This week in TV Guide: April 12, 1969

What's with the talk about the Academy Awards, you're thinking. Weren't they on TV last month? Why is TV Guide bringing it up now, in the middle of April?

Well, that's the way it used to be, back in the days when the only significant movie awards show besides the Oscars was the Golden Globes, and those were confined to an hour-long broadcast on The Andy Williams Show. Back then, the Oscarcast was held in early April, usually on a Monday night, and it was the only awards show for most people. Now, it's just one of many, and soon it won't even be on commercial TV, just YouTube.

Dwight Whitney's take on the Oscars concerns the revamping of the show, under the direction of famed Broadway choreographer Gower Champion. It's been an uphill climb for Champion, who's had to deal with the conservative Board of Governors of the Motion Picture Academy, a group that has "always considered jazzing up Oscar tantamount to jazzing up the Lord’s Prayer." For them, the the one and only important thing about the show is "The Walk," that "interminable walk to the podium" taken by the winners. As producer and former Academy president Arthur Freed says, "It's the World Series. I don't care what you say, it's who's going to win the ball game. The drama is The Walk." William Dozier dryly notes that "The big question is, does the winner kiss his wife or his girl friend when he hears the thrilling news?"Joe Pasternak, producer of three of the most recent Oscarcasts, predicts that "Gower will regret the day he took it on. They will stop him from having a great show. They control the costs."

Nonetheless, after taking five months to consider the Academy's offer, Chamption decided to take on the challenge. And take it on he has. Bob Hope has been replaced as host (Hope said, "Thank God," when Champion boached the subject with him), to be replaced by ten "Friends of Oscar*" who will share the emcee duties. The venue has changed, from the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Los Angeles, and the look will be entirely different; "The customary white-fluted columns and classical-garden settings would give way to elaborate rear-projection effects, slides, clips, silhouettes, mirrors, multiple images on  multiple screens and sets that fly apart and change their conformation at will." 

*Ingrid Bergman, Diahann Carroll, Tony Curtis (replacing Warren Beatty), Jane Fonda, Burt Lancaster, Walter Matthau, Sidney Poitier, Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, and Natalie Wood.

And that's not all. The dress code has been relaxed, with black tie replacing white tie and tails. Champion even proposes getting rid of the bleachers outside the auditorium, where the fans gather to watch the stars walk down the red carpet, but that was going too far in the eyes of many, and Champion eventually relented.

Whitney expresses an appropriate level of skepticism regarding Champion's plans. After all, the Academy Awards are now "an electronic monster which no one seems able to control on any level." (Boy, some things really don't change.) But, in the end, the broadcast comes off pretty well. It's one of the longer broadcasts in recent years, checking in at what now would be considered a svelte two hours and 33 minutes, but it brings in good ratings, along with some surprise winners, and Champion is accorded a standing ovation when he arrives at the after-broadcast party. As stagnant and dull as recent broadcasts have been, it's a pity we don't have another Gower Champion waiting somewhere in the wings. And let's be honest: none of the recent hosts have been any "friends of Oscar."

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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.

Many of us may have been tempted, over the past few years, to ask the question, "What's It All About, World?" (The answer is not "Alfie.") This week, Cleveland Amory asks the same question, but without the existential angst that the question merits today. It is, instead, ABC's "Second Season" variety show, hosted by Dean Jones, which Cleve describes as "a kind of Thinking Man's Laugh-In." (A low hurdle to clear, perhaps, but still...) 

Most of us are familiar with Jones from his many appearances in Walt Disney movies over the years, and he gives us a different host than we've become used to, "both charmingly different and genuinely diffident—and that, these days, is difficult." He's also backed by a cast of regulars including comedian Scoey Mitchell, singer Gerri Granger, news commentator Alex Dreier, and the comedy team of Jenna McMahon and Dick Clair. The show has boasted an impressive guest lineup as well, with the Smothers Brothers, Martin Landau and Barbara Bain, Carl Reiner, Barbara Feldon, Alice Ghostley, and Art Carney. Skits tend to be geared toward current events, and they don't shy away from controversial issues in their comedy bits. (Amory notes that previous topics have included overpopulation, obscene children’s books, the "obsolescence" of husbands, and exclusive country clubs taking on minority members. This suggests that Laugh-In isn't the only apt comparison; one might also suggest that the network learned its lessons after the fiasco of Turn On.)

Unfortunately for those who like What's It All About, World?, it's on ABC. And ABC, as Cleve says, has employed a unique strategy toward their second season, which appears to have been, "put out a whole barrage of new midseason shows, then decided to take them—literally before anyone even knew they were on—off." The network, he says, used ratings as an excuse, but "It would have taken a pretty nimble Nielsener just to keep these shows straight, let alone rate them." Before too long, What's It All About, World? becomes The Dean Jones Variety Hour, and after a total of thirteen weeks, it takes on a title that's all too common to ABC series of the day: cancelled.

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No "Sullivan vs. The Palace" this week, even though we're in the right era for it.  And for once, it's not a preemption of The Hollywood Palace that causes it. No, it's Ed who's preempted this week, in favor of Dick Van Dyke's variety special, Dick Van Dyle and the Other Woman, billed as "a program of music, dance and comedy," featuring the "other woman"—Mary Tyler Moore, the two of them together again after the success of their famed sitcom. (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., CBS) THe special is co-produced by Bill Persky and Sam Denoff, the same pair that used to do the series. Says the preview, "The two stars and the two producers hope to produce again the chemistry that once resulted in television success for them." Did they succeed? Well, you don't think I'd ask that question unless you were able to check it out for yourself and draw your own conclusions.

And that's not the only special on Sunday evening. NBC, wisely, scheduled a Dinah Shore special to follow Dick Van Dyke, rather than go head-to-head (9:00 p.m.). Will wonders never cease? It's called "Like Hep," and features an all-star lineup of guests: Lucille Ball, Dan Rowan and Dick Martin, and Diana Ross; and cameos from Tom and Dick Smothers, Lorne Greene, Greg Morris, Victor Buono, and Elisha Cook Jr. You can also see this special and decide, as I often say, who's better, who's best.

But in case you were curious, Saturday night's Palace (9:30 p.m., ABC) is hosted by Diahann Carroll, with her guests, Richard Harris; Mort Sahl, the Checkmates, Ltd., and her young co-stars from Julia, Marc Copage and Michael Link. And yes, this episode exists as well. Can't beat YouTube, can you?

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It's a new era for Major League Baseball, with the two leagues expanding to twelve teams each, the creation of two divisions in each league, and the advent of playoffs between the division winners prior to the World Series. Some would argue that the game hasn't been the same since. (I'd say that it still had a few decades to go before "baseball" evolved into a completely different sport, but the point is well-taken.) The changes are immediately apparent in the season premiere of NBC's Game of the Week, with the San Francisco Giants taking on the expansion San Diego Padres (Saturday, noon PT)—or, depending on where you're located, the game between the Boston Red Sox and Cleveland Indians. 

Sunday continues the sports spectacular, with the final round of the Masters golf tournament (1:00 p.m., CBS). Among the star-studded field, it's unheralded George Archer who comes away with the famed green jacket, finishing one stroke ahead of Billy Casper, George Knudson, and Tom Weiskopf to win his only major championship. And in honor of baseball's opening, CBS reruns one of the oldest, yet least remembered, of the Peanuts specials, Charle Brown's All-Stars. (7:30 p.m., CBS). The special, which premiered in 1966, was an annual feature on CBS until 1972, and made its last appearance on the network in 1982. There was a big promo effort for the cartoon when it first came out; I remember the baseball caps with the "Charlie Brown's All-Stars" logo on the front, and there was a book version of the special (differing slightly from the televised version). In the story, a company offers to sponsor Charlie Brown's team and provide them with real uniforms, but there's a catch: no girls and no dogs allowed on the team. Charlie Brown refuses the offer and then tells the team about it (without telling them why he turned the sponsor down). Predictably, they heap abuse on him until Linus and Schroeder step up to defend Charlie Brown, berating the girls for attacking him. The idea of making females the heavies, along with the dated concept of girls not playing baseball, probably accounts for its disappearance from the rotation.

In addition to the Academy Awards, the Monkees return to the airwaves Monday night in "a superpsychedelic hour" with the Brian Auger Trinity, featuring Julie Driscoll; Fats Domino; Jerry Lee Lewis; Little Richard; the Clara Ward Singers; the Buddy Miles Express; We Three; and Paul Arnold and the Moo. The special isn't named, but it's the infamous 33⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee (8:00 p.m., NBC), which, according to the always-reliable Wikipedia, was "chaotic, both on-screen and off-screen," and which Mike Nesmith described as the television version of their equally infamous movie Head.  The network was said to have been so disappointed by the result that it scheduled the West Coast telecast opposite ABC's live broadcast of the Oscars. (It was seen two hours before the Oscars in most areas.) It would be the final time the Monkees performed as a quartet until 1986. There's also a Carol Channing special (9:00 p.m., ABC, time approximate), which follows the Oscars on the West Coast but was seen prior to the show everywhere else; Danny Thomas and Carol Burnett are Miss Channing's guests.

Tuesday features a repeat of the TV-movie Prescription: Murder (9:00 p.m., NBC), with Gene Barry, whom we loved as a millionaire cop in Burke's Law, playing a doctor who's killed his wife and plans to run off with his mistress. The only problem is when he runs into a particularly dogged detective who won't give up. He's played by Peter Falk and his name is Columbo. It would be wrong to call this a pilot in the strictest sense; another Columbo telemovie will follow, this one with Lee Grant, and the decision to turn it into a series is technically because of that movie. But all the goods are here already, as is the pleasure in watching it unfold. Interestingly enough, Judith Crist wasn't all that thrilled with it, calling it "one of last season’s tailored-for-television contrivances that proves that a pedestrian but tidy one-hour melodrama can’t be stretched into a two-hour movie without stultifying all concerned. Peter Falk, as a persistent cop, is the major, but intermittent, relief." She's right about one thing: Columbo, as a series, was almost always better at the 90-minute length than when stretched into two hours.

Wednesday sees the Beverly Hillbillies, accompanied by Drysdale and Miss Hathaway, heading to London for four episodes, starting this week (9:00 p.m., CBS). This was a popular trope back in the day; stars from Lucille Ball to Danny Thomas to Jack Benny would do episodes from London; Jack Paar did a week's worth of shows from there, as did Today. I wonder, though, given what London has become over the last few years, if it would be quite as popular a location shoot today? Meanwhile, Oliver and Lisa chaperone Arnold the Pig to Hollywood, a much safer (in some ways) location, in the second of a two-part story that sees the pig in the running to appear in a movie. I didn't realize Babe was a remake... (9:30 p.m., CBS)

Thursday, Bob Hope make his final appearance of the season (8:30 p.m., NBC), with an eclectic cast that includes Patti Page, Jack Nicklaus, Sergio Mendes and Brasil ‘66, and Bob‘s newest leading ladies: Jane Wyman, Maureen Arthur, and Tina Louise. The telemovie feature is entitled U.M.C., which stands for University Medical Center and is the pilot for a new fall series. (9:00 p.m., CBS) The movie stars Richard Bradford as Dr. Joe Gannon, with James Daly as his colleague and mentor, Dr. Paul Lochner. Daly, father of future TV-star Tyne Daly, stays with the project when it becomes a series, but Bradford, whom we recognize from the British import Man With a Suitcase, is replaced by Chad Everett when the series, now called Medical Center, makes its debut in September of 1969. The movie wasn't available for preview, but Judith Crist praises the cast, which features Edward G. Robinson, Kevin McCarthy, Maurice Evans, J.D. Cannon, William Windom, and Kim Stanley.

Usually, when a television series appears in a movie slot, it's because the producers took two or more episodes and combined them into a feature-length presentation, but such does not appear to be the case on Friday, when Roger Moore returns as Simon Templar, aka The Saint, in a regular one-hour story in which our hero carries out the last wishes of a notorious gangster: stage a gold robbery that will implicate his four greatest enemies. (10:00 p.m., NBC). Given that reruns of The Saint appear in this timeslot for the next several weeks, I suspect this was nothing more than a typo. It only appears on the San Francisco affiliate, KRON, though; KCRA, the Sacramento NBC affiliate, has Playboy After Dark (10:00 p.m.), with Bill Cosby, Don Rickles, attorney Melvin Belli, Doug McClure, Robert Fuller, the Checkmates, Ltd., and Kelley Garrett.

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By the way, do you find yourselves wondering if any of those shows would have been worth watching? Well, if it were up to Dr. Frank Stanton, you'd have a little more information to go by when making your viewing decisions. In The Doan Report, Richard K. Doan reports that Stanton, the president of CBS, is advocating giving TV critics a chance to review shows before they're broadcast, ostensibly to warn of content that might seem "too risque or violent for younger audiences."  The other networks, NBC and ABC, are aghast at the idea; "Stanton is way out on a limb," one rival says "What are sponsors and their agencies going to say the first time the critics blast a CBS show before anybody else has seen it?"

Many think Stanton is overreacting to the latest Congressional push against TV violence, and with talk of a ratings system continuing to grow, it may be that Stanton is proposing advance screenings as an alternative. But when a CBS spokesman is asked when the previewing will start, he says not before next fall. And as for NBC and ABC, "the betting was it'll never happen."

In this case, I think we can say "never" didn't last quite as long as those networks might have thought. With a few exceptions, most shows have been made available for preview for quite some time now; even in the case of streaming series, critics (and other influencers) are often given the first three or four episodes in order to prime the pumps, so to speak. And it really is difficult to remember a time when this wasn't the case; after all, without previews from the critics, how else would we know what to watch?

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I've written about Garry Moore many times in the past, as well as devoted a full episode of the "American TV History" episode to talking about him. And there's a good reason why. At one time, Garry Moore had logged more hours in front of a television camera than anyone in history. In 1963 he was the highest paid entertainer on television, making $43,000 a week, and at the time of Paul Wilkes's article this week, he's still pulling in about $200,000 a year, for doing nothing.

And therein lies the rub. In a 1966 TV Guide profile, Moore talked about wanting to do something "new and different" from his variety and game show host duties. Three years later, we get a closer look at the fall of Moore's career. He's bored, to be blunt about it. He's still under contact to CBS, and despite that huge salary he's getting, CBS doesn't have (or doesn't want to have) anything for him to do. Although he insists there are joys in his life (even though he doesn't name them), he laments that "I don't want a leftover life to lead." But the fan mail has disappeared, he's seldom recognized anymore when he walks down the street, and the man who once had a radio show and two television series now has more time on his hands than he can count.

It's really a rather sad article. Although he's only 54, he's aged dramatically in the two-plus years since his last CBS show went off the air; one executive says he looks closer to 70. Moore wants to work, but nobody's interested in him; they tell him he appeals to the wrong demographic. He'd like to do something substantial, "like CBS Reports," but the network doesn't mingle its news and entertainment divisions, and while he's under contract to CBS he's prohibited from appearing on other networks without their permission. He's about to start a stint as host of the syndicated To Tell the Truth, which he'll stay with until 1977, and he's making guest appearances on shows like The Carol Burnett Show, but it's just not the same thing. He says he's not bitter, just that "I'd like to be used somehow."

Garry Moore was a unique figure in television. He wasn't a singer, although he could sing, and wasn't an actor, although he could act). Mostly, he played himself, on his variety show as well as his long run hosting I've Got a Secret, and he did it better than anyone else. He was friendly and avuncular, and he put viewers at ease as they watched him, making them feel like his friends.  But as we know, the times are changing; CBS isn't far away from the "Rural Purge," and the people who have grown old with television are now seen as being too old for television.  As the song at the end of Wilkes's article puts it, "oh, how the years have flown."

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An interesting editorial on the front page makes a humorous point about how the years have flown: the editors declaim the state of modern language, and the new catch phrases that dominate: "hang-up," "blow your mind," "generation gap," "tell it like it is," and more.  "Are you up-tight about the language of the acid heads, the teeny-boppers and the flower children?" they ask. "Would you, in short, think it groovy if the English language were discovered to be alive and well and living in the United States—its old turf?"

Humorous, as I say, but making a point. "We are brought to a state of nausea whenever we hear or read one of these banal or crude or cloddish substitutes for thinking that are so horribly ubiquitous these days in broadcasting and in print." I wonder if you couldn't make the same sort of statement today? We don't write or even think in words so much anymore—it's more likely the strange pig-Latin language of texting, with its abbreviations, concepts, half-thoughts, and emojis. Such is the life of a post-literate society, though. And it has consequences, which we see play out today with ever-increasing frequency: "people talking about commitment and value judgments" which they use as weapons against those who have the temerity to disagree with them.

Although we're all about television here, we're also about language, especially the written word. I find there's a great deal of eloquence in writing about TV, even though I may only capture a fraction of its potential. Television, and its history, has painted a vast panoply of imagery over the years, which words are uniquely suited to describe. It's ironic, in that television is mostly a visual medium, one that's been blamed by many for leading to the death of the written word. And yet millions of words have been, and continue to be, written about it, words oftentimes more powerful than those images they describe. And as long as I'm writing about it, I intend to keep looking for the beauty in those words, as well as the pictures which accompany them.

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MST3K alert: Agent for H.A.R.M. (English; 1966) Tale of a creeping blob from outer space that transforms human flesh into fungus. Mark Richman, Wendell Corey, Carl Esmond. (Saturday, 11:30 p.m., KPIX in San Francisco) Peter Mark Richman, Wendell Corey: what are you doing here? H.A.R.M. was, apparently, initially supposed to serve as a pilot for a new series, but wound up in theatrical release instead. My favorite review comes from The New York Times, which called it an "anemic James Bond imitation." I don't believe this is currently part of the MST3K episodes that run on TV; all-in-all, probably a good thing. TV

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Around the dial

It's kind of sobering to sit here, with the anticipation for Christmas rising, and realize that a week from now, the big day will have come and gone (though the Christmas season will continue throughout the 12 days). Have no fear, though; there's still plenty to read about in the meantime. It's a light week, as weeks go (I can't understand why anyone would be busy with anything else. . .) but, as always, the quality is high.

At RealWeegieMidget, Gill commemorates the 100th anniversary of Richard Burton's birth by looking at three of his movies with wife Elizabeth Taylor, including the made-for-TV movies Divorce His/Divorce Hers. This was quite the coup for ABC's Movie of the Week when it was announced, to significant fanfare.

John's official Cult TV Blog Christmas post is here, as he focuses on the BBC children's anthology series Shadows, and the episode "The Waiting Room," which may be a ghost story, or it may be a time-slip story; either way, it's a perfect ghost story for Christmas.

At Mavis Movie Madness!, Paul continues the Christmas theme with a look at 1980's Yogi's First Christmas, which brings everyone's favorite bear together with many other Hanna-Barbera characters for a Yuletide story that's still plenty pleasing to watch.

Rick celebrates the end of the year with his annual review of his most-read posts of the year at Classic Film & TV Cafe. It's hard to limit them to ten, because Rick offers some of the most thoughtful and informative (not to mention fun) posts about classic movies and television.

I know that YouTube has something for everyone, but I'd never known there was a channel devoted to "Sandwiches of History." Well, I know now, thanks to Bob Sassone, who challenged the channel to try a sandwich made by one of our favorite TV dads, Ward Cleaver at Leave It to Beaver.

At Comfort TV, David honors the most recent losses in the world of classic TV in a year that's seen far too many of them. Fortunately, Terence balances this out at A Shroud of Thoughts with a tribute to Dick Van Dyke, who hit the century mark this week.

Finally, you've probably read about the Academy Awards moving to YouTube in 2029. There are a lot of jokes going around about this, so it's futile for me to even try and add to it, but it demonstrates in a pretty dramatic way how far out of the public consciousness the Oscars have fallen. Yes, I know streaming is the future, and the future is increasingly now, but still, considering the memorable moments the show has been responsible for in the past, it's kind of sad to see how unimportant it has become to television—or, for that matter, how unimportant movie theaters have become. But today's movies are, for the most part, so far out of mainstream interest that one can hardly be surprised. This isn't all bad news, however; perhaps now there can be an Oscarcast without Jimmy Kimmel as host. And that would be further proof, if we needed it, that God exists and wants us to be happy. TV

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

Around the dial

This week begins at the Broadcast Archives where we get another poignant display of a time when technology was viewed in a more benign light than today: the 1964 World's Fair pavilion, where RCA has color television on display.

The bad news: Jack's regular Hitchcock Project is now concluding at bare•bones e-zine, with a wrapup where you can find links to all the posts, covering every episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour! The good news: next year the book comes out! I've already got something to look forward to!

Here's something else to look forward to, if you're a fan of The Dick Van Dyke Show: at Comfort TV, David gives us ten reasons to love the episode "Bupkis," which is seldom mentioned as a fan favorite, but after reading this, see if he won't change your mind.

At Cult TV Blog, Jack takes us to the anthology series Six Plays by Alan Bennett, and "One Fine Day," starring Irish comedian Dave Allen, in a rare dramatic role, as a commercial estate agent faced with a breaking point in his life, who finds a unique way of coping.

Talk about an identity crisis: this week at RealWeegieMidget, Gill (and her Darlin Husband) offer us a double dose of Patrick Duffy in "Shoot-Out at Land’s End," an episode from The Man From Atlantis that involves said man and his doppelganger. Unless we find out it was all a dream. . . 

Forced labor, smuggled across the border from Mexico (with all its ethical implications), is more than just ripped from today's headlines; it's the theme of this week's A-Team episode, "Bad Time on the Border," which Roger reviews at The View from the Junkyard.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence takes us back to happier times with a look at some vintage fall television promos. There are many of these on YouTube, dating back to the 1960s, and some of us remember highlights from those years, such as NBC Week. Good times.

Finally, it just wouldn't be a normal day here at It's About TV without some kind of self-promotion, so here's the link to the latest episode of American TV with Mitchell Hadley, in which Dan Schneider and I discuss American television in the 1990s. Ring any bells with you? TV

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

This week in TV Guide: December 8, 1962

You remember those programs Fred Friendly used to do on PBS, where he'd ask a panel of distinguished experts from a variety of fields how they'd react to various situations. The ensuing discussion and debate made for fascinating television, as people wrestled with ethical questions that didn't have any easy answers. As Friendly himself often said, "These programs are 'evergreens.' The issues they explore don’t fade away."

My attention this week is drawn to a question that I think Fred Friendly would have found fascinating. It's the basis of an episode of The Dick Powell Show called "The Court-Martial of Captain Wycliff" (Tuesday, 8:30 p.m., NBC) with a big-name cast including Powell, Dina Merrill, Ed Begley, Robert Webber, Edward Andrews, James MacArthur, and Alexander Scourby. 

As the Close-Up says, "murder is really not the issue of the trial. Rather, it is the meaning of the law which is at stake: Can a criminal act—even if politically justifiable—be condoned by our society?" That, I think, is what Friendly would call an "evergreen" situation, an ends-and-means question, elevated to the highest levels of national security. Wycliff believes that the United States is in a "state of war" with the Communists; does this mean that if Closter is about to defect to an enemy country (East Germany, in this case, which really means the Soviet Union), assassinating him is a kind of national self-defense? Is it morally comparable to assassinating Hitler?  

The episode also raises a potentially provocative point during the testimony of General Johanson (Robert Keith), Wycliff's former commanding officer. During the war, Wycliff was trained as an assassin, part of an elite unit sent behind enemy lines to take out specifically designated targets (Germans, I assumed). Johanson describes Wycliff as a sensitive young man with strong beliefs—essentially, the general seems to be saying, the Army took hm and trained him to be a killer, and a very good one. He testifies to this with a suggestion of regret, a question as to the morality of the actions he authorized, and so we wonder: once you've been trained—brainwashed?—in such a way, can you just turn this kind of thing off in peacetime? Should Wycliff be proven guilty, is he even responsible for his actions? Wycliff obviously wouldn't think he'd done anything legally wrong; could his council (Ed Begley) use an insanity defense, claiming that his client's ability to distinguish right from wrong had been altered, perhaps irrecoverably, by his Army training and through no fault of his own?

That in turn leads to all kinds of other potential questions for everyday life. Is there such a thing as preemptive homicide? If you see a man about to kill someone, can you kill him first? What if he merely threatens to kill someone—and does it change things if he's known as someone who does what he says, as opposed to one who's all bluff and bluster? Can someone kill an abortionist to prevent him from performing abortions? Can you kill someone who's guilty of a crime if the state knows, but can't prove, his guilt? You can see how Friendly could easily fill an hour with these questions. Not only are there no easy answers, there's no guarantee that the answer in one situation will be the same as the answer in another. 

Unfortunately, Harry Julian Fink's script fails to deliver on many of these questions; having broached the subject of Wycliff's state of mind with Johanson's testimony, he does nothing to follow up with it. Instead, he offers a carnival sideshow digression, introducing prosecutor Clayborn's (Powell) married sister (Dina Merrill), Wycliff's former lover, who claims that she was in a hotel room with Wycliff at the time of the murder, forcing Clayborn to savage her testimony (and her character) on the stand. (How the defense didn't object to this as a conflict of interest, claiming that Clayborn's attempt to impeach his sister's testimony might have been personally motivated, is anyone's guess.) The story needed to be told on Judd, for the Defense, the kind of show that wasn't afraid of tackling big ideas like this head-on

It's true, as Clayborn says in what amounts to a closing summation rather than a question, that the United States has to stand for something in the eyes of the world and of its own citizens. The rule of law, the rights of the individual, the morality of vigilante justice—but what if the United States itself is responsible for deliberately creating the killer? Regardless of the verdict, regardless of what you think of it, you may well be unsatisfied by the result. (You can see it for yourself here.) Even so, the questions still remain. 

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There's another program that deserves special attention this week, one that captures the very essence of the conflict providing the atmosphere for "The Court-Martial of Captain Wycliff," and does it more successfully.

The construction of the Berlin Wall in August 1961 not only divided a city, it also divided families, friends, and loved ones. When the original barricade went up overnight, it trapped many West Berlin residents on the wrong side, with no way to return to their homes. For one group of courageous students in the West, their answer was to build a tunnel under the Wall. The going was slow, however, and they battled with shifting ground and the constant risk of cave-ins. 

At the same time, NBC News in Berlin was looking for a way to tell the story of the struggles in the divided city in such a way that it would bring home the drama of desperate people willing to risk their lives for freedom. When they found out about the students constructing the tunnel, they had their answer. The network agreed to finance the entire cost of the tunnel's construction—50,000 Deutschmarks—in return for the exclusive film rights to the story. And so was born The Tunnel (Monday, 7:30 p.m., NBC). the story of that dig, and the subsequent escape of more than two dozen men, women and children from East to West Berlin. 

The project was shrouded in secrecy. As NBC's website says in a story about The Tunnel, "Outside of a small production team in Berlin, only the president of NBC News and his assistant knew the details. Corporate lawyers were kept in the dark, the project was never mentioned over the phone and funds were dispersed 'outside the NBC channels,'" providing "tools, food and even an underground rest area for the group of over 40 tunnelers" who worked day and night.

It's an incredible story, as dramatic a demonstration of man's desire for freedom from authoritarianism as any. And best of all, it's not a movie, but the actual event. And yet, it raises questions. In financing the construction of the tunnel, did NBC create the story, or did it merely facilitate it? One could argue that escapes were going to happen anyway, and that the involvement of the network was nothing more than a humanitarian act, a way to tell the world what was going on. On the other hand, would there have been a tunnel, or at least this tunnel, had it not been for NBC? Perhaps more important, does a private company have the right to interfere in foreign affairs? Would it have been different if, say, NBC had bankrolled at attempt to sabotage a Soviet missile facility in order to prevent nuclear war? And by getting involved in the first place, did the network undermine the East German state's authority, thereby taking sides in the Cold War?

The Kennedy administration certainly had questions, worrying that NBC would make tensions between the U.S. and the Soviets even worse. (In fact, The Tunnel had originally been scheduled to air on October 31 but pulled it due to the Cuban Missile Crisis.) Robert F. Kennedy told the network "That was a terrible thing you people did, buying that tunnel." As it happened, the tunnel would collapse from flooding eleven days after 26 people used it to escape. Only then did the East Germans become aware of it.  

Regardless of these questions, The Tunnel is a remarkable documentary, one that tells the story with a drama that could never have been accomplished by a straight news report. It will go on to win three Emmys, including Best Program of the Year, the only documentary to do so. You can see it all here, and you can watch Executive Producer Reuven Frank discuss it here. 

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In the past, you've probably seen me use graphics like the one at the left to document the rising number of holiday specials as we approach Christmas. But this is 1962, and even though there'll only be eleven days until the Big Day by the time we come to the end of the issue, there's nary a Yule special to be seen. Part of this is that Rudolph, Charlie Brown, the Grinch and the like have yet to debut; Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, the first made-for-TV Christmas cartoon, will premiere next Tuesday. It's probably too soon for variety specials, and most weekly series save their holiday-themed episodes for closer to the day.

It's not that people aren't thinking about the season; we see the odd wreath and Santa in various advertisements. But I think today the consumerism—the pressure to buy, buy, buy—starts much earlier. Many years, Rudolph airs in November, prime time to move that merchandise, and often it seems that by the time we get to the last week before Christmas, there's nothing left to show. Commercialism was nothing new; it had already reared its ugly head and been satirized for it in Miracle on 34th Street, but nowadays there are almost as many commercials for extravagant items like cars—things you'd buy for yourself—as there are for other kinds of gifts. Well, about all you can do is ignore it. 

There are a couple of shows worth checking out, though, chief among them the annual holiday presentation of The Wizard of Oz*, once again hosted by Dick Van Dyke and his children (Sunday, 5:00 p.m., CBS). Although the movie itself has nothing to do with Christmas (or any other holiday), it was shown at this time for several years when it first landed on TV. It's billed as a "holiday delight," an event that the whole family can get together and watch. Remember that slightly bitter TV Guide review from Thanksgiving, when CBS was showing (and I wasn't watching) Charlotte's Web? That's what I mean. There's nothing seasonal about it, just that it's a family movie for a family time of the year, and that's what I see here as well. Of course, I have to ask myself if any family still gets together to watch anything on Christmas, or at any other time of the year, or if they're all doing their own thing. Of course they still get together! I'm just a lawn-preserving cynic. 

*I have to think, though, that the land of Oz loses some of its magic by being shown in black-and-white. It wouldn't have happened if it was on NBC.

For good measure, there is one Christmas-themed episode this week, Going My Way (Wednesday, 7:30 p.m., ABC), but it makes sense that it would be shown this early; it's about an ex-con working as a department store Santa thanks to Fr. Fitzgibbon (Leo G. Carroll) who actually uses the job to case the joint for a robbery. Yeah, that works. 

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Speaking of Mr. Van D., there's a very nice article about him by Richard Gehman. Van Dyke is, by all accounts, a very nice man, and a pleasure to work with according to his three co-stars: Mary Tyler Moore ("He's the most wonderful, beautiful, kind, generous person I've ever met."), Rose Marie, ("He is a heart comic, not a head one."), and Morey Amsterdam ("Everything he tries, he does great. I've never worked with a happier group of people in 40 years in show business, and it's Dick's fault.") His fans include Carl Reiner, the show's creator, and Dick's idol, Stan Laurel. And what does Dick Van Dyke have to say about all this? "I do a lot of things just passably. I hate that. I smoke too much and I drink too much. Also, I'm lazy."

The Van Dyke success story is built on equal parts failure and persistence. Less than 15 years ago he was working an act with friend Phil Erickson and struggling to pay the rent. ("You couldn't really call it a smart act," he says.) For awhile they settled down with their families in Atlanta, where Van Dyke did a local variety show on TV. He moved to New Orleans for a better opportunity, and that went well. Finally, he got the big call from CBS to come to New York, but instead of his comedy breakthrough, the network made him host of The Morning Show, opposite Dave Garroway's Today. Needless to say, it didn't work out. (It didn't for Jack Paar when he hosted the show, either.) Van Dyke resolutely refused to consider himself a reject. "I'm really lazy. I just enjoyed myself. And I did a little work. We made a pilot, a variety show. It was pretty good, I thought—but nobody else did. 

Finally, he got his release from CBS and headed for Broadway, where a good performance in a bad play landed him a starring role in Bye Bye Birdie, and the big-time success that had eluded him. CBS called him back, and he wound up as the star of his own half-hour sitcom. After struggling in the ratings the first season, it's now comfortably in the top 10, considered one of the smartest shows on TV. But for all of that, Dick Van Dyke still seems sanguine about things; Gehman notes that "he gives the impression that entertaining is only a small part of his life." He might not go down as one of the great comedians of his time, Gehman concludes (although I think it's fair to say he does), "but his ultimate accomplishment of remaining a decent, integrated, thoroughly engaging human being may turn out to be far more meaningful."

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Thank goodness for Dick Van Dyke, because we've been dealing with some heavy subjects this week. Not everything that's on is like that, though. I particularly like The Flintstones (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC), a sly Hitchcockian spoof called "Dial 'S' for Suspicion," which finds Fred worried about Wilma. "After she advises him to buy life insurance, he finds her reading a book about a wife who murdered her husband." It doesn't say this is the last show of the series, though, so I don't think we have anything to worry about. 

And how about Columbo as a killer? Before taking on the role of the redoubtable lieutenant, Peter Falk played many a heavy, and he's at it again Thursday night on The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (9:00 p.m., CBS) as an evangelist who murdered an old woman ("[gave] the hand of Providence an assist") in order to get her mansion and turn it into a gospel temple. Now, though, he finds out the place was willed to the old lady's niece (Dina Merrill), and he has to find a way to persuade her to give the mansion to him.

Roy Rogers and Dale Evans are the subject of Muriel Davidson's article about the difficult competition their Saturday night show faces, up against Jackie Gleason and Sam Benedict. No need to worry, though; the's show's been cancelled effective December 22. Elsewhere, the new, one-hour version of The Twilight Zone premieres January 3, taking the place of The Nurses, which is moving to a new time slot. The New Loretta Young Show looks to be a goner, as are It's a Man's World and Saints and Sinners. They'll be replaced by the new NBC Monday Night at the Movies. Ah, well.

The Men Who Run TV: they're the network presidents and their associates, and this week the subject is Leonard Goldenson of ABC, who's fighting to keep the network a viable advertising option. Maybe I'll write about this at more length sometime. The money quote: Goldenson's miracle, "to raise up a third network—with more than 70 hours of programming, coverage of more than 90 percent of all TV homes, better than a third of the prime-time viewers' hours, over 100 advertisers and about 25 percent of all sponsors' network outlays—and, at the same time, to help send the quality of TV programs on all networks downward."

And this week's MST3K alert: Beginning of the End (Saturday, part two of a double feature beginning at 10:30 p.m., WFAA). "A girl reporter comes upon a town which has been mysteriously destroyed." Peggie Castle, Peter Graves, Morris Ankrum. Or, as IMDb describes it, "Swarms of giant grasshoppers are headed straight for Chicago." One can only hope.   

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For years, I've been making the point that TV Guide should be looked at as an original document allowing us to investigate and understand our times—not just pop culture, but history as it happened. I hope this issue has proved my point. "The Court-Martial of Captain Wycliff" plunges us into Cold War confrontation at an emotional level that we can understand, raising questions that are magnified by the lens of international politics. The Tunnel gives a human face to those political confrontations, demonstrating the lengths to which people will go for their freedom. And that's not all: David Brinkley's Journal, a program that follows The Tunnel, interviews crew members of the "Enola Gay," the American bomber that dropped the first atomic bomb in 1945, to show us just how high those stakes can go. When you recall that The Tunnel was bumped from its initial airing due to the Cuban Missile Crisis, I'd say that with this one issue, you can get a pretty handy guide to what was going on in 1962, not retrospectively, but contemporaneously. The only difference is that we're reading about it after the fact; they lived through it. TV      

Around the dial

This week starts off with the happy news that Episode 115 of the Eventually Supertrain podcast is up, which means that Dan and I are talking Search once again: specifically, "Countdown to Panic," which some of you might find disturbingly close to today's world. I'd be interested to see what you think of it.

Meanwhile, at Comfort TV, where David remembers one of The Dick Van Dyke's most memorable—and most surrealistic—episodes, "It May Look Like a Walnut," which even features producer Danny Thomas in an uncredited cameo!

Rod Serling was no stranger to the idea of a killer doll; remember Talky Tina from The Twilight Zone? Serling may not have written that one, but as Paul points out at Shadow & Substance, he took a crack at the concept in the memorable Night Gallery episode "The Doll." 

At Drunk TV, Paul Mavis presents a strong rebuttal to those critics who put down the family sitcoms of the 1950s and '60s; his look at My Three Sons posits it as a "remarkably complex, innovative" sitcom, a position I completely agree with, whether the cultural elitists like it or not.

Over at The Hits Just Keep on Comin', JB flashes back to October 27, 1962, a day that would have been exceptional for being unexceptional—except it's also "the most dangerous day in history," as the drama of the Cuban Missile Crisis nears its climax. You can relive those days with the highly-recommended The Missiles of October.

At Cult TV Blog, John returns to Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) and the episode "It's Supposed to be Thicker than Water," and yes, this delightful episode is yet another one in which the driver of the white Jag bites the dust. To find out what that means, head on over there.

And finally, Fire-Breathing Dimetroden Time takes a moment to remind us of the death of Joanna Cameron last week, at the way-too-young age of 70. A lot of readers here will, I'm sure, remember her from the CBS Saturday morning lineup and Isis. TV  

Around the dial

Ah yes, the whole family gathered in front of the television watching a clown. And dad all dressed up in a tie. Times have changed, haven't they? Classic TV doesn't change, though, so let's take a look at what's up.

I've always thought Robert Lansing was an underrated actor. Twelve o'Clock High went downhill after he was replaced, The Man Who Never Was didn't get enough of a chance, as Gary Seven in Star Trek he was a match for Kirk and Spock, and he was as menacing as The Equalizer. At Classic Film & TV Café, Rick gives us seven things we ought to know about him.

David take a nostalgic look back at Hawaiian icon Don Ho in this week's Comfort TV. He was, if not a fixture, a frequent guest on many o fthe television shows I grew up watching. I too wonder why he never appeared on Hawaii Five-O and Magnum; it's certainly not because they were too good for him.

From Hal's reviews of Love That Bob!, I'm not sure Bob Cummings would make the best chaperone; I'd be afraid he might give the boys ideas, which is one of the things to come out of "Bob the Chaperone," this week's episode at The Horn Section.

I've always had a fondness for the movie Airport, since the exterior scenes were filmed at our own Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, the perfect place to go for bad weather. Believe me, it was a big deal here. (Of course, it didn't snow, so the production crew had to fake it.) That blockbuster is the subject at Realweegiemidget Reviews.

At The Twilight Zone Vortex, it's a look at one of the show's lesser hour-long efforts—though not wihout redeeming qualities—"The Bard," with Jack Weston (as a struggling writer who's career is near death), John Williams as William Shakespeare (a not-struggling writer who's dead but brought back), and a brief but very funny appearance by Burt Reynolds in a parody of Marlon Brando.

Garroway at Large features a wonderful look at the role played by NBC's legendary Studio 8H in Dave Garroway's career. It's where he got his start, as an NBC page, and where his Today career ended as well.

Television's New Frontier: the 1960s is back again; the in-depth reviews mean they're infrequently posted, but for the second week in a row it's a legendary CBS series. This time, it's 1962, and we're looking at the end of season one and the start of season two of The Dick Van Dyke Show. TV  

This week in TV Guide: January 27, 1962

On of the all-time favorite TV tropes is the wedding. It can be used to write someone out of a series, to introduce someone into a series, or to bolster fading ratings. It's almost always an event, and sometimes the "very special episode" will even be advertised with fake "invitations" asking you, the dear viewer, to take part in the blessed event.

This week, the latest show to fall back on the wedding is CBS' Father of the Bride, at 8:30pm CT on Friday night, based on the 1950 movie of the same name starring Spencer Tracy, Joan Bennett and Elizabeth Taylor. Granted, any series with the word "bride" in the title would lead one to expect a wedding at some point or other, but when the first seventeen episodes are dedicated to setting up the premise, it's a little hard to know where the series hoped to go afterward. Sure, there are all kinds of traditional newlywed storylines to choose from, but even that will take you only so far. Eventually, the series would have had to go far afield from its original scenario. We'll never know for sure, though, because the series only lasted one season, its contract with the network being annulled with the last original episode on June 1, 1962.

At any rate, it's not the series that's the point this week, but its star, Myrna Fahey, who takes on the Elizabeth Taylor role. In this week's issue, we have a seven-page layout of Fahey modeling various fashions and accessories, including a smart pink suit with matching pillbox hat that looks eerily similar to that worn by Jacqueline Kennedy on November 22. Close enough, at least, to startle anyone seeing it after the fact.

Myrna Fahey was very busy on TV in the late '50s and '60s, and made a memorable appearance opposite Vincent Price in Roger Corman's 1960 movie House of Usher, but Father of the Bride was her only major television role. She died of cancer in 1973 at the young age of 40.

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One of the more enjoyable aspects to trolling through the TV Guide archives is running across mention of a series that's destined to become a classic but for the moment is still in its embryonic state. Thus is the case in this week's issue.

We don't have Cleveland Amory for a critic yet; he won't come on the scene for another year. But in his stead we have an equally illustrious name: Gilbert Seldes, film critic for The New Republic; first Director of Programming for CBS, host of various cultural and educational programs on both radio and television, and head of the Annenberg School for Communications - that's as in Walter Annenberg, President of Triangle Publications, publisher of TV Guide.

This week Seldes takes a look at The Dick Van Dyke Show. The rookie series premiered in October 1961, which gives Seldes three months worth of episodes to check out. And - surprise - he doesn't particularly like it. Well, that might be an exaggeration; he does allow that "it's all in fun and some of it is fun." But his main criticism of the program is that creator Carl Reiner seems to have based this show on the idea that you "take an event that has happened to nearly everybody and that nearly everybody has told to everybody else. Then make it funnier than it ever was. And throw in a surprise ending." Instead, though, he concludes that it's more "like having someone tell you what happened to him and you know the story isn't any better than what happened to you." In other words, the plots are routine and predictable, the situations generally call for some degree of misunderstanding, and a couple of twists are thrown in to ensure a surprise ending that nevertheless means everyone lives happily ever after.


Now, I'll admit that the Van Dyke show has never been one of my favorites; I enjoy the scenes with Rob, Buddy and Sally at the office, but I've never understood the appeal of Mary Tyler Moore. (I'm a heretic? So sue me.) But a couple of things about Seldes' review rub me the wrong way. For one thing, he never mentions the names of any of the actors in the series. You might be able to figure out Dick Van Dyke is in the series because his name is in the title, but it might as well be called The Carl Reiner Show, because almost all of the review is devoted to discussing Reiner's part in the program, and the success (or failure) of his scripts. But the point is you don't see anything about Moore, nor Morey Amsterdam, nor Rose Marie, nor even Richard Deacon. Now, I might be able to understand Seldes' fascination with the writing, given that he's a writer himself, but still. Second, in the review's final paragraph Seldes mentions fleetingly that Rob Petrie's job is as a TV writer, but he completely ignores the dynamic of the characters making up the office staff. As I recall, one of the Van Dyke show's special touches is that it was one of the rare sitcoms to spotlight not only the star's home life, but his work life as well. To shrug off that office, so integral to the success of the sow, as merely his occupation is to do it a gross disservice.

Perhaps the show wasn't literary enough for Seldes. Maybe it didn't hit upon social issues, or have redeeming educational value. Perhaps The Dick Van Dyke Show was just 30 minutes of harmless entertainment that everyone could identify with, acted out by a superior cast. Is there anything wrong with that?

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As you know, on Mondays we focus on a single day's worth of listings. Sometimes I add local color to the story, especially when I'm reporting on the Minneapolis-St. Paul channels. Rarely, though, do I get a chance to go in-depth on some of the programs on that day. I thought I'd rectify that this week; it won't replace Monday's story (you'll have to tune in to see what day I'm doing), but since Sunday afternoon programming has, arguably, changed more than any other day of the week, let's take a closer look at some of the shows people were watching on January 28.

The reason Sundays are so different, of course, is that the early '60s didn't see wall-to-wall sports or infomercials on during the day - there was time for something else. Much of that programming falls into the category of "public affairs" - hey, I didn't promise it would be exciting, just different. For example, at 4:00pm CT NBC has The Nation's Future, in which two public figures debate one of the leading issues of the day, following by questioning from a studio audience. This week: Democratic Senator Clifton Anderson (New Mexico) and Republican Senator John Tower (Texas) take up the question "Should medical care for the aged be linked to Social Security?" The show runs for an hour. It's up against Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour on CBS and Wide World of Sports on ABC. Later on, NBC has the venerable "press conference of the air" Meet the Press, which wasn't always shown on Sunday mornings. TV Guide doesn't provide any details, but a little Internet research tells us the guest is Representative Chet Holifield (D - California), Chairman of the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy. What with all the talk about the Test Ban Treaty, it's not surprising that atomic energy gets a lot of play.

Meanwhile, WFAA, the ABC affiliate in DFW, has a program called Meet the Professor, which this week has Arthur Mizener, a professor of English at Cornell. Later on, WFAA features Young America Speaks, with students from Texas and Midwestern Universities debating the question "Should the Federal Government subsidize cultural and artistic programs?" while Wichita Falls' KSWO brings us ABC's Issues and Answers, an interview with Chester Bowles, special representative to the President on Asian, African and Latin American Affairs. And after that, NBC carries "the first of three half-hour programs presenting taped highlights from the Federal Communications Commission's hearing on network television programming." You might wonder if anyone was ever interested enough to watch it, but again, let's put it in context: the Quiz Show Scandals (see more below) had changed the way TV programming was sponsored, and questions about (for example) whether or not the networks relied on ratings to the exclusion of quality were, indeed, very controversial.

Besides public affairs programming, Sunday was known as a graveyard for cultural programs that might not find a large audience in prime-time. At 1:30pm, NBC Opera Theatre reruns 1960's production of Mozart's Don Giovanni, featuring two of the greatest opera singers of the 20th Century, soprano Leontyne Price and bass Cesare Siepi.  The show expands to two hours and thirty minutes for the opera. Meanwhile, at 2:00pm, WFAA's Great Music from Chicago is an hour of classical music from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Also at 2:00pm, Directions '62 has "Singer Among the Nations," a profile of the wonderful tenor Jan Peerce. At 4:30pm, it's one of the most loved quiz shows of the '60s, G-E College Bowl, which pits DePauw University against BYU. Oh, and on Amateur Hour, "Ted Mack's guests include a barbershop chorus, a guitarist and a dancer."

Local movies? At noon it's One Way to Love on WBAP and We Who Are Young on KSYD. At 4:30pm on KTVT, it's Flaxy Martin. Religious programming? Everything from Gospel Lighthouse Church on KTVT to Davey and Goliath on KXII. Oh, and there is some sports: CBS Sports Spectacular spotlights the always-enjoyable Harlem Globetrotters, once again taking on the Washington Generals. Former PGA champion Bob Rosburg competes against Japanese champion Pete Nakamura on Shell's Wonderful World of Golf on NBC. The aforementioned Wide World of Sports has highlights of yesterday's Oregon Invitational Indoor Track Meet. And in the most exciting show of the day, KTVT has Championship Bridge, hosted by the renowned Charles Goren.

See how much we've lost?

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The sports schedule is a little light this week, with football finished for the year and baseball still three months off.

Not the Green Bay Packers

NBC's Saturday afternoon NBA Game of the Week might confuse you if you aren't up-to-date on the early history of the NBA. The game pits the Syracuse Nationals and Chicago Packers from the Chicago Amphitheatre. Now, the Packers aren't some early version of the Chicago Bulls - the league's first expansion team is actually the predecessor to today's Washington Wizards, having been known during the intervening years as the Chicago Zephyrs, Baltimore Bullets, Capital Bullets and Washington Bullets before settling on their present moniker.* The history of the Syracuse Nationals, by contrast, is much simpler - they moved to Philadelphia at the end of the 1962-63 season and became the 76ers.  (Replace the Warriors, who had moved the previous year to San Francisco. Think Philly would like to have that trade back?)

*The present-day Bulls actually began in 1966.

As for the Amphitheatre, which was demolished in 1999, it's probably best known as the home of that infamous 1968 Democratic National Convention. But that's another kind of sport, for another time.

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In last week's TV Guide, which was from 1958, we saw that the big-name quiz shows still maintained an active presence on the airwaves. with entrants like Dotto, The $64,000 Question, The $64,000 Challenge and Twenty One among otheres. Later in 1958 the Quiz Show Scandals will become public, taking down most of these shows. In 1959 the sins of the industry were put on public display during Congressional hearings, and this past week the story finally comes to an end when a Manhattan district court judge gave suspended sentences to the guilty parties, the most famous of which being Charles Van Doren.

In another note, we read a brief mention of the death of Ernie Kovacs on January 13 in a traffic accident. It's just one sentence, commenting that the saddest faces on television were those seen at Kovacs' funeral. Now it's true I don't have the issues just after this, so there's no way of telling if a bigger tribute to Kovacs was offered later on, but for one of the greatest pioneers television has ever known, a man described in the sentence as the "beloved comedian," there would have been more about him. Nowadays there would be special editions of People all over the newsstands, but perhaps things were more sedate back then. It is true that Kovacs, in his lifetime, was always something of a cult figure with a niche audience, and it's also true that greatness is seldom recognized in one's lifetime. There's no question, though, that it was a sad day, for Kovacs' family, friends and admirers, and a sad day for television itself. (I wrote about Kovacs' death here.)

And finally, we have a selection of quotes from Jackie Gleason, who earlier this month appeared as a guest on David Susskind's infamous Open End program. Among the gems from The Great One:

On Money: "Well, I think the best way to waste money is to keep it."

On Drinking: "I have some rules about drinking. I never drink when I'm angry. I never drink when I have a problem. I never drink to ward off a cold or to get a good night's sleep. I drink with the honorable intention of getting bagged."

On Fallout Shelters: "I don't go around picking wild mushrooms. I go to a store and buy some food. That store isn't going to be there, Pal."

On TV: "I think it's doing a pretty good job now - with the exception of a program like this." TV