This week in TV Guide: June 10, 1972

In the midst of television's infatuation with Upstairs, Downstairs, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Elizabeth R, and other prestigious British costume dramas, it seems appropriate to remind viewers that "British television is not all kings, queens and high-flown drama." There is, for example, science fiction, an example of which is the long-running (now in its ninth season) series Doctor Who, about to make its debut in American syndication this fall. 

The episode in question in this week's article is "The Sea Devils," and with its over-the-top story of sea monsters trying to reconquer the Earth. It's a prototypical Who story for those of us in the know, but for readers whose idea of British television was Masterpiece Theatre, I can only imagine what they must have thought of the article's attempt to explain the storyline, not to mention the various eccentricities of the Doctor. At this point in the show's history, the Doctor's ability to travel in time and space had been disabled by the Time Lords; I'm sure that time travel would have pushed some of these readers over the edge.

Doctor Who made its premiere the day after John F. Kennedy's assassination; by 1972 it's on its third actor to portray the Doctor, Jon Pertwee. Pertwee will play the role for five seasons, to be followed by the man who brought the series its greatest fame in the United States, Tom Baker. And it won't be until Doctor Who becomes a staple of local public television stations throughout the nation that the show develops its cult following, one that continues to this day.

From left: the Third Doctor (Jon Pertwee), the Master (Roger Delgado), a Sea Devil, the Doctor and companion
Jo Grant (Katy Manning)

For old-time Whovians like yours truly, it's been difficult to watch the show's decline since its revival many years (and many Doctors) ago. I stopped watching it several years ago, and I've got no particular desire to return to it—if, indeed, the show returns from the hiatus the BBC is reportedly preparing for it. We've been watching the classic episodes from the very beginning over the last year or so, and it's been a pleasant reminder of how much fun it used to be, and how much moral power it carried. I haven't made any secret of my disappointment with the turn it's taken in its reincarnation, so I won't tread the same ground here. Suffice it to say that, back in 1972, there was little indication that the program would still be airing in 2025, through 40 seasons and 15 incarnations of the Doctor. If only we had known!

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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. 

Cleveland Amory's last column of the season is a look at the mailbag, and in typical Amory fashion, the pithy answers to the questions from readers are just as entertaining as the letters themselves. 

Typically, we hear from those who felt Our Critic was a little too hard on their favorite shows and/or stars. For instance, Alan Thomas, of Macon, Georgia, asks Cleve why he was so down on the Tony Curtis-Roger Moore adventure series The Persuaders!, a show which I found quite entertaining, by the way. "I do not like you one bit," Mr. Thomas says. "They are good actors. They have their faults. So does everybody." In defense of the Curtis-Moore duo, Amory replies, "In this show the fault, dear Brutus, was not in the stars." Meanwhile, Donald Parker, of Madison, South Dakota, suggests that Amory's review of McMillian & Wife proves that "Cleveland Amory has a severe case of the cynics." "Yes," Amory responds, "but that's the show that gave it to us." And E. H. Scheckler Jr., of Elizabeth, New Jersey, is more blunt about it all. "I wish that someone would review one of Cleveland Amory's reviews and have him canceled, as so many of these programs have been." Not so fast, responds Cleve: "But wouldn't you get tired of the reruns?" Erika Ela (no address) suggests that Amory have a panel of reviewers to review shows. Ah, but as Amory retorts, "Who do you think we is?"

Not everyone has a bone to pick. Alexander McCormick, of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, wasn't impressed with NBC's coverage of the Winter Olympics in Japan, and wonders what Amory thought. "[T]he announcers and experts were dull and the '[Jack] Perkins Pieces' overrated. I still remember the time they cut away from a terrific fight at a hockey game to a downhill ski race which you couldn't see anyway on account of a snowstorm. And I also remember spending hours on the distance skating, with the same guy [probably the great Dutch triple-gold medal winner Ard Schenk] going around and around. For all we know, he's still going around." Jeannie Adlon of New York City wondered about Cleve's opinion of the recent Emmys telecast. There were too many awards given for single performances, Amory thought; as for the Emmy show itself, "it was awful. It would be easy to produce it right, too—just give us more and longer scenes from the nominations and less junk, bad jokes, long, dull thank yous and bad taste."

Not everything is so negative, though. Mrs. D.E. Woods of Richmond, Indiana says, "I'm 50 years old and I'm in love with three men—my husband, Peter Falk and Cleveland Amory." "Dear Sis," Amory responds, "we thought your letter would never come."

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Movies form a big part of this week's highlights, beginning on Saturday with a repeat of the political thriller Seven Days in May (8:30 p.m. ET, ABC), starring Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas, Fredric March, Ava Gardner, and Edmond O'Brien, directed by John Frankenheimer, and with a Rod Serling script that uses large sections of the Fletcher Knebel-Charles Bailey II novel verbatim. If it shakes your faith in government, it reinforces your faith in Hollywood's ability to tell a terrific story that's far more than just a political potboiler. On the more lighthearted side, Once upon a Dead Man (9:00 p.m., NBC) is the pilot for the aforementioned McMillan and Wife; I wonder what Cleveland Amory thought of this? And at 11:30, it's Compulsion, a fictionalized version of the Leopold-Loeb case, with Dean Stockwell and Bradford Dillman as the youthful killers, and Orson Welles brilliant as their Darrowesque attorney.

The features continue Sunday with the "angry young man" drama The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (noon, WBZ), directed by Tony Richardson, with Tom Courtney as the reform school student who finds fulfillment, of a sort, through distance running. At 1:00 p.m., it's Jacques Demy's jazz opera The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (WKBG), with the music of Michel Legrand (the movie's biggest hit: "I Will Wait For You"), and starring Nino Castelnuovo and the luminous Catherine Deneuve. In primetime, the great actor of our lifetime, William Shatner, stars as the heavy in Cade's County (9:30 p.m., CBS), as Glenn Ford tries to prevent him from setting off a nuclear warhead. Forget the county; no scenery is safe in this scenario. 

If you thought that we were done with opera after The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, guess again. On Monday, it's the movie For the First Time (7:00 p.m., WTIC), with opera star Mario Lanza, in a nice bit of casting against type, playing—surprise!—an opera star who falls in love with a deaf Viennese girl. If you want something a little more serious, turn to NET Opera Theatre's presentation of Benjamin Britten's magnificent "Peter Grimes" (8:00 p.m., PBS), one of the greatest operas of the 20th century, starring Peter Pears, Heather Harper, and Bryan Drake. But if you want to get back to the movies, I can't think of anything better than the documentary Hollywood: The Dream Factory (8:00 p.m., ABC), an hour-long retrospective of Hollywood's Golden Age, narrated by Dick Cavett.

Tuesday begins with a perceptive episode of The Mod Squad (7:30 p.m., ABC) that looks at the difficulty Vietnam veterans have adjusting to civilian life, as Robert Pine plays a vet who looks at domestic dissidents as "the enemy." There's no telling how he would have treated Cannon's adversary (9:30 p.m., CBS): a cult leader with "an almost satanic influence" over his followers, who include Arthur Rubenstein's son John, June Lockhart's daughter Anne, and Dennis Weaver's son Rick. And Dick Cavett's sole guest tonight (11:30 p.m., ABC) is none other than Jack Paar. 

I always enjoyed the British import The Persuaders! (Wednesday, 9:30 p.m., ABC), starring Roger Moore and Tony Curtis; a pity it only lasted one season. In this week's explosive episode, Tony's walking around with an attache case attached to his wrist, little knowing that while he tries to prevent the "Other Side" from getting it, he's putting his own life in danger: the case is loaded with explosives that could go off "at the shake of a wrist." If you'd prefer something a little more macabre, try out tonight's Night Gallery (10:00 p.m., NBC), which includes "Green Fingers," with Elsa Lanchester as the little old gardener who isn't all she seems.

On Thursday night, NBC kicks off Adventure Theater (8:00 p.m.), one of those summer quasi-anthology series that were so common back then, either failed pilots or, in this case, "a series of dramas from the Sixties," specificially reruns from Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre, swhich works out well since that show was filmed entirely in color. In this case, it's "The Lady is My Wife," first shown in 1967, and it's notable not only for a fine cast that includes Bradford Dillman and Jean Simmons, but because it's directed by Sam Peckinpah. Expect something that's a little toned down from what we're used to seeing from him in the theaters. Over on PBS, it's NET Playhouse on the '30s (8:30 p.m.), with Dustin Hoffman and Orson Bean in Maxwell Anderson's time-travel comedy "The Star Wagon," which also features Eileen Brennan.

Since we started with movies, we'll finish the same way, with Antonioni's L'Avventura (Friday, 8:30 p.m., PBS), the story of a missing woman that becomes a series of "metaphors for spiritual listlessness." Judith Crist isn't particularly a fan—she describes it as "a difficult, slow-paced film, marked by uneven acting and stolid characters"—but acknowledges the movie's reputation as a "masterpiece." Monica Vitti and Gabriele Ferzetti star in what has subsequently been listed as one of the top ten greatest films ever made.

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I sense something of an underlying theme in this week's features. First, we have Cleveland Amory's second appearance in this week's issue, authoring the cover story on Doris Day. The focus, not surprisingly, is on Dodo's involvement in the animal rights movement, her love of dogs, and her efforts to rescue them from cruel treatment. There's some mention of her personal life, virtually none of her CBS sitcom, although it's hard to imagine that anyone would be turned off from the show based on this very flattering portrayal.

That's followed by a brief story on Eric Knight, the author of a Saturday Evening Post story that's spanned even more years than Doctor Who: "Lassie Come Home," which originally appeared in the Post in 1939 before being expanded into a novel the following year. The book inspired a movie that catapulted its two child actors, Elizabeth Taylor and Roddy McDowall, to a stardom that endures to this day. It also inspired a series, Lassie, that has been a presence on television for 17 years. Lassie Comes Home has recently been reissued by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, at the request of Knight's widow, Jere. It is a timeless story, that of a boy and his dog, isn't it? 

Finally, an animal story that's probably less of a favorite with Cleve: Melvin Durslag's look at the upcoming Belmont Stakes. (Saturday, CBS) It's the longest and most grueling of the three Triple Crown races, and six potential Triple Crown winners (including last year's Kentucky Derby and Preakness winner Canonero II) have failed the test. The challenges are many: the distance, the timing (the three races are run over the course of six weeks), and the excitement of the Triple Crown. It's one of the rare times when horse racing takes center stage on the American sports scene; considering the ratings the races generate, it's often asked why one of the networks doesn't splurge on a weekly Saturday racing show. The answer, says Durslag, is that trainers and owners of the best horses spend too much time avoiding each other to guarantee audience-generating matchups. By the way, this year's Belmont does not carry the potential of a Triple Crown winner, but Riva Ridge, the year's best three-year-old, dominates the race, adding to his Kentucky Derby victory. No need to worry, though; Riva Ridge's stablemate will take the Triple Crown next year. His name: Secretariat. 

(In-between these stories is a form-fitting fashion layout featuring two-time Emmy Winner Susan Hampshire, but that's a different kind of animal altogether.) 

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MST3K alert: The Crawling Eye (English; 1958) In a radioactive cloud lies a tentacled monster, awaiting its victims. Forrest Tucker, Laurence Payne, Jennifer Jayne. (Saturday, 9:15 p.m., WKBG) One of Forrest Tucker's finest roles (and I'm not being sarcastic) sees him as a UN consultant investigating mysterious goings-on at a village in the Alps. Two of the most notable members of the supporting casts aren't listed here: Janet Munro, who enjoyed a very successful film and television career, including three Disney movies; and Andrew Faulds, who goes on to star in the UK series The Protectors before serving more than 20 years as a Labour member of Parliament. TV  

This week in TV Guide: November 16, 1968

It's Sunday, November 17. A perfect fall day, perhaps a slight chill in the air, but not quite close enough to December for snow. Thanksgiving's coming up a week from this Thursday, and the wife wants to make sure everything's in shape for when the family comes over. So after church, you might have spent some time outside, raking the last of the leaves, or freshening up the trim around the windows, finishing up the Honey-Do list.

Afterwards, you're ready for a little time to yourself, so while the missus is at the store getting things for dinner and the kids are playing outside, you settle in to your barcalounger with a cold brew and a snack and turn on TV to catch the late football game. You have your choice, but instead of the NFL's Rams-49ers on CBS, you decide to go with the AFL game on NBC, pitting the New York Jets against the Oakland Raiders, a showdown between the two best teams in the league.

And what a game it is; with Joe Namath of the Jets and Daryle Lamonica of the Raiders trading touchdown passes, the two teams go back and forth throughout the game. The Raiders lead 14-12 at the half, but early in the 4th quarter Namath launches a 50-year touchdown pass to his favorite receiver, Don Maynard, and the Jets take a 26-22 lead. By now your wife is home and dinner's cooking; the kids have finished their homework and everyone's ready to eat, but it's been a long game, what with scoring and penalties and incomplete passes, it's already dragged well past the time you would have expected it to be done. After a Jets field goal, the Raiders drive down the field and Lamonica tosses a 22-yard touchdown to the great Fred Biletnikoff with four minutes left to tie the game 29-29. Then, with a little over a minute to play, another field goal puts the Jets back in the lead, 32-29. "Can you keep it down?" you yell to your impatient wife, "I'm watching the game! It's almost over!"

Indeed it is, although you don't know it at the time. Not until after the Jets kick off, and suddenly you find yourself watching not the end of the game, but the beginning of—a movie? "What the hell is this?" you shout, jumping out of your chair, spilling your drink, your face as red as a beet. Your wife comes in, admonishing you: "Not around the children." You don't care. "What the hell is this," you repeat, "this, movie? The game's not over! What happened to the game? The game!" You have a few more choice things to say, things that can't be repeated on a family site. Then you pick up the phone and call the local station. It's no use; the game won't be back. Outraged, you call the sports department of the local newspaper; it takes several attempts, because the line is constantly busy (from others complaining, you assume), but finely you get through to someone, and if anything you become even angrier: it turns out that Lamonica wasn't quite done yet, and with 42 seconds left he threw a 43-yard touchdown pass to put the Raiders back in front 36-32. On the ensuing kickoff, the Jets fumbled; it was run back by the Raiders for another touchdown, making the score 43-32, which is how it ended. You don't know it right now, and you probably wouldn't care if you did, but you've just been a witness to one of the most famous football games ever played and never seen, one that even would up with its own name: the Heidi Game.

A number of sources, including this article and Jeff Miller's history of the AFL, Going Long, provide the rich details that prove Talleyrand's saying, "It is worse than a crime; it is a blunder."A succession of increaingly abusrd events guaranteed the game's place in infamy. Network executives tried to reach Dick Cline, NBC's broadcast supervisor, to tell him to keep the game on the air; they weren't able to get through to him because the lines were jammed by concerned viewers themselves worried that the end of the game wouldn't be shown. After the switch was made, the network president, Julian Goodman, himself called to demand that they go back to the game, but it was impossible to reach a technician who could throw the switch. Once NBC became aware of the furor erupting, they ran a crawl on the bottom of the screen telling people the final score; the crawl ran during one of the most dramatic moments in the movie, infuriating those who actually preferred Heidi to football.

Cline's dry recitation of the facts in subsequent interviews, including his response to Goodman's demand to resume the game ("Well, I'll try."), and the equally dry coverage of the events by David Brinkley on the Huntley-Brinkley Report the next night, make anniversary recaps of the game hilarious to watch. One of the funniest occurred in 2003, when the NFL Network commemorated the game's 35th anniversary by preempting their regular schedule to broadcast the movie Heidi (the first non-sports related programming the network had ever shown), only to interrupt the movie at the climactic moment, when Klara walks without her wheelchair,* to replay the final minute of the game and the two Raiders touchdowns that most of the nation had missed back in 1968.

*The same point in the movie at which NBC chose to craw the final score across the bottom of the screen, ruining the movie's emotional high point. Turnabout is fair play, one assumes.

The Heidi Game becomes far more than a great football game; it makes the front page of the New York Times, is featured on evening news broadcasts, and proves to television executives the appeal of pro football. Never again will a football game take second fiddle to anything. But to get to that point, it has to start somewhere, and November 17, 1968 is that day.

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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.

Cleveland Amory's target this week is the new CBS sitcom The Doris Day Show. And I use the word "target" unreservedly, given that this is as savage a review as we've ever read from Cleve. For instance, referring to the show's main title, with Dodo singing her best-known hit "Que Sera, Sera," (translated, "Whatever will be, will be," Amory remarks, "In this show, whatever will be, will be, all right, but it won't be good." This, he stresses, is not to be taken as an attack on Miss Day, although "she is photographed through so many filters that you feel she is not on TV but on your radio—but never mind. If she's too far away to think of as the girl next door, think of her as the girl next to the girl next door."

With that out of the way, he continues, "Unfortunately, it is now necessary to discuss—and now you can get mad—the rest of the show." Take the idea behind the show, for example, but "don't lose it, because the producers of this show sure did—if indeed they ever had one." Two of the regulars, played by Denver Pyle and Fran Ryan, number among the the two most irritating people on television. The kids aren't any better, but "don't blame them. Presumably they don't write the lines, although we wouldn't bet on it." Of supporting player James Hampton, he says, "Even when he's not on, he's a threat—there is always the chance that he will appear."

There are plots in the episodes, although Amory realizes most people won't believe that statement, but "they are buried under so many layers of cotton-candy writing, not to mention the thunderous laugh track, that they deserve better. Like, for example, internment with attendant ritual, at Forest Lawn." And that's one of the nicer things he has to say. In fact, he is convinced that The Doris Day Show is not only no more interesting than the average person's everyday life, it's "a good deal less so." And to those of you who may doubt this, Our Critic has a challenge for you: "Tonight, instead of tuning in on the show, don't. Just sit around in your kitchen with your family and friends. Ask whether anyone would like a glass of milk. If someone says either yes or no—terrific. You've got your dialogue. You want action, too? All right, get up and butter some bread. Ask Grandpa if he wants some. He shakes his head. Ah, something's wrong. Wonderful, you've got a plot." And, presumably, nowhere to go but up.

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At The Doan Report, Richard K. Doan looks at the role TV played in the recent presidential election, and wonders just how great a role it was. Richard Nixon's campaign spent more than half of his $18-20 million stockpile on TV shows and spots; many observers felt the campaign "raised the political uses of TV to a new art." Hubert Humphrey, on the other hand, was hurting for funds, and what television he did do was "generally undistinguished," and yet he came a whisker or two of beating Nixon. What does it all mean?

ABC's Howard K. Smith makes the call 

As far as Election Night coverage, ABC (to no one's surprise) finished with the fewest viewers by far. However, they were the first network to (correctly) call Illinois for Nixon, giving him the Electoral College victory; they made the call at 7:15 a.m. CT, and signed off 45 minutes later. CBS and NBC, "aghast at ABC's audacity," held off for an additional two hours before making the same call. I've seen the coverage from all three networks on YouTube, and the only difference between the three is that ABC, convinced that their projection desk had enough information to make the call, went ahead and did it. Back in the day, they used to call something like that a scoop.

Elsewhere, the ratings axe is claiming the first casualties of the season. NBC is giving the heave-ho to The Beautiful Phyllis Diller Show at the end of December; the network isn't yet sure what's going to take its place, although it could be Strange Report, a London-based show starring Anthony Quayle. In the event, the replacement turns out to be My Friend Tony, which Cleve reviews here. (Strange Report winds up on the 1969 fall schedule.)

The big changes are coming at ABC, where six series have already been sacked: The Ugliest Girl in Town, The Felony Squad, The Don Rickles Show, the second night of Peyton Place, Journey to the Unknown, and Operation: Entertainment. That's Life is on the brink, but the network is hoping to save the musical-comedy series. Among the series lined up as replacements: This Is Tom Jones, Let's Make a Deal (moving over from NBC), What's It All About World? (starring Dean Jones), Generation Gap (a quiz show), and Section 8, from the Laugh-In stable. I wonder: did Section 8 wind up being Turn-On?

The Teletype offers us a look at some additional series making it out of development limbo in time for the 1969 fall schedule. Michael Parks' Then Came Bronson debuts as a pilot in March of that year before becoming a regular series on NBC in September, joining Bracken's World, a movie-studio drama that NBC had been considering, and ABC's Bill Bixby vehicle The Courtship of Eddie's Father, for which that network had just ordered a pilot. The only clunker in the list is a proposed CBS sitcom starring Minnie Pearl. Don't worry, though; she'll make it on Hee Haw.

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One show not on the chopping block is Family Affair, and perhaps the person with the most challenging role in the show is none other than 19-year-old Kathy Garver, "the most soundly upstaged young thing in television!" according to Dick Hobson. She has to deal not only with two adorable little kids, but Sebastian Cabot, a master of upstaging, as well. Well, if all that is true, it's not keeping Kathy awake at nights. "I don't worry about that," she says. "After all, I am the only ingenue on the show and I do get the most fan mail." She will admit, however, that she'd rather like a little more to do. "ON days when I come in and I have only one or two scenes, I blow my mind because I'm bored sitting no matter where I am. I like to be doing things every minute."

Kathy's life seems to be built around that philosophy: in addition to Family Affair, she's a senior at UCLA, where she's been a cheerleader ("I like to yell and scream.") and majors in speech. She's also national teen chairman for the March of Dimes, for whom she's traveled around the country, speaking to 150,000 teens; honorary chairman of the State Youth Conference for teh Mentally Retarded; and, until recently, wrote a monthly column for a fan magazine. Kathy, if you're reading this somewhere, I'm exhausted just typing this. 

Producer Ed Hartmann says she's the one person in the cast required to act, since she's a 19-year-old playing a 16-year-old. She acknowledges that she's always looked younger than she really is, "and I seem to be getting younger looking all the time." In fact, so convincing is she as a sweet sixteen that her fan mail includes money from teen-age boys who send her five-dollar bills on her birthday. (Little do they know that five dollars makes a great contribution to the March of Dimes.) And, just like any other teenager, she dates. In fact, a recent date with a dentist provided quite the experience when he received an emergency call to treat a toothache, requiring her to fill in as his dental assistant. "I had a little plastic thing and I put a bib around the patient and I got him some water and it was really fun. I like to be needed." Let's see Sebastian Cabot play that role. She's still active as a prolific voice talent, and just as charming—and youthful—as ever.

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November is a sweeps month, so it's not surprising we see a lot of specials and the like on the schedule this week.

NBC gives us back-to-back specials on Saturday night, preempting Saturday Night at the Movies: first, Tennessee Ernie Ford (8:00 p.m.) hosts an hour of music and "topical comedy" (written by head writer Digby Wolfe, who named and helped create Laugh-In), with special guests Lucille Ball, Andy Griffith and the Golddiggers. That's followed by Jack Benny's Bag (9:00 p.m.), described as a "'with-it' hour for Waukegan's favorite flower child," starring Phyllis Diller (in a spoof of The Graduate) and Dick Clark, and featuring cameos from Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau and Rowan and Martin. If you're looking for something slightly more serious, check out On the Beach (10:30 p.m., WMT in Cedar Rapids), one of the darknest movies of the decade, starring Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner and Fred Astaire in the story of a world slowly dying following a nuclear war. Be prepared for bad dreams after watching this one.

Our Sunday potpourri, in addition to the infamous Heidi, includes the broadcast premiere of The Sons of Katie Elder (8:00 p.m., ABC), starring John Wayne and Dean Martin. Judith Crist calls it "pleasant and lighthearted," and I'd say that's about right. If you want more of The Duke and Dino, the late movie is Rio Bravo (10:45 p.m., KRNT in Des Moines), which also offers us Angie Dickinson, Ricky Nelson, and Walter Brennan. On a musical note, The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour (8:00 p.m., CBS) presents a show in the round featuring songs from Donovan, Dion, and Jennifer Warren; due to the continuing musicians' strike, the show's music is provided by the Jimmy Joyce Singers. 

Monday and Tuesday nights, NBC unleashes an epic blockbuster, El Cid (8:00 p.m. both nights), with Charlton Heston and Sophia Loren in the film biography of Spain's national hero. Crist praises it as "a dazzler, a historical jam-crammed with castles and crowds and battles galore and enough jousts and tournaments and armored extras to satisfy the most arden medievalist among us." El Cid has a running time of three hours and four minutes, although I suspect some of that was edited out for television. By the way, remember when longish movies were split into two parts? Sometimes, as in this case, they'd air on consecutive evenings, but I can remember when you might have to wait several days, if not an entire week, for the conclusion.
 

For centuries, scientists (and science fiction writers) have been captivated by the search for "The Criminal Chromosome," the extra Y in the XYY chromosome that may cause of violent behavior; and the possibility of being able to preemptively "cure" such antisocial individuals through genetic tests and treatment. On the locally produced news program Spectrum (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m., WHBF in the Quad Cities), research geneticists and public health officials discuss the latest scientific findings and what they may promise for the future. 

Wednesday night is the season premiere of the Hallmark Hall of Fame (6:30 p.m., NBC) which makes sense since the company's got greeting cards to sell, and Christmas is right around the corner. (There'll be another episode next month, just in case anyone missed the reminder the first time.) This episode is, alas, not one of the series' more distinguished efforts: "A Punt, a Pass and a Prayer," starring Hugh O'Brien as an aging pro quarterback, trying to come back from a serious injury, who refuses to believe the glory days may be over. As a story it has great potential, but it's always difficult to watch actors trying to play athletes, and while the storyline has potential (an aging football star tries to come back from a serious injury), it falls short of what one might have expected from Hall of Fame. Don DeFore, Betsy Palmer, and Shelly Novack co-star. That's followed by a special edition of Kraft Music Hall (8:00 p.m., NBC), as Roy Rogers and Dale Evans host the Country Music Association Awards, including performances by Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell, Jeannie C. Riley, and Tammy Wynette.

Thursday is dominated by friendly, familiar names. The episodes aren't themselves particularly special, but the titles are comforting to see: Daniel Boone (6:30 p.m.), Ironside (7:30 p.m.), Dragnet (8:30 p.m.), and The Dean Martin Show (9:00 p.m.) on NBC (the latter with Gordon MacRae, Bob Newhart, Abbe Lane, and Paul Lynde); Hawaii Five-O (7:00 p.m.) and The Thursday Night Movie (8:00 p.m., John Ford's Cheyenne Autumn, with Richard Widmark and Carroll Baker) on CBS; and The Flying Nun (7:00 p.m.), Bewitched (7:30 p.m.), and That Girl (8:00 p.m.) among the offerings on ABC. No specials, just a night of, as my friend David Hofstede might put it, Comfort TV.

Friday gives us NBC's 90-minute wheel series The Name of the Game (7:30 p.m.), tonight featuring Robert Stack's investigative reporter Dan Farrell working to clear a woman currently on death row. Assisting Farrell in his efforts is Peggy Maxwell, played charmingly by Susan Saint James. As Leslie Raddatz relates, Susan's rise to co-star of a weekly series is nothing short of astonishing: having worked as a model for three years, she walked into the office of Universal's casting director and told her "Now I want to act." Finding out that Saint James' previous experience was limited to six acting lessons, Monique James suggested that she take some more lessons and then come back and do a scene. But that wasn't good enough for Susan; she came back the next day and did a scene from Barefoot in the Park that was so good that James signed her up and took her over to the producer and director of Fame is the Name of the Game, the film that served as the pilot for the series. "I thought they might do a test on her, so I'd have some film. That was all I had in mind." Instead, they had her memorize a scene, which she did in five minutes, and nailed it. She was cast in the movie, without a screen test. From there, Universal put her in the pilot for It Takes a Thief, and the rest is history. She'll win an Emmy for Name of the Game; still in the future are her most famous roles: Sally McMillan in McMillan & Wife, and Kate McArdle in Kate & Allie. Not bad, for someone who only took six acting lessons. 

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Finally, I mentioned that Christmas is just around the corner, and proof of that is a string of ads for Mattel's new toy line, which they have helpfully pointed out to parents by letting them know when their commercials can be seen on TV.

For example, there's this reminder that on Tuesday night, you can catch commercials for Strange Change, "the toy that turns time capsules into monsters over and over again!" on I Dream of Jeannie at 6:30, while Skediddle Kiddles and Disneyland See 'n' Say can be seen on The Avengers, also at 6:30. Incidentally, if you want to see how Strange Change works, or if you had it when you were little and just want to relive the memories, here's a clip of it in action.

I loved the Matt Mason toys when they came out. I was already a long-term space buff at that point, and I collected all the different astronauts, along with the moonwalker, the space station, the play set, and other things, I'm sure. This could well be the very commercial; I'm surprised they couldn't find a science fiction series to put this on.

Since Barbie was born, has there ever been a time when she wasn't a best seller? Parents who saw her on Get Smart! and made a mental note were the smart ones.

Finally, a more somber sign of the times—here's an ad you wouldn't have dreamed of seeing six months ago. How quickly things change.

TV  

Around the dial

I enjoy a good quiz as much as anyone, and at Comfort TV, David has a good one: name the classic shows that features these characters. Remember, don't read the comments until you've taken your best shot.

Hal's back to Love That Bob! this week, with the 1959 episode "Bob's Boyhood Love Image," as Schultzy (Ann B. Davis) goes through Bob's past to identify his childhood crush—all the better to learn what Bob's ideal woman is like, so that she can become that woman.

A very nice Dave Garroway ancedote is Jodie's contribution at Garroway at Large, as she explains how a story about Dr. Jonas Salk (who discovered the polio vaccine) can give all of us a little hope of better days ahead.

At Fire-Breathing Dimetroden Time, the focus is on Department S, the 1969-70 British spy series, and the episode "The Duplicated Man," which sounds as if it should be from The Prisoner or The Avengers, concerning someone who may or may not be a double agent.

The movies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson were a staple of network movie shows of the day, and at Classic Film & TV Café, Rick casts his eye on one of their very best, 1959's Pillow Talk, co-starring Tony Randall and Thelma Ritter. A Best Actress nom for Dodo, and Supporting Actress for Ritter.

The Annual "Serling Fest," honoring you-know-you, was postponed this year due to the virus, but that didn't stop the Rod Serling Memorial Foundation from taking the shown online. Shadow & Substance gives us the lineup, and you can catch the presentations at the Foundation's Facebook page.

At The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew reports on the death of choreographer Tony Charmoli, who worked on Your Hit Parade back in the 1950s. Andrew includes links to a couple of past pieces on Charmoli, who was 99 when he died this month. We should all be so lucky. TV  

This week in TV Guide: December 28, 1968

I can't think that there were many people sorry to see 1968 come to an end. It was, by any measure, a miserable year, and that's when it wasn't tragic as well. But before we can get to 1969, we have to wrap up 1968.

On New Year's Eve, NBC helps ring out the old year with live coverage of the King Orange Jamboree Parade from Miami (6:30 p.m. CT), with Lorne Greene and Anita Bryant behind the mics. I always enjoyed this parade; it was bright and colorful just like the game the following night—ah, but more about that later.

Meanwhile, at 9:00 p.m., CBS presents the first of a two-part look back at 1968. "America and the World," moderated by Eric Sevareid, brings together the network's European correspondents to discuss the international scene, including Vietnam. Part two, which airs tomorrow afternoon at 3:30 p.m. (after the Cotton Bowl), concentrates on the turbulent national scene: the White House, the Great Society, and student-racial unrest.

And now for some entertainment: That's Life (9:00 p.m., ABC), the comedy-variety show that Cleveland Amory reviewed here, is built around a New Year's Eve theme, as an all-star lineup of guests, including Mel Tormé, Mort Sahl, Spanky and Our Gang, and Flip Wilson, help Robert Morse and E.J. Peaker ring in the New Year at the country club party. At 10:00 p.m., NET Festival presents an hour of singing, dancing, and comedy from Yves Montand; one skit includes a voiceover by Montand's wife, Oscar-winner Simone Signoret. At 10:30 p.m., WCCO carries tape-delay coverage of the Bluebonnet Bowl in Houston. At the same time, Johnny Carson hosts a live edition of The Tonight Show, with Tony Randall, Joan Rivers, Joel Grey, Jimmy Breslin, and Jan Peerce. I suspect there might have been a live cut-in to Times Square for the ball-drop, which may well have been hosted by network veteran Ben Grauer.

And where, you may ask, is Mr. New Year's Eve himself, Guy Lombardo? I wondered this myself, which caused me to do a little extra-curricular research that leads me to believe that we're in a period when Lombardo's famous show was syndicated to stations around the country, rather than being broadcast on CBS, as was usually the case. WCCO, the CBS affiliate, would have been the natural station to carry him, but as we saw, they're otherwise occupied; KSTP has Johnny, KMSP has a three-hour concert at midnight from Soul's Harbor Ministries in Minneapolis, and WTCN has late news following a North Stars hockey game. So I guess Guy was just out of luck this year.

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CBS kicks off 1969 with coverage of the 12th annual Cotton Bowl Parade from Dallas (9:30 a.m. CT), with Jack Linkletter and former Miss America Marilyn Van Derbur hosting. That's followed at 10:30 a.m. by the glorious Rose Parade from Pasadena, with the theme "A Time to Remember"; fittingly, the Grand Marshal is Bob Hope. CBS's coverage is anchored by Mike Douglas and Bess Myerson, while NBC has Betty White, Raymond Burr and Tom Kennedy reporting.

The parades serve as lead-in to the focal point of the day: football. We're in the pre-playoff era of the college game, which means everything important gets decided today, and the most important game of them all is the Rose Bowl (3:45 p.m., NBC), featuring undefeated and top-ranked Ohio State taking on second-ranked USC, the only blemish on their record being a season-ending tie against Notre Dame. In the game, O.J. Simpson—back when you could appreciate him as a football player and nothing more—is everything that anyone could hope for, rushing for 171 yards, including a scintillating 80-yard touchdown in the second quarter. It isn't enough, though, to overcome the super sophomores of Ohio State, led by quarterback Rex Kern, and the Buckeyes roll to a 27-16 victory and the mythical national championship.

The Rose Bowl is the centerpiece of NBC's Bowl Day schedule, which the network proudly calls the widowmaker. It begins at 12:45 p.m. with Arkansas taking on Georgia in the Sugar Bowl, with the #9 Razorbacks stunning the undefeated Bulldogs, 16-2; and it wraps up with the Orange Bowl (6:45 p.m.), with undefeated #3 Penn State and #6 Kansas hooking up in one of the most thrilling bowl games of the decade. With just over a minute to play and Kansas clinging to a 14-7 lead, a desperation punt block gives Penn State the ball at midfield; a deep pass sets up a touchdown by Penn State quarterback Chuck Burkhart with 15 seconds remaining to make the score 14-13. Penn State coach Joe Paterno, who later says that "If we couldn’t win, we’d lose," goes for two-points and the win, only to see Burkhart’s pass broken up in the end zone. But WAIT! Kansas is called for having 12 men on the field (they’d actually had 12 men for the last several plays, but weren’t caught until the fateful conversion attempt). Given a reprieve, Penn State doesn’t miss this time; the successful convert makes the final score Penn State 15, Kansas 14, in one of the great Orange Bowls of all time. It wasn’t for the national championship; it was better than that.


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During the 60s, the Ed Sullivan Show and The Hollywood Palace were the premiere variety shows on television. Whenever they appear in TV Guide together, we'll match them up and see who has the best lineup..

Sullivan: Tentatively scheduled guest: Eddie Albert of Green Acres; singers Lanie Kazan, Judy Collins and Earl Wilson Jr.; comedians George Kirby, Charlie Manna, and Elias and Shaw; singer instrumentalists Your Father's Mustache and the Chung Trio; and Burger's Animals.

Palace: Host Donald O'Connor presents comedians Sid Caesar and Bob Melvin; singer-ventriloquist Shari Lewis and Lambchop; singers Don Ho, Ted Lewis and Marilyn Maye; and juggler Rudy Cardenas.

You know that I generally try to present these listings as they're printed in the issue, but I couldn't bring myself to duplicate the typo that has Shari Lewis' puppet as "Lampchop." (It also ought to be two words, but we'll let that one go.) Nevertheless, she, along with Donald O'Connor and Sid Caesar, make for a strong leading trio, and while Ed's show is eminently watchable this week, I'm ending the year by giving a slight edge to The Palace.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever we get the chance, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the series of the era. 

Just as it used to be said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, it is true that the way to Cleveland Amory's heart is often through being different. Even if a show is not particularly good, it will always get points for offering something out of the ordinary, a change from the lockstep monotony so often seen on the tube. If it happens to be good as well, then you've won the jackpot.

Such is the case, this week, with ABC's comedy-drama Here Come the Brides, "a logging-camp saga, handsomely awash with interesting and even new-fashioned characters." It's set in Seattle, just after the Civil War, with Robert Brown playing Jason Bolt, a logging-company boss trying to recruit women to come to the Great Northwest as brides for the lonely male loggers. As Westerns go, the emphasis is on comedy rather than violence, a quality that sets the show in good stead in this, one of television's periodic anti-violence campaigns. It's a quality that Cleve approves of as well; of the pilot, he writes that "This is the kind of comedy that the average show would make so corny that you just couldn’t bear it. But in this episode, saints be, you not only bear it, you grin and do so."

In another episode, Amory singles out the performance of Don Pedro Colley, playing a "ruffian" named Ox. "Here again, what might have been another bust-‘em-down and shoot-‘em-up became something very different. . . Ox turned out in the end to be not only the hero, but also to give one of the most memorable performances we’ve seen this year.” It's this playing-against-type that works for the show, and works for Amory.

Here Come the Brides runs for two seasons, with Bobby Sherman and David Soul becoming the breakout stars of the series. Cleve gives it one of his best reviews of the year—but then, remember that he also loves The Good Guys.

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We still live in the days when it's something of a coup to attract a major motion picture star to make the move to the small screen, and few such coups have been bigger than CBS's successful bid to lure Doris Day to television. She's the subject of Dwight Whitney's snarky cover story.

Dodo's move to television was engineered by her late husband, Martin Melcher, who'd arranged a lucrative deal in which they would retain ownership of the negatives and control all rerun rights to The Doris Day Show. CBS was eager to engage Day as leverage against Lucille Ball's perennial threats to quit her show, but "[t]he reasons Doris accepted are somewhat more obscure," Whitney says; "She hardly needed the money. She already had, according to inside estimates, somewhere between $15,000,000 and $18,000,000, the happy results of 20 years as a superstar." But, of course, that turns out not to have been true; as we now know, Melcher and his business partner had squandered Day's earnings, leaving her massively in debt. While Day hated the idea of doing the show, she felt duty-bound by the agreement that Melcher had reached. Whitney also puts Day's move to television into the perspective of a star rapidly being left behind by a changing culture; as one producer puts it, "[T]he Doris Day-type, Goody Twoshoes kind of picture wasn't bringing the kids out. They would rather see Rosemary impregnated by the devil."

There's also Day's rocky relationship with the press. The press frightens her, prying into areas she'd rather leave unexplored: her two previous marriages, the smoking habit she gave up when she turned to Christian Science, her rocky family background. When Melcher created "Areas of Sensitivity" into which the press could not tread, they began to think there was something out there that they'd overlooked. As a member of the press, Whitney shares in these bruised feelings, and lets them show in his profile.

We know the rest of the story; The Doris Day Show is a success, "pure, unadulterated, wall-to-wall freckle, Doris-Daysies-in-my-garden type Doris Day, a real throwback to the good old days when there was no problem that goodness couldn't solve." The show runs for five successful years, and even though Day largely retires after it leaves the air, her legacy remains: countless hit movies and records, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and a reservoir of good will, with the public if not the press, that ensures lasting affection from the public until her death earlier this year.

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Let's take a look at the rest of the week—excepting New Year's Day; I think we've already covered that pretty well.

On Saturday, The Jackie Gleason Show (6:30 p.m., CBS) has another of the hour-long Honeymooners stories; this time, Ralph gets into the fight business, managing Norton's hick relative, Dynamite Moran. That's followed at 7:30 p.m. by My Three Sons, with Oscar-winner Ed Begley as the tyrannical carpenter building the nursery addition to the Douglas home. And Lawrence Welk and his Champagne Music Makers get ready to welcome the New Year. (7:30 p.m., ABC)

It's Championship Sunday in pro football, with both the NFL and AFL choosing their representatives for the third Super Bowl. It starts at noon on NBC, as Joe Namath and the New York Jets defeat the Oakland Raiders for the AFL crown; it ends at 1:30 p.m. with the Baltimore Colts besting the Cleveland Browns on CBS to win the NFL title. Nobody remembers these games, though; everyone remembers what the Jets did to the Colts two weeks later. If sports ain't your thing, boy are you in the wrong place—I mean, you have other options. John Secondari's documentary series Saga of Western Man presents "The Road to Gettysburg" at 3:30 p.m. on ABC; Senator George McGovern, a leading opponent of the Vietnam War, is the guest on Meet the Press (4:00 p.m., NBC)

Monday starts off with the ABC premiere of Let's Make a Deal (12:30 p.m.), which made the network move after having aired on NBC since its debut in 1963. I only ever remembered it as being an ABC show, until I fell into my TV Guide research. Later, a grim reminder of the reality of life in the city comes from NBC's two-hour White Paper report on the urban crisis, "The People are the City." (8:00 p.m.) My eight-year-old self rejected this civics lesson in favor of WTCN's coverage of college basketball's Holiday Festival championship game live from Madison Square Garden in New York (8:00 p.m.), won by UCLA. Following the game, WTCN switches to tape-delay coverage of the inaugural Peach Bowl, pitting LSU against Florida State.

Outside of New Year's Eve programming, the prize on Tuesday belongs to the network-television premiere of Come Back, Little Sheba, the 1952 drama that won Shirley Booth an Oscar for her big-screen debut, and co-stars Burt Lancaster. Judith Crist calls it "rich and rewarding," and says "it touches the heart with sincere sentiment and never for a moment leans upon the sentimental." Would that more movies were like that.

Thursday's highlight is a rerun of Mark Twain Tonight! (6:30 p.m., CBS), Hal Holbrook's acclaimed Tony-winning one-man show; Holbrook started his fabled Twain portrayal in 1959; he retires from the role in 2017, which, according to the always-reliable Wikipedia, means that Holbrook "has portrayed Twain longer than Samuel Langhorne Clemens did."

Friday, NBC's Prudential's On Stage presents "Male of the Species" (7:30 p.m.) a British import that presents a unique look at three men and their relationship with the same woman. (It was shown in three separate segments in England; here, it's being shown all at once.) The three men are portrayed by some of the best talent that Britain has to offer: Paul Scofield, Michael Caine, and Sean Connery. The "lady of the moment," played by Anna Calder-Marshall, interacts with each of the three in a different way: Connery plays her widowed father, Caine is a smooth-talking ladies' man, and Scofield is the lawyer whose eye she catches. Laurence Olivier hosts and narrates each of the stories.

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With that, it's the last TV Guide of 1968, and the last review of this year. By this time in 1969, TV Guide will have a new look: modern, streamlined, minimalist. (Kind of like the shows it covers, when you think about it.)

Next week starts a new cycle of reviews here, and hopefully we'll have 52 new issues to look at over the course of 2020. It should make for an interesting year, and I hope you'll join me for it. TV