for me the next time this feature returns. 

At any rate, the topic this month is Columbo, and there are several takes you can have on this series, each one about as good as the next, unless your take is that it's not any good, in which case you would be dead wrong, deader than the corpse at the center of each week's episode.

The take I'm going to take, if that makes sense, is that Columbo is the direct anthesis of the kind of show I was writing about last week. In case you've forgotten, and I wouldn't blame you if you had, last week I was ranting about episodes that put a main character into what I called "false jeopardy," that is, a situation that you already know is a bogus threat, given that character is contractually obligated to return next week. The end result, if that plot point takes up the whole episode, is that it becomes a waste of time, since it's virtually impossible to sustain the suspense of false jeopardy for the better part of an hour.  

There was, I suggested, a show that mastered this abiility, and in fact turned it into an asset, a signature that made it one of the most watchable shows on television. And this is that show. 

Columbo wasn't a whodunnit, or even a how'd-he-do-it, since we got to see the presumptive murderer plan and execute their sinister scheme right at the start, before we even met the title character. You'd think, given the number of mysteries where we're shown the killer's shoes (or back, or shadow), all in an attempt to keep their identity secret, that this would be a fatal flaw. But that never happens in Columbo, in large part because of the superior writing, casting, directing, and acting, especially in the case of Peter Falk. Yes, I know Bing Crosby was originally offered the role; yes I know that several actors have played Lieutenant Columbo on stage (and even on TV, in 1960's The Chevy Mystery Show), which makes sense considering the original pilot first saw life as a play. Even so, Peter Falk is Columbo, and to imagine anyone else playing it is—well, it's really impossible to imagine, given how totally Falk left his stamp on the character.

When you add Falk to a mix that already includes, as creators, Richard Levinson and William Link; writers like Steven Bochco; directors like Steven Spielberg; and a guest cast that reads like a good year of nominees at the Academy Awards, you've got a pretty good chance of having a pretty good show. And not just the first time you watch it, or the next two or three times; Columbo has to be one of the most watchable mysteries television has ever produced.

One of the reasons it's so watchable, no matter how many times you've seen it, is that it doesn't matter that you know how it turns out; you knew it from the very beginning. Removing this distraction allows you to concentrate on other aspects of the show, such as the subtlety of Columbo's investigation: that moment when he knows who the killer is (usually by the time he's done looking around the scene of the crime); his dogged assembly of the evidence he needs for a conviction; the cat-and-mouse game he plays with the killer throughout the episode; and the coup de grace, when he lowers the boom on the guilty party, who turns out not only to have grossly underestimated the lieutenant's intelligence, but to have grossly overestimated his own. 

You watch it again, and notice how Columbo conducts his investigation like a grand master surveying the chessboard, deciding what he's going to reveal and when, in order to achieve the maximum impact. Every time he uses that trademark "Just one more thing," it usually winds up with him dropping a minor bomb on the suspect just as he heads out the door. In fact, you don't even have to be the suspect to experience the Columbo style; in "The Greenhouse Jungle," he's dealing with an unfaithful wife whose husband, after staging his own kidnapping, turns up dead (murdered by his uncle and co-conspirator, Ray Milland). As she and her tanned hunk of a lover are about to go for a sail. Columbo, stepping off the boat, tells her that, by the way, her late husband had confided to his secretary that his wife's boyfriend had offered to leave town in return for $50,000. I'll bet that was a chilly boat trip. 

You watch it again and listen to Columbo go off on seemingly unrelated tangets about his wife, nephew, or brother-in-law—people who may or may not be real, and may or may not have said what Columbo has them saying; but by putting words in their mouth rather than his own, he's able to make his point from an oblique angle, accusing without actually accusing. That's about when it begins to dawn on the suspect that Columbo isn't the fool he makes himself out to be, and it creates more unforced errors than the bullying tactics of many a detective on one of today's proceduals.

You watch it again, and you appreciate the relationship between Columbo and his suspect. Most of the time Columbo regards his suspect with a cool aloofness, a respect that belies what he may or may not be thinking. On occasion, as in episodes with Donald Pleasence and Johnny Cash, there's the sense that Columbo has genuine sympathy for the killer, that there's a mutual respect between the two. It's as if Columbo knows that this person has committed the only murder he'll ever commit—still a killer, to be sure, but also a victim of the human condition. Remember the scene at the conclusion of "Any Old Port in a Storm," when Columbo and Adrian Carsini (Pleasence) share a glass of wine? Magic, and a moment of humanity.

And then there are those times, as with Gene Barry or Leonard Nimoy, when Columbo displays a real animus, a determination not only to get the killer, but to let that killer know he's going to get hm. That's when Columbo drops all pretense and addresses the killer with—pardon the expression—deadly seriousness. No more games. The jig is up. I know exactly what you did. It's both thrilling and terrifying: thrilling for us, terrifying for them. Damn, but it's satisfying.

Every time you watch Columbo, there's always one more thing you notice about it, and that's why it never gets old. There is no "false jeopardy," no concern that the lieutenant won't get his man (or woman; there were plenty of them, too), no waiting around impatiently for the inevitable ending that everyone knows is coming. It's a cliché, but in this case it's also true: the pleasure is not just in the destination, but the journey itself. TV  

Around the dial

At GQ, Jason Diamond kicks things off this week with the story of how Columbo became "an unlikely quarantine hit." Turns out it's just the ticket for these strange times, as longtime fans and newcomers alike enjoy the show's many pleasures. 

Peter Falk isn't the only crowd-pleasing detective on TV; at Comfort TV, David says a good word (or several, really) on behalf of Banacek and the art of the locked-room mystery. Was there anyone smoother than George Peppard, with his turtlenecks, long cigars, and confidence to burn?

At Bob Crane: Life & Legacy, Carol and Linda set the record straight on Bob's appearance on the 1978 Canadian show Celebrity Cooks, which took place just months before his death in 1978. Odds are, whatever you've seen or heard up to now is wrong.

The Twilight Zone Vortex returns to the world of The Twilight Zone Magazine, as Jordan looks at the second anniversary edition from 1983, with, among other features, a batch of short stories, an interview with Colin Wilson, and Richard Matheson's teleplay for the classic “A World of His Own.”

Let's stay in the Zone at Shadow & Substance, with an in-depth look at one of the two dozen teleplays (out of 92!) which Rod Serling' adapted from other sources: 1963's "The Old Man in the Cave," starring James Coburn, based on a short story by Henry Slesar. 

At The Horn Section, Hal writes well of James Hampton, best known as F Troop's Private Hannibal Shirley Dobbs, who died last week at age 84. A wonderful actor, who appeared in many roles both comedic and dramatic.

I grew up in Minneapolis, but Minnesota KidVid has a story of a local kids' show of which I have absolutely no memory: "Sunday Storybook," with Barbara DeValerio, which aired circa 1966 to 1968. Too bad there's no video on it.

And in case you're wondering, the current violence in the Twin Cities is closer to us than the riots from last year, but still far enough away that we're safe. For this week, anyway. Glad I've already got tomorrow's TV Guide ready for you! TV