This week in TV Guide: June 21, 1969

This week's cover story is a fascinating interview with Jackie Gleason by Larry King, who had the very easy task of asking Gleason what he thinks about a number of topics, and then sitting back and letting The Great One share what's on his mind. On the assumption that what's good for Larry King is good for moi, we'll follow suit and let Jackie take center stage; he is, as one might suspect, never at a loss for words. Therefore, here's Gleason on:

Fame: "It's a strange thing about popularity. You want it all your life and when you get it, after you're a success, anonymity is priceless. I’m a nut for five-and-ten-cent stores. | like to wander around notions counters and things like that. | can't do that today because a lot of people would stop me. Yet, I’d be disturbed if they didn’t. That's the paradox of this business. You want everybody to present you with accolades and you want everybody to say, ‘Oh, there he goes; there’s the Great'One.’ And, at the same time, you want to be alone."

The networks: "Every television performer has problems with his network. The performer always thinks he’s bigger than the network. It’s a constant kind of war . . . We were trying to put on a show and we would have people strolling in at all hours, the hierarchy you know, and they were telling us how to do particular things. So I went right to Mr. Paley [William Paley, chairman of the board of CBS] and said that I wanted a letter from him saying that I was to have sole control over my show, with no interference from anyone. He gave it to me. Now I just show it to these guys before they say anything to me."

Psychiatry: "I can see how it helps certain people, but I’ve never had a need for it. Once some friends told me that I was too fat because of some mental hangup. I thought it was because I liked to eat a lot. Anyhow, they suggested I see a psychiatrist, so I did. He weighed about 270 pounds. I tried to help him with his problem."

The Now Generation: "I'm encouraged by part of it. I feel some good is done and some bad. The trouble is they’re so mixed up you can’t discern who’s who. That’s the problem. Some are sincere and some are not. Some really want some good for everybody and the others are sincere about their insincerity. It’s tough. You can't tell what's constructive and what’s destructive. I don’t feel out of their world, but I guess I would if they were running the whole show. . .  I don’t rap the long-hair thing. Christ had long hair. So did Ben Franklin and those people. You can't judge people by the way they dress. A genius might be under a Daniel Boone jacket."

Religion: "Being a Catholic is no hangup with me. You know when you've sinned and you know the consequences. I thought of switching religions to have a more comfortable way of sinning. I studied them all. At first they appeared very attractive because they were easier, not because they made more sense. I believe you should stick with the religion you’re brought up with. Religion is an obligation . . .| know you don’t have free will. What you have is free choice. You can't jump over the ball park, but you can choose to think about it."

Living in Florida: "I’m here to stay. I’m addicted to golf and here I can play it all year 'round. The people here have been nice to me. You know, Larry, Howard Hughes offered me one million dollars, tax free, to take my show to Las Vegas. I almost fell out of my chair. The thought of one million clams, tax free, doesn’t happen every day. I thought about it and decided not to. I wouldn’t like Las Vegas no matter what I got."

Life: I’m 53 years old. I love what I do. I have all the money I'll ever need. I’m not looking for challenges. I do what I do very well and think I get better at it. My weight doesn't bother me because I don’t mind it. I like good food so I eat it. I smoke because it’s a habit I’m too old to break and I enjoy cigarettes, too. I drink because it’s a lot of fun. I admire great boozers. Guys who can go all day and never show it. I play golf every day and am more fascinated with it all the time. . . Everything I've wanted to do I've had the chance to do. Life ain't bad, pal."

As I said, never at a loss for words. They called him the Great One for a reason.

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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. 

When the summer season comes upon us, our man Cleve often turns his attention toward programs that wouldn't ordinarily find their way into his column, and this week is no exception, as we look at the venerable sudser As the World Turns, now in its fourteenth action-packed season. In case you haven't followed the show lately, here is a capsule summary for your benefit. It is, as Amory says, "really very simple, once you get the hang of it":

Start with Chris. Chris is married to Nancy, who is the mother of Bob, who was married to Lisa, who had an affair with Michael, who was married to Claire, who is the mother of Ellen, who is married to David, who is the father of Dan, who is married to Susan, but who is in love with Liz, who is dating Paul, who is doctoring Martha, who is the mother of Sandy, who is engaged to Bob, who was married to Lisa and is the son of Chris. See, we're right back to Chris. It’s just one big happy family circle, or, actually, two family circles—the Hughes and the Lowells—who, among other things, are congenital intermarriers. But don't worry about that. If you want to worry about something, worry about the illegitimate children. The place is crawling with them. 

Got all that? It provides us, says Cleve, with an example of what we've come to call hate viewing. You'd think that with all this bed-hopping going on, things would be pretty entertaining, but, in fact, "It's all so deadly serious that the best way to watch it is in a kind of negative way. Don't root for, root against." And it seems that this is exactly the way its "fans" watch it. When Eileen Fulton, who played villainess Lisa Hughes, left the series, fans were furious. "They had become so devoted to hating her that they demanded her return." She did return, eventually, but do you think that changed things? Upon running into a viewer who wanted to know if she "was" Lisa Hughes, Futon smiled and said she played the "part," whereupon the woman "slapped Miss Fulton in the face, shouting, 'You're mean! You're rotten! You're despicable!' She was, of course, a fan of Lisa's. As well as a typical soap opera fan, we have to think.

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Since we featured Jackie Gleason in this week's lede, it's only appropriate that we begin Saturday with a look at a full-hour Honeymooners skit, in which the Kramdens and Nortons continue their shark-jumping around-the-world trip (7:30 p.m., CBS). Don't think that things are all fun and games, though; while in Paris, Ralph and Norton are arrested for passing counterfeit francs. My money—and it's not counterfeit—is on them to work their way out of it. But if you want some real crime drama, stay up late for the 11:00 p.m. movie on KOVR in Sacramento: Compulsion, a fictionalized account of the Leopold-Loeb case, with Dean Stockwell and Bradford Dillman as the youthful killers, and Orson Welles in a brilliant performance as their attorney, who in real life was Clarence Darrow.

No "Sullivan vs. The Palace" this week, as Johnny Cash fills the summer Hollywood Palace slot; Ed's still hard at work, though, and his guests this week are Flip Wilson, Jackie Mason, country singer-guitarist Sonny James, singers Karen Wyman and Hal Frazier, and the Georgia Tech Glee Club. (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., CBS) 

Remember when Bill Cosby was a respected role model, a man who crossed the color barrier to become America's favorite dad? Yes, well, times have changed, haven't they? On Monday's NBC Children's Theatre (8:00 p.m.), Cosby hosts "As I See It," a presentation of short films made by youngsters between the ages of 6 and 12, who were given the opportunity to "film their world as they see it." They then talk about their lives with Cosby, who shares memories of his own childhood growing up in Philadelphia. Later, on Dick Cavett's prime-time show (10:00 p.m., ABC), Dick welcomes an eclectic big-name cast: opera star Beverly Sills, movie star Natalie Wood, political columnist Drew Pearson, and comedian Pat McCormick.

Remember when 60 Minutes was just a twice-monthly series of specials? That's how it was back in 1969, and on Tuesday's program (10:00 p.m., CBS), Yugoslavian leader Josip Tito is interviewed on the challenges posed by the youth movement and calls for more freedom. Tito was one of the rare Eastern block leaders who was respected in both East and West, and his ability to hold Yugoslavia together is even more impressive today given how violently the country fragmented in the post-Soviet era.

Wednesday features a rerun of last season's highly-regarded special The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (9:00 p.m., ABC), starring Jack Palance as the man with the split personality, produced by Dark Shadows creator Dan Curtis, and written by Ian McLellan Hunter. Over on NBC, Kraft Music Hall, which is hosted by Sandler and Young for the summer, features guest Sid Caesar. (9:00 p.m.). If you're looking for something a little different, here's a program that won't interfere with either of these shows: Book Beat (8:30 p.m., NET), with host Bob Cromie interviewing the legendary Lillian Gish on her book The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me. 

The most challenging show of the week—or any other week, for that matter—is probably The Prisoner, and the disturbing episode "The Schizoid Man," in which Number 6 is confronted by his double. (Thursday, 8:00 p.m., CBS) It's the second year in a row that CBS has used The Prisoner as a summer replacement series, and as was the case last summer, it's by far the best thing going. Cass Elliot has a variety special tonight (9:00 p.m., ABC), with an eclectic guest cast to say the least: Buddy Hackett, Martin Landau and Barbara Bain, Mary Travers, Joni Mitchell, and John Sebastian. And in the "wasted potential" category, the Thursday night movie is The Defector (9:00 p.m., CBS), Montgomery Clift's last film, a cold-war drama that, according to Judith Crist, is a run-of-the-mill antiheroic espionage film, "wasting talent along with fine location atmosphere."

The Name of the Game on Friday is "The Black Answer" (8:30 p.m., NBC), as reporter Jeff Dillon (Tony Franciosa) is thrown into the investigation of the killing of a non-violent black activist; the suspect is a black militant group called the Black Battery, led by Joe X (Ivan Dixon). A more conventional thriller finds The Saint embroiled in an assassination attempt against the prime minister of a British colony (10:00 p.m., NBC); Roger Moore is joined by Edward Woodward for the thrills.

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The Doan Report notes that the recent Emmy show was a very bad advertisement for television, but not quite in the way you think. The best comedy series award went to Get Smart, which had been cancelled by NBC (although subsequently renewed by CBS). The best comedy-writing award went to The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, likewise cancelled. And then there were the acting awards: best dramatic actor went to Carl Betz for Judd for the Defense, best actress to Barbara Bain of Mission: Impossible, and best comedy actress to The Ghost and Mrs. Muir's Hope Lange. You guessed it; Judd and Mrs. Muir were cancelled (although the latter was picked up by ABC), and Bain had already left M:I. And if that weren't bad enough, the award for best dramatic series went not to any of the commercial network contenders, but to NET Playhouse. There's no disputing the quality of that show, given that it was awarded a Peabody earlier in the year, but none of this speaks very highly of the commercial networks.

Doan also has a note on this little thing coming up next month called a moon landing. Can you believe it's almost here? NBC has announced plans to preempt 30 consecutive hours to cover the landing, including all 22 hours that astronauts Armstrong and Aldrin plan to be on the moon's surface, with coverage beginning at 11:00 a.m. on the Sunday of the landing. CBS and ABC quickly announced similar plans. Boy, I can still remember that like yesterday; one of the most amazing things those of us who were alive back then will ever have the privilege to see.

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Back on June 1, ABC had a special called D-Day Revisited, hosted by movie mogul Darryl F. Zanuck, who returned to the beaches of Normandy, where he filmed his epic The Longest Day in 1962. Zanuck provided commentary on the battles of that monumental day, accompanied by clips from the movie. 

I'm not sure what the network's expectations were for this program, but based on this week's Letters section, I think I can be fairly confident in saying that this is not what they were counting on. As you know, whenever there's a disputatious issue being discussed in the section, the editors present a cross-section of letters that roughly correspond to the ratio of opinions expressed in said letters. If that is, indeed, the case, I'd say the response was universally negative.  

We begin with this letter from Nicholas Snider of Coaling, Alabama, who compares the program to CBS's 1964 documentary in which the Normandy tour guide was none other than General Eisenhower himself. Zanuck's version, says Mr. Snider, "was so inferior as not to be noticed, were it not for its unrelenting vulgarity. That the program itself was completely inept is one thing, but that one hour of such shameless horn-blowing should even consider itself a tribute to human courage or the war dead is the ghastliest sarcasm of the season."

We next move on to U.S. Representative Frank Horton (R, NY), who accuses Zanuck of using the solemn occasion as a cheap ploy to promote the upcoming re-release of The Longest Day in theaters. It was, he says, "a transparent attempt to capitalize" on the efforts of the men who landed at Normandy, and adds, for good measure, "It seems in bad taste to tie the marketing of such entertainment to the gallant efforts of the men who died on those beaches a quarter century ago. The facade fell away quickly as soon as the first promotion spot came on the television screen, advertising the fact that the motion picture would “soon be seen at your neighborhood theater."

The coup de grâce, however, belongs to this brief letter, which serves, I think, as the final word on the issue. "Despite certain overtones reminiscent of a barker’s come-on at a county fair, and the self-glorification which seemed to emanate from ABC’s 'D-Day Revisited' program, neither a book called 'The Longest Day,' nor the screenplay of the movie, was written by Darryl F. Zanuck. In the midst of his celebration of himself, he might do well to read 'The Longest Day' dedication: 'For all the men of D-Day.' They, not Mr. Zanuck, made 'The Longest Day.'" It's signed "Mrs. Cornelius Ryan, Ridgefield, Connecticut, " and she should know: her husband did write the book and screenplay.

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MST3K alert: Village of the Giants (1965) A mysterious substance causes teenagers to become giants. Tommy Kirk, Johnny Crawford. (Sunday, 2:00 p.m., KXTV in Sacramento) There's no two ways about it; this is just an awful movie, so bad it isn't even good. What movies like this never try to explain is how, when people suddenly become giants, they don't just tear right out of their clothes like the Incredible Hulk. Somehow, though, even if they'd all suddenly become naked, I don't think that would help matters much.  TV  

This week in TV Guide: May 9, 1964

This TV Guide came out the day after my fourth birthday, but that's not why I picked it up. No, I ran across this isolated copy in an antique store and, despite the fact it was somewhat battered and missing a page, I bought it to find out just what that outlandish TV spoof was that fooled a nation. After all, how can you pass up a teaser like that?

Somewhat to my surprise, it turns out the answer is the classic British series The Avengers. Perhaps it's our American sensibilities, the era in which the show first came to our shores, the episodes that were shown here, or the fact that I'm looking back on it with the perspective of many years, but I have a hard time believing that anyone could ever have taken The Avengers seriously as a spy thriller.

That doesn't mean I'm taking the series lightly or putting it down. If you're been a regular reader, you know The Avengers is a favorite of mine, particularly Patrick Macnee's dapper John Steed. (Of course, there's the beautiful Honor Blackman, the painfully young Diana Rigg, and the shapely Linda Thorson, but that is a topic—or two, or three—for another day. Or week.) But really. Considering the leather catsuits that Honor Blackman wore, could you really have thought this was straight drama? Apparently so, based on the frustration expressed by producer John Bryce, who after two seasons has finally admitted that "The Avengers was conceived as a satire of counterespionage thrillers, but the British public still insists on taking it seriously."

To be fair about it, the early episodes when Steed was partnered with Ian Hendry, John Rollason and Julie Stevens, were of quite a different tenor. The series was in black and white back then, and shot on tape rather than film, giving the shows a somewhat stagebound feeling. Cathy Gale, Blackman's character, was smart, independent, and tough—every bit the equal of her male counterparts. And the villains were typical spies, not fantastic, Doctor Who-type creations that came later, such as the Aquanauts and the Cybernauts. Seeing these episodes in isolation, one could understand how viewers might have seen The Avengers as pretty much of a straight drama, albeit with some lighthearted moments.

Mrs. Peel and one of her own leather outfits

The straw that broke the camel's back, apparently, came a year or so into the run when critic Lionel Hale, appearing on a television panel show, expressed amazement that people didn't realize the show "was being played for laughs." The others on the panel protested—The Avengers didn't bill itself as satire, so how could this be the case? Such a British attitude, don't you think? After this little exchange, producer Bryce started looking back at past episodes, "moodily wonder[ing] what more he could do in the realm of wild unreality to get the idea over." After all, the show had already featured (1) a neo-Caesar, planning to conquer the world from the headquarters of his fertilizer factory, (2) Mrs. Gale running for Parliament while someone plants to detonate an H-bomb underneath the foundation, (3) Steed being brainwashed into thinking World War III has started, and (4) a pair of lawyers who sell perfect legal defenses to criminals before they commit crimes, with guaranteed acquittal promised. Bryce even contemplated "a program in which Mrs. Gale would be tied to the railroad tracks with the midnight express swiftly approaching. He said this was bound to give the game away."

By the time The Avengers made it over here, it fit in perfectly with shows like The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Batman, and other over-the-top adventure series; besides, American viewers never did get to see episodes with Mrs. Gale until they appeared on cable years later, and the earliest episodes would have been phantoms until the DVDs appeared. So perhaps we were already well prepared for the joke by that time. Still, I have to admit that the hook for this article turned out to be something of a letdown. I guess the joke was on me this time.

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

Sullivan: Scheduled guests include comediennes Phyllis Diller and Mary Tyler Moore; violinist Itzhac Perlman; vocalist Dusty Springfield; the Brooks Sisters, instrumental trio; comic Jackie Mason; the Cinco Latinos, vocal-instrumentalist quintet; and comic acrobat Doug Hart.

Palace:  Host Dale Robertson introduces actress-songstress Betty Hutton; comics Paul Lynde and Carole Cook; vocalist John Gary; French singers Varel, Bailly and Les Chanteurs de Paris; comedians Davis and Reese; juggler Dave Parker; the Bumpy Spectaculars, acrobats; Cueno's Horse Fantasy; and the Womenfolk, a singing group.

It's true that when it comes to someone like Phyllis Diller, your mileage may vary. (It may also be true that there's a lot of mileage there in the first place.) The same can't be said for the delightful Mary Tyler Moore, though, and the great Itzhac Perlman is evidence of the middlebrow culture that Sullivan understood so well—while, at the same time, Dusty Springfield represents the new pop mentality that's on the way. And Jackie Mason's a Sullivan favorite, at least for a few more months. Over at the Palace, I like Dale Robertson; he's my kind of guy. But I never was a fan of Betty Hutton; always thought she was too much over the top. Paul Lynde is good, but he needs to be playing off of someone else. The rest of the show doesn't do a lot for me, which means that this week, I'm giving the nod this week to Sullivan.

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

Although television is a medium that could still be said to be in its infancy, it's not too early to talk about traditions being formed and followed. And, says Cleveland Amory, if there's any program on the air today that can lay claim to being part of a tradition, it's CBS Reports. An outgrowth of the legacy belonging to Fred Friendly and Edward R. Murrow, CBS Reports operates on two basic principles: "What we don't know can kill us," and "We are nobody's kept men—not even our own company's." One can see, especially from that last quote of Friendly's, how there would eventually be a break between Friendly and CBS, but that's a couple of years in the future.

The result, according to Cleve, is that CBS Reports has, "season after season, come up with the finest documentaries this side of a good book." He cites such landmark presentations as "The Silent Spring of Rachel Carson" and "Harvest of Shame" as a retort to those who don't think there's anything worth watching on television today (see the stories below as examples), and adds that for much of the country, where newspapers and magazines are "either begging the issue or outright ducking it," it is the only news source that presents these stories from all sides; in typical Amory-speak, it is "on the side of the angels—not the angles." It's also ahead of the news: as early as 1962, before the Surgeon General's report on the effects of smoking, the show looked at "The Teen-Age Smoker."

This season alone has seen stalwart programs such as "The Legacy of the Thresher," which served both as a tribute to the men who lost their lives in the sinking of the atomic submarine and the lessons learned from what happened, that their loss might not be in vain; and "Case History of a Rumor," and how a whispered rumor about 124 foreign officers serving with American troops in a military maneuver in Georgia eventually became "100,000 Mongolians"—"barefoot" and "with rings in their noses." These shows have "both a point and a point of view—and, by the same token, there was a point to viewing them." (As I said last week, that "point of view" thing can be a problem, but we'll let it pass for now.) What is the secret to the success of CBS Reports in consistently producing such high-quality programs? Well, Amory says, among the many aspects, one stands out: "in five long years no member of the CBS Reports staff has ever been known to ask for, look at or even ask about a single, solitary rating report."

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I'm noticing a theme developing this week, that of quality television. It's interesting that in 1964 people are already looking back to the "good old days" of television, or at least taking stock of the industry and seeing what kind of progress has—or hasn't—been made. In the fourth part of a continuing series, TV Guide's editors have asked celebrities what they think of the current state of TV: has programming improved, what kinds of shows would you like to see, and what is the medium's greatest need.

I haven't seen the other articles in the series, but the respondents in this series seem like a pretty good cross-section of knowledgeable people: satirist and TV veteran Henry Morgan, writer and occasional teleplay author Gore Vidal, Dobie Gillis creator Max Shulman, novelist John Dos Passos, artist Leonard Baskin, photographer Philippe Halsman, TV host Lawrence Welk and Peanuts cartoonist Charles Schulz.

A portrait of your blogger as a young man  

In general, the consensus seems to be that TV has improved technically and in its ability to cover news and sports, but that the overall quality is either stagnant or has actually gone down. Vidal sees television with an "enthusiastic commitment" to producing junk, while Shulman blames a lack of talented writers and interference from network executives, and Baskin describes programming as "essentially pap." All bemoan the loss of live drama and anthology, and agree that there are too many commercials and too much pressure from advertisers (Halsman has the kindest word, saying that today's commercials "are now often more original and visually exciting than the shows they sponsor."), and Schulz talks of the need for the "artist to be able to record his work without its being torn apart and put together again by a host of others in authority." When asked what TV needs for the future, there are few surprises. The comedian Morgan would like more sketch comedy, comedy specials and comedy dramas; the musician Welk would like music "well played and in good taste"; the artist Baskin longs for the elimination of advertising, the novelist and historian Dos Passos would like more non-partisan news and analysis. Vidal comments acidly (and correctly) that television needs "a sense that getting people to buy things they do not need is morally indefensible," and Halsman looks back with nostalgia "of the time laughter came out of me and not out of a can."

In many ways, we could be having this conversation today. You'd see some of the same complaints about commercials and commercialism, you'd read comments about a need for more serious (and non-partisan) coverage of the news, you'd hear calls for more creativity and less interference. And yet this isn't really a situation where we look back at an era that was never as good as we thought it was, one that's been burnished by time. For those who know television history, one could indeed say that by 1964, the decline of TV from the Golden Age was well under way. Anthologies, the lifeblood of early television, were mostly gone, being replaced by sitcoms such as The Beverly Hillbillies—shows that, fairly or unfairly (and in the case of Hillbillies, I think the latter). 

In retrospect, of course, many of these shows—from Hillbillies and other sitcoms like The Addams Family, Ozzie & Harriet, and more—to programs such as The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Combat!, Burke's Law, The Bell Telephone Hour, Mr. Novak, The Defenders, The Fugitive, Slattery's People—are either critically acclaimed or fondly remembered. True, those critics from 1964 might reply that this says more, and not in a positive way, about our own tastes, but with the benefit of looking back, perhaps things weren't quite as bad as they seemed. Maybe the "new" shows didn't quite measure up to those of the past, maybe collective audience tastes were diminishing, but how many of us wouldn't gladly exchange them for what we have today? 

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Speaking of the sitcom (dumbed down or not), word on the street (or at least from TV Teletype) is that "Producers of Gilligan's Island are looking for three more regulars to co-star in the new comedy with Bob Denver, Alan Hale, Jim Backus and Natalie Schafer."  hose three would turn out to be Tina Louise, Russell Johnson and Dawn Wells. I don't know that I'd ever have considered myself a big fan of Gilligan, but I liked most of those people on it. And, as we read in books like Paul Cantor's Gilligan Unbound: Pop Culture in the Age of Globalization, Gilligan has a lot more to tell us than those critics back in the day might have thought.

There's also a note about some of the stories planned next season for The Famous Adventures of Mr. Magoo, and all this reminds me that these two shows were on opposite each other for Gilligan's first season, meaning that Jim Backus, the voice of Magoo, is the first—and, I think, the only—person in the history of television to appear on two different shows on two different networks on the same day and at the same time. He was, essentially, competing with himself, playing two distinct, and beloved, characters. Hard to imagine that nowadays.

I'd tell you more of the Teletype news from New York, but that's one of the pages ripped out of this issue. Someone thought a coupon for Kraft mustard was more important. They were probably right.

Keeping with industry news, the 1963 Emmy Award nominations have just been announced. The categories are a bit different from what we're used to today; in addition to best comedy, drama and variety series, there's an award for "the best program of the year." The nominees are "Blacklist," an episode from the CBS drama The Defenders (also nominated for best drama); a news special, "Town Meeting of the World" (CBS); and three documentaries: American Revolution of '63 (NBC), The Kremlin (NBC), and The Making of the President 1960 (ABC). Not surprisingly, "Making of the President" won, and while it would have been very difficult not to vote for a program about the election of a man who had been dead for six months, I think that on the whole, it probably won on its own merits. As I mentioned in this space last week, documentaries that are well done are very good.

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Continuing on this theme, a look at a couple of medical dramas posing provocative questions for the viewer.

In 1964, there are two major medical series on television: Ben Casey on ABC, and Dr. Kildare on NBC. The shows are quite different in many ways, but they share a similar structure, that of a young doctor paired up with an older mentor (Vincent Edwards and Sam Jaffe on Casey, Richard Chamberlain and Raymond Massey on Kildare.) They've also spawned similar shows about psychiatrists: Breaking Point, which spun off from Casey, featured Paul Richards and Eduard Franz as the junior and senior psychiatrists, while Kildare's companion*, The Eleventh Hour, had Wendell Corey (first season) and Ralph Bellamy (second season; there's also a pretty good article about him in this edition by Richard Warren Lewis) as the elder doctor, and Jack Ging as the young psychologist.

*Not technically a spinoff, but since it was originally conceived as an episode of Kildare, we'll count it.

Each of these series features plotlines this week that I think would be told differently were they on TV today. In Breaking Point (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m. CT, ABC), the subject is autism, in the story "And James Was a Very Small Snail." Autism wasn't a very well-known or understood condition in 1964, so the material was probably much fresher than it would be today. Dr. Thompson's (Richards) small patient is seven-year-old Petey Babcock, whose only means of communication  with his therapist is through a crayon. Thompson's burden is to convince Petey's parents and older brother that Petey's only chance at making progress is if he remains at the clinic. Meanwhile, later that week, The Eleventh Hour (Wednesday, 9:00 p.m., NBC) presents "This Wonderful Madman Calls Me 'Beauty," the story of a biochemist recently diagnosed with a brain tumor, who wants to forego treatment until he's concluded his research on isolating a life-prolonging enzyme, work that he feels is on the threshold of success.

In each of these episodes, we're presented with something of an existential dilemma that in my opinion would be missed by today's television. Kenneth Newell, the biochemist in Eleventh Hour, is emblematic of a man driven to succeed, so much so that he's willing to jeopardize his own life in the quest for an answer that may save many other lives. Not having seen the episode, I can't say for sure whether or not Newell acts from ego or altruism, which I suppose is why it's being told on a drama about psychiatrists instead of brain surgeons, but at the very least there's a potential for a real philosophical debate about the meaning of life and whether or not Newell's potential breakthrough is more important for him that to simply preserve his own life.

Breaking Point is, I think, even more fertile ground. Today this story would be on a legal show (something like The Good Wife, probably), debating the legal rights of the family vs. the health of Petey, not to mention the various theories on the causes of autism, hotly debated today, which cause nary a ripple in the water in this episode. All this, I think, overlooks the heart of the drama: the mystery of existence, the depth of the human mind, the dynamics of family relationships, what "quality of life" really means. It's handled sensitively and effectively, with understanding for all concerned: the doctors, the family, and Petey himself. I thought it was very well done, even considering that Breaking Point is a favorite show of mine.

I should add that this week's drama isn't confined to medical shows; this week, the legal drama The Defenders (Saturday, 7:30 p.m., CBS) presents James Coburn in "The Man Who Saved His Country."  Coburn plays Earl Chaffee, an ordinary man who becomes an overnight celebrity after killing a man in self defense. The man just happens to be a top Cuban communist, traveling around the country incognito. A lot of people, the Prestons discover, have a stake in this case—including the Federal government. The question persists: does Chaffee automatically become a hero for acting in self-defense, even though he didn't know the man he killed was a communist? And does it matter that Chaffee wasn't even aware of it at the time? Is someone justified in killing a person who "deserves" killing, regardless of the circumstances motivating the killing? You can see how this can lead to other questions, other scenarios, even ones that aren't part of the specific story. 

My point here is that these shows, and ones like them, are what I'd call idea shows. These aren't prime time soaps, serialized dramas, or shows featuring explicit violence or sex. Whether by design or not, their stories contain themes and plot points that can be thought about, discussed, debated. One of the themes that ran through last week's lead story on documentaries is the importance of packaging, of acknowledging "the dramatic composition to life." The existential point of the story doesn't have to be dull. Neither does scripted drama. And viewers don't have to be afraid of it, either.

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If I haven't put you to sleep completely with that last section, a brief mention of this week's cover story should be a good way to wrap things up. Combat! was not only the best of World War II dramas of the 1960s, it was one of television's best dramas, period, a gritty, realistic portrayal of an American squad of troops working their way across Europe following D-Day. (It also didn't hurt that all but the last season was done in black and white.) The stars, Vic Morrow and Rick Jason, more or less alternated leads each week, though they also could appear together in stories. Morrow is probably the better known of the two, but Jason was thought by many to be the likely star of the series when it began, and he's the focus of this week's unbylined cover story.

The portrait of Jason we're given reminds me a bit of a similar profile of Jack Lord that was done a year and a half ago; both come across as men trying just a little too hard to show everyone what Renaissance men they are. In Jason's case, it's how he prides himself on sculpting, painting, woodworking, leathercraft, carpentry, plumbing, landscaping, cooking, photography, dog training, fish breeding, guitar playing, singing, writing, bridge, chess, hunting, fishing, underwater swimming, and karate, in addition to starring in a weekly hour drama. He also reads "everything from Aristotle and Plato to Henry Miller," pilots an airplane, and speaks Spanish, French, Italian and Chinese. Makes me tired just to type that.

The typically unnamed friend concedes that Jason probably does "most, if not all, of these things" but adds that "he's not as much of an expert as he'd like you to think." His first wife (of three, one of whom Jason says he wasn't legally married to at all) says "he is very handy—but he never finishes anything." Like Lord, he's seen as something of a throwback to Hollywood's larger-than-life stars of its glamorous past; "Vic is more of an actor," another unnamed source says, "Rick is a star." But whereas Jack Lord clearly rubs some people the wrong way, Rick Jason is inherently more likable, with "a naiveté which might leave him open to ridicule were it not for his very guilelessness." 

Hidden behind that façade, though, one suspects that sadness lurks; Jason himself says that "I enjoy being an actor because I can stop being me. Like many actors, I don't particularly like myself." His parents never really accepted or acknowledged his success in acting, and for all the various activities he say he's engaged in, acting appears to be what really matters. "I can't remember ever wanting to be anything but an actor," he says. 

As Combat! progressed through its five seasons, Morrow came to be perceived as the face of the series; although Jason still received top billing every other episode, more and more of the stories focused on his character, and he wound up directing seven episodes in addition. Jason is philosophical about it all: "If those are the conditions that prevail, I won't chafe under them. I can't say I have any complaints about this business." The two actors bring different strengths to their episodes; it's really impossible to say that the series could have survived for five seasons without each one of them bringing his own particular talent to the story. Combat! is a show that has aged well, primarily because it combines the storylines of a period piece with the eternal truths of the human condition, making for an intense, gritty, occasionally heartrending series. Perhaps it isn't part of the top ten, but it's very close.

However, I can promise that after I've watched an episode featuring Rick Jason, I've had no particular desire to get up and do some woodworking, fix the plumbing, whip up a gourmet meal, train a dog, study Chinese, . . . TV  

This week in TV Guide: September 11, 1965

It's always a good idea to know what you're in for, and in this special issue previewing the new season, the Editors let you know right away: it should be an amusng season. "It won't be packed with entertainment innovations or impressive drama or cultural uplift, but by and large it should be amusing." (That's encouraging, I guess.) They go on; "The trial and error of past seasons apparently has proved to the networks that nighttime hours are most profitably filled with a week-in, week-out schedule of pure escape—comedy and games and vaudeville and adventure and soap opera. As a result, 97 of the new season’s 100 nighttime network programs are escapist; the other three are informational." (Perhaps they meant "weak-in, weak-out.") 

All is not lost, however; we can still look forward to programs that exhibit "high standards of quality and a semblance of balance" to our viewing. Those programs are called "specials," and one wonders if there is some wishful thinking involved in saying that they will "frequently" pre-empt the regular schedules. As always, however, "television will be most satisfying to those who use the on-off knob most discreetly." 

And with that as an introduction, let's dive right in. Just don't say you weren't warned. 

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The Editors, as you could probably tell, weren't exactly, shall we say, enthusiastic about the season's new shows, yet I think you'll agree that several of them have since attained, if not iconic status, a prized place in the classic TV pantheon. (It could, on the other hand, be that we've simply lowered our standards.) I won't say too much about any of them; I think you're probably pretty familiar with them. 

The weekend alone sees the debuts of Get Smart! and I Dream of Jeannie (both Saturdays on NBC) and The FBI (Sundays, ABC). Get Smart! is described as "a cluck-and-dagger series" (was this written by Cleveland Amory?), with deadpan comedian Don Adams as "the compleat secret agent" except for one thing: he's an idiot. Barbara Feldon is part of the group bailing him out. I Dream of Jeannie, meanwhile, stars Barbara Eden as a "dish" of a genie and Larry Hagman as a "poor sap" of an astronaut; since Jeannie "wears the latest in harem fashions, she’s bound to enchant at least part of the audience." Oh, I think she enchanted more than just a part of the audience, and she still does, 58 years later.

The FBI  "applies the melodramatic touch of Quinn Martin" to actual cases from the files of the Bureau, with Efrem Zimbalist Jr. playing stolid G-Man Lewis Erskine. There's also mention of "a running romance—and an accompanying conflict" because Lew Erskine's daughter (Lynn Loring) is in love with Erskine's partner (Steven Brooks), but Erskine doesn't want her marrying an FBI agent. That subplot lasted about nine episodes before everyone figured out love and justice didn't mix. The lack of attention paid to the private lives of the agents is one of the big things that helped this series last for nine seasons. 

Monday sees the debut of Run for Your Life (NBC), with Ben Gazzara as the man suffering from a terminal illness, trying to "cram a full lifetime into a day—or a minute." Tuesday, the standout is ABC's cavalry sitcome F Troop, which only runs two seasons but takes hold in the hearts of many a viewer, including our friend Hal Horn; its stars include Larry Storch and Forrest Tucker as frontier versions of Bilko, and Ken Berry as the helpless commander. Wednesday gives us a quartet of solid hits: The Big Valley (ABC), starring Barbara Stanwyck as the matriarch of a sprawling family; Lost in Space (also CBS), about "an average American family pioneering the frontiers of the future"; Green Acres (CBS), the latest member of the Hooterville universe, with Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor as the farm transplants; and I Spy (NBC), with Robert Culp and Bill Cosby as globe-trotting spies.

On Thursday, CBS premieres their first movie series, the Thursday Night Movies, which promises 30 big-time features throughout the season. (If this week's selection is any indication, they're more than living up to the hype, but you'll find that out below.) If you want to catch the movie, though, you're going to have to pass up the other sterling debut of the night, The Dean Martin Show (NBC), which Dean describes as "the kind of show where a man can take his wife and kids, his father and mother—and sit around a bar and watch." The blurb promotes big name guest stars but "no sketches"; of course, we know that the sketches, with Dean valiantly trying to keep a straight face, become one of the show's highlights. 

Watch Honey West on a new Magnavox; $498.50    

Friday won't be left out in the cold, beginning with CBS's The Wild Wild West; it would be called a "steampunk"  Western today, but back then it was just a lot of fun, with Robert Conrad and Ross Martin. The preview sees Martin as more of a sidekick, a "Gabby Hayes" to Conrad's leading man, but we know that Martin more than held his own throughout four successful seasons. There's also Hogan's Heroes (CBS), "escapist entertainment in more ways than one," with Bob Crane leading his merry bunch of POWs through six seasons. And then there's "television's slinkiest sleuth," Anne Francis as Honey West (ABC); it lasts only one season, but maintains a popular cult following, and goes into the history books as the first American television action series to feature a female lead.

There are a few other shows that merit mention, even though they weren't big hits: The Loner (Saturday, CBS) is a Rod Serling-helmed Western starring Lloyd Bridges; although it too runs for just a single season, it's admired by many today simply because of Serling's reputation. Since it came out on DVD, people have also found out it's pretty good. Trials of O'Brien (Saturday, CBS) is known today as Peter Falk's favorite series of all those he worked on; to my mind, the combination of courtroom drama and domestic humor doesn't really work, but I'll admit I could be wrong about that. Gidget (Wednesday, ABC), stars Sally Field and Don Porter, and just most people agree it just wasn't very good. And then, there's—well, there's My Mother the Car (Tuesday, NBC), which stars Jerry Van Dyke and the voice of Ann Sothern, and remains one of the dumbest ideas ever for a television show. I won't say any more.

So as we look back on everything, there are some pretty successful series debuting this season, shows that to this day have loyal and loving audiences, and have guaranteed their spots in pop culture history. I counted thirteen, not including the honorable mentions; most of them have since come out on DVD, and you can find many of them on YouTube or the Internet Archive as well. I'd think that over the last 40 years or so, networks would have given a lot to have had a season introducing as many popular shows as this.

Of course, there are the also-rans as well, series such as The Wackiest Ship in the Army, The Legend of Jesse James, The John Forsythe Show, A Man Called Shenandoah, The Steve Lawrence Show, Please Don't Eat the Daisies, O.K. Crackerby!, The Long, Hot Summer, Laredo, Mona McCluskey, Tammy, Camp Runamuck, The Smothers Brothers Show (the sitcom, not the variety show), Hank, Mr. Roberts, and Convoy. All of them have their fans, none of them had the ratings to last more than a season or—in the case of Laredo and Daisies—two.

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First Lady Johnson tours D.C.    
on Thanksgiving (ABC)   

Since the Editors made a point of praising the many specials on tap for the season, I guess I ought to spend a couple of paragraphs on these as well. And they're good, too: Julie Andrews and Gene Kelly team up for a special on NBC; Harry Belafonte does one for CBS, and A Charlie Brown Christmas makes its premiere in December on CBS. Carol Channing (CBS), and Sammy Davis (ABC) host variety hours; Jack Benny, Danny Thomas, Perry Como, and Bob Hope have their regular specials on NBC; Mary Martin returns with Peter Pan, also on NBC; and Andy Griffith hangs out with Jim Nabors and Don Knotts in a CBS special

On the cultural front, Sir John Gielgud performes selections from Shakespeare on Ages of Man for CBS; NBC Children's Theatre presents "Stuart Little" (narriated by Johnny Carson) and others; the United Nations series (Carol for Another Christmas, The Poppy is Also a Flower) returns with two more ponderous dramas on ABC; and Hallmark Hall of Fame boasts six programs for NBC. Peter Ustinov plays the voice of Michelangelo in a two-part special narrated by Jose Ferrer (NBC), and Dick Van Dyke hosts the late Stan Laurel on CBS. 

We're also promised space shots and news specials on all three networks, parades on Thanksgiving and New Year's Day, the Ringling Bros. Circus on NBC, awards shows, and beauty pageants. On the sports front, NBC televises football from the colleges and the AFL, plus the World Series; CBS has the NFL, the Masters golf tournament, and the Triple Crown horse races; ABC has the U.S. Open and PGA golf championships, plus games of the week for major league baseball and the NBA. They all sound special to my way of thinking.

And by the way, if you enjoy these highlights of the fall season, you'll want to tune in again on Wednesday, when I'll have a special insert from this week's issue!

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Meanwhile, time and tide and television wait for no one, so while we're talking about what's upcoming, let's not forget to watch what's on right now.

I'm blowing off the usual "Sullivan vs. The Palace" feature this week for two reasons: first, The Hollywood Palace is a rerun, with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans hosting, and we already looked at that episode here. More important, however, is the headliner for Ed's 18th season opener: The Beatles.

It is the fifth and final "live" performance by the Fab Four on Sullivan, although it was taped on August 14 for airing on this date;* hence, the precise details on their playlist. Interestingly, the Beatles don't kick off the show; they're the fourth act on the bill, following Soupy Sales, Cilla Black, and Fantasio. They perform "I Feel Fine", "I'm Down", and "Act Naturally" in their first set, and then close the show with "Ticket to Ride", "Yesterday", and "Help!"   

*The Beatles were in New York for their legendary Shea Stadium concert on August 15, so their apperance was worked around this schedule. The Sullivan show was usually aired live; I've read contradictory accounts as to whether this particular show was taped in its entirety on August 14, or only the Beatles segment, which was then integrated into the live broadcast. A close look at the way Ed's pocket handkerchief is folded suggests it could have been the former, but maybe Ed just left his hanky in the suit for a month. You can watch the entire show here and make up your own mind.

The show garners Ed a 60 share of the audience. It's also the last black-and-white episode; from  next week on, the show will be broadcast in color. Too bad the studio wasn't ready for that in August.

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Barbra Streisand with her Emmy    
for "My Name is Barbra." It was   
close, though: she won by a nose.   

Sunday turns out to be a big start to the new season; following Sullivan and the Beatles, it's the 17th annual Emmy Awards (10:00 p.m., ABC on tape delay), hosted by Sammy Davis Jr. at the Hilton Hotel in New York, and Danny Thomas at the Hollywood Palladium. This year, the Academy is rolling out a new format for the show; "the categories have been boiled down to four, and the word 'excellence' has replaced 'best,' so that more than one nominee in each category—or none—may get the Academy's nod. The categories: Outstanding Program Achievements in Entertainment; Outstanding Individual Achievements in Entertainment; Outstanding Program Achievements in News, Documentaries, Information and Sports; and Outstanding Individual Achievements in News, Documentaries, Information and Sports." 

In the event, only eleven awards are handed out, covering just five different programs. The big winner is NBC's Hallmark Hall of Fame, with three wins for "The Magnificent Yankee" (not Babe Ruth or Mickey Mantle, but United States Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes), including "Outstanding Program Achievements—" ah, hell, I'm still calling it "Best Show"—along with Alfred Lunt as Best Actor, and Lynn Fontanne as Best Actress. This new format is used only this year; next year's Emmys go back to the old way, which has been used ever since. 

By the way, NBC led with 21 nominations, followed by CBS with 14. ABC garners exactly two.

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Merv Griffin was never one to shy away from controversy (as CBS finds to its dismay during his brief tenure with the network), and on Friday, his syndicated show welcomes one of the most controversial literary figures in the country, poet and playwright LeRoi Jones. (11:20 p.m., KSBW in Salinas) You can see a clip from the interview here

Jones, one of the leaders of the black liberation movement. Jones, who will later change his name to Amiri Baraka, is one of the leaders of the black liberation movement, has spoken out against Dr. Martin Luther King's anti-violence campaign, and has been accused of, variously, anti-Semitism, anti-white racism, armed resistance, and advocating rape; if that doesn't quality as controversial, I'm not sure what does. Merv's other guests include musical-comedy performer David Burns, Boston columnist George Frazier, comic George Carlin, and singers Fleury D‘Antonakis and Johnny Desmond, and that's about as eclectic a combination of guests as you can get. If I'm not mistaken, in the clip you'll see Frazier sitting behind the desk with Merv; he had been an influential jazz columnist for the Boston Herald, while Jones, in 1963, had written Blues People: Negro Music in White America. Meanwhile, Carlin was one of the best-known countercultural comedians in the business. so there's some synergy in the guest lineup; I would have enjoyed seeing them all sitting on the couch together. 

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    Warren McVea in the Astrodome

The rest of the week's fun begins Saturday with the season kickoff of NBC's college football Game of the Week (10:45 a.m. PT), as Tulsa takes on Houston in the historic first football game ever played in Houston's "Harris County Domed Stadium," known to one and all as the Astrodome.* Although the listing doesn't mention this, the game is significant for one additional reason; Houston's Warren McVea becomes the first black player in the university's history. He'll be with them next season as well, when Houston plays Washington State in the first football game ever played on artificial turf. TV Guide refers to previous games between the two teams as being "high-scoring," but Tulsa comes out on top in this one, 14-0.

*Not the first indoor college football game, though, nor even the first one televised, as we saw here.

Sunday, like Saturday, starts off with sports: the American Football League opens its sixth season (and first on NBC) with the New York Jets visiting the Oilers in Houston (11:00 a.m.) Note that this game is not played in the Astrodome, but at Rice Stadium; the Oilers wouldn't move into the Dome until the following season. Meanwhile, the U.S. National Tennis Championships finish up at Forest Hills, New York (2:00 p.m., ABC), with Spain's Manuel Santana defeating Cliff Drysdale of South Africa to win the men's championship; Margaret Smith beats Billie Jean Moffitt to win the women's title. It's not called the U.S. Open yet, since professional players aren't allowed to compete.  

Monday, the new-look 12 O'clock High debuts, as Paul Burke takes over the lead from Robert Lansing when General Savage's plane is shot down. (7:30 p.m., ABC) Don't get me wrong; I like Paul Burke a lot, and he was excellent in Naked City, but Quinn Martin never should have replaced Robert Lansing. Elsewhere, the new season of Hullabaloo opens with Sammy Davis Jr., fresh from the Emmys, hosting; the guests are Sonny and Cher, The Supremes, the Lovin' Spoonful, and the Strangeloves. (7:30 p.m., NBC)

Speaking of format changes, it's not just 12 O'clock High; the fourth-season opener of McHale's Navy (Tuesday, 8:30 p.m., ABC) sees McHale and his entire crew (including Fuji) transfered to southern Italy, along with Binghamton and Carpenter. I've never been sure just how plausible this would have been, and besides: I thought the Americans wanted to win in Europe. But maybe I'm overthinking this; perhaps I should learn how to watch TV. For a more realistic view of warfare, the Korean War drama The Bridges at Toki-Ri, starring William Holden and Grace Kelly, makes its television debut on NBC's Tuesday Night at the Movies. (9:00 p.m.)

Among Wednesday's debuts, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet begins its 14th season, and its first in color. (7:30 p.m., ABC) Compared to them, returning hits like The Beverly Hillbillies (fourth season), The Virginian (also fourth), and The Dick Van Dyke Show (fifth season) look like pikers. And here's another series that found out a format change doesn't necessarily mean an improvement, either in quality or ratings: Burke's Law is now Amos Burke, Secret Agent. (10:00 p.m., ABC) No Detective Tilson. No Detective Hart. No Henry, the chauffeur. No charm. No fourth season.

Here's a change that worked! My Three Sons starts its sixth season on a new network, CBS, after five seasons on ABC. (Thursday, 8:30 p.m.) It will remain on CBS for seven seasons, until it goes off the air in 1972 after a run of 12 years. And just to show that the Tiffany Network is serious about making tonight special, My Three Sons is followed by the debut of the CBS Thursday Night Movie and the TV debut of one of the greatest political thrillers ever: The Manchurian Candidate. (9:00 p.m.) Frank Sinatra stars, in what I think is his finest role, along with Angela Lansbury, Laurence Harvey, Janet Leigh, and James Gregory. 

On Friday, it's The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s turn to turn to color. as Rip Torn stars in part one of the second-season opener "The Alexander the Greater Affair." (10:00 p.m., NBC) This is, I think, U.N.C.L.E.'s best season, but its successful first season, with its cheeky combination of spy thriller and satire, has already influenced other shows—including, unfortunately, Burke's Law. And on the late night schedule, it's the 1959 movie The Wasp Woman (11:20 p.m., KSBW). "Janice Starlin’s beauty treatments are made up of wasp enzymes—but they have unexpected effects." Susan Cabot and Anthony Eisley star, and if this movie sounds like it belongs on MST3K, you're almost right: it was riffed on Cinematic Titanic, Joel Hodgson's successor to MST3K, which featured many of the show's original performers. And speaking of MST3K. . . 

 

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MST3K alert: It Conquered the World (1956) A scientist discovers that one of his associates is helping some beings from outer space to conquer the Earth. Peter Graves, Beverly Garland, Lee Van Cleef. (Saturday, 5:30 p.m., KSBW). "He learned almost too late that man is a feeling creature… and, because of it, the greatest in the universe. He learned too late for himself that men have to find their own way, to make their own mistakes. There can't be any gift of perfection from outside ourselves. And when men seek such perfection… they find only death… fire… loss… disillusionment… the end of everything that's gone forward. Men have always sought an end to the toil and misery, but it can't be given, it has to be achieved. There is hope, but it has to come from inside — from man himself." TV