This week in TV Guide: January 6, 1968

Well, here we are with the first issue of 1968, and after everything that happened last year—the "long hot summer" of race riots, especially in Detroit and Newark; the expansion of the war in Vietnam; the Apollo 1 fire; the Six-Day War in the Middle East; and that's just for starters—it's a new year, and with it a fresh start. I mean, 1968 can't help but be better, right? Right?

l  l  l

If you're hoping for something "fresh and innovative" on television this coming season, you're probably out of luck. That's the message from Richard K. Doan at this week's Doan Report, where the word is that "Unless the networks are keeping something up their sleeves—which is possible but unlikely—the new prime-time-shows next season will be just more of the familiar stuff." 

The dilemma that network programmers face is a twin one: on the one hand, they feel "it is too risky and expensive to try the untried." (Nothing new there.) On the other hand, though, they've already tried "just about every variation in a known successful series formula." One executive reports the mood in Hollywood as being "panic-stricken. Nobody knows which way to turn next." The elephant in the room, if there is one, has been the prime-time movie, which has overrun all but the most popular of weekly series. Those shows—think Gomer Pyle, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Bonanza—can't last forever, though; sitcom "nonsense" abounds with its endless variations, Westerns are just about dead, and the only new variety shows are those helmed by Jonathan Winters on CBS and Rowan and Martin on NBC. With Doris Day the only big name on the calendar for the new season, the odds of finding something to take on the big, bad movies, and the ratings, seem pretty slim; NBC's plans to add a third movie night in the fall are proof of that.

When you look at the programming for the next few seasons, you see the problem. Next year's schedule includes 60 Minutes, which is probably as close to "new and innovative" as it comes, and the biggest drama series are Hawaii Five-O and Columbo. ABC's Movie of the Week series, comprised entirely of made-for-TV movies, adds to the movie onslaught. Old, tired formats such as Danny Thomas's return in Make Room for Granddaddy, and The New Andy William Show, prove to be short-lived. In the end, the most ground-breaking shows of the next few years are a pair of sitcoms: All in the Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show.  

Oh, and there's one other series that makes its debut in a couple of seasons, one that's still on today: Monday Night Football. But hold that thought; we'll be back to it at the end.

l  l  l

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. 

The creative team responsible for The Dick Van Dyke Show—Bill Persky, Sam Denoff, Sheldon Leonard, and Carl Reiner—have been at work on a new sitcom for CBS, Good Morning World. The problem, says Cleveland Amory, is that it was "obviously not very hard." The idea behind the show is, apparently, "not to have any idea at all. Just have five characters in search of an offer." Well, that's not a very promising start, is it?

The five characters in question are a pair of radio disc jockeys, their big, bad boss, the wife of one of the DJs, and their next door neighbor. And if the show really does have no idea, then that's offset by the fact that it also has no stars. The best of them, Joby Baker, as good-guy DJ David, "somehow manages to get some real fun into his role," but his sidekick, Ronnie Schell, the swinging sidekick Larry, "comes on strong as the bad guy" who wants to stay single, for at least the length of the series. "Our guess is he'll make it in a walk." Billy de Wolfe, the boss, "mugs and shrugs his way through his role" (if you've ever seen the animated Frosty the Snowman, where he voices the evil magician, you'll understand what Cleve's talking about), while Julie Parrish plays Joby's wife, and Goldie Hawn, who has bigger and better things ahead of her, is the neighbor, who's in love with Ronnie. 

At least, Amory says, "if you've got no basic idea for your show, then you've at least got to come up each episode with something pretty new and different. "Typical plots include Sandy, stuck with a girlfriend who's starting to get "ideas," telling her he can't marry her because doctors don't know how long he has to live. (But, then, whose doctor can?) "The important thing is to live each day to the hilt—with a smile on your face—like Ben Gazzara." Unfortunately, that was the high point of the episode; had they really wanted to be clever, they might have had the DJs interview Gazzara as himself, plugging Run for Your Life. Sure, it's on another network, but why not? And then, there was the story about the duo having to do their show on location from the Sunshine Dude Ranch. Only problem is that there's been a misunderstanding: it's actually the Sunshine Nude Ranch. Well, you get where it goes from there. Points to the writers for coming up with something different each week. But wouldn't it have just been easier to come up with an idea instead? "[N]ot a big one, mind you, just a teensy weensy little one."

l  l  l

The bowl games are over, and the Super Bowl isn't until next week, but that doesn't mean we don't have football on tap, including the most meaningless football game of the season, the Playoff Bowl (Sunday, 11:00 a.m. PT, CBS). The concept of the Playoff Bowl, a charity game played in Miami to benefit the NFL players' pension fund, pits the second place teams of the Eastern and Western Conferences in a game for third place; it was originally called the Runner-Up Bowl, a more descriptive if no more glamorous title. If you're a football fan, you're no doubt aware of the growing trend in the college game of players opting out of meaningless dot.com bowl games in order to eliminate the risk of getting injured prior to the draft. You also probably know that the Pro Bowl, the NFL's all-star game, was changed to a skills competition a few years ago, for more or less the same reason. Now imagine telling these players that they're expected to play in a nationally televised game to determine the third best team in the league—or "second loser," if you will. No wonder the game ended after ten years. For the record, in this year's game, the Los Angeles Rams defeat the Cleveland Browns, 30-6.

  

A far more meaningful version of the game can be found in the critically acclaimed documentary The Violent World of Sam Huff (Sunday, 6:00 p.m., CBS), a profile of the New York Giants star linebacker originally telecast in 1960 but being rerun now because of Huff's recent retirement. Narrated by Walter Cronkite, The Violent World of Sam Huff was the first film to afford viewers the opportunity to actually see and hear the sounds of pro football, via ground-level cameras and a microphone embedded in Huff's uniform. The "controlled violence" of the sport thrilled and captivated the audience, and, coming as it did on the heels of the 1958 NFL Championship Game, aka "The Greatest Game Ever Played," and with Cronkite's gravitas providing a suitable background, The Violent World of Sam Huff played a major role in the growing popularity of professional football. More than 60 years later, the documentary still holds up today, as you can see here.

l  l  l

January traditionally marks the start of television's second season, so there are a good number of premieres and specials among the week's offerings. 

Saturday Night at the Movies opens the season with an instant classic: the network TV premiere of Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 nightmarish The Birds, starring Rod Taylor and Tippi Hedren (9:00 p.m., NBC). Hitchcock called it his "Vision of Judgment Day," while Judith Crist calls it "tedious" for as long as the humans hold center stage. "But when those winged creatures come to the fore the blandness of Tippi Hedren and stolidity of Rod Taylor are overshadowed and Hitchcockian terror takes over triumphantly. It’s enough to make you kick the next pigeon you come across."

How about Jack Palance as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? He's the star of a two-and-a-half hour adaptation this week, produced by Dan Curtis (Sunday, 9:00 p.m., ABC), and featuring Leo Genn, Oscar Homolka, Billie Whitelaw, and Denholm Elliott. It's been a troubled production from the start: Jason Robards was originally scheduled to star (that would have been interesting), working off a script by Rod Serling. However, Robards was unhappy with the script, and shooting delays led to him dropping out. Curtis hired Ian McLellan Hunter for a new script, hired Palance (whom he'd worked with in Dracula) to replace Robards, and moved production from London to Toronto, where shooting would be cheaper. It was nominated for four Emmys, including Outstanding Dramatic Program; you can see it for free at Tubi.

On Monday, Jacques Cousteau debuts the first of a proposed twelve-part documentary series (telecast over three years) called "The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau" (7:30 p.m., ABC). Although Cousteau had first appeared on ABC in 1966 in a film called "Conshelf Adventure," it is "The Undersea World," which winds up producing 36 episodes and lasts until 1976, that clinches his reputation as "television's most celebrated maker and presenter of documentaries about the underwater world." Although it's not mentioned in this issue, Rod Serling narrates the series on ABC (Richard Johnson does the honors on the BBC); later on, it will be the equally distinguished Joseph Campanella.

Monday night, Robert Wagner's a guest on The Joey Bishop Show (11:30 p.m., ABC); Tuesday, it's the "Special World Premiere" of Wagner's new series, It Takes a Thief (8:30 p.m., ABC). Coincidence? I think not. For those of you who don't remember the premise, Wagner appears as Alexander Mundy, a convicted cat burglar who's paroled from prison in order to ply his trade for a thinly-disguised version of the CIA, with Malachi Throne as his handler, Noah Bain. It's a fun series, running for three seasons; some of the best episodes involve Mundy's father Alistair (Fred Astaire), also a master thief. Tonight's 90-minute debut, directed by Leslie Stevens, pulls out all the stops, featuring a guest cast including Senta Berger, John Saxon, and Susan Saint James, with cameos from Raymond Burr, Wally Cox, Joe Louis, Leslie Nielsen, and others. It's up against The Red Skelton Hour (8:30 p.m., CBS), in which Red presents a one-man show reviewing his career from vaudeville days to the present.

The Avengers returns for a new season on Wednesday (7:30 p.m., ABC), with Steed and Mrs. Peel investigating the case of a treasury official who's been shrunk to miniature size, along with the Rolls-Royce he was driving. I've often wondered about the usefulness of a shrinking machine, whether it could be used for good purposes as well as world domination—and by the way, just how would that work ruling the world as a giant? It didn't do much good for that guy living in the beanstalk, did it? On the Kraft Music Hall, Bobby Darin is the host and the theme is "It's a Grand Night for Swinging" (9:00 p.m., NBC), with his guests Bobbie Gentry, George Kirby, and Bobby Van. One of Kirby's bits involves an impression of Bobby Kennedy; I wonder if they tried to get Bobby Vinton or Bobby Rydell?

Robert Wagner isn't the only one doing the late-show promo circuit; on Wednesday, former astronaut John Glenn appears on The Tonight Show (11:30 p.m., NBC) to promote his program the following night, Great Explorations (Thursday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), a David Wolper production (his second of the week!) in which Glenn follows the trail taken by Henry Stanley in his search for Dr. David Livingston. The show, and Glenn's role in it, is the subject of producer and writer John Peer Nugent's article. Glenn, whom the team comes to call "Bwana Satellite," takes an active role in the making of the show, having insisted before accepting the assignment that "The emphasis must be not on what the explorers did so much as what their discoveries did, or did not do, for the peoples and lands discovered." At one point Glenn is forced to drop a rogue elephant with a couple of well-placed shots from his rifle. It is a task which gives him no great pleasure; " 'In the war, I had to kill and I didn’t like it then,' he said, oblivious to the shouts of congratulations. 'I don’t like it now either.' " It's interesting to see Glenn here in something other than as either an astronaut or a politician.

On Friday night, it's the premiere of the nighttime edition of The Hollywood Squares—not the syndicated version, but the network run that would last until September as a midseason replacement for Accidental Family (and NBC didn't make an accident with that change, did they?). Tonight's players are Edie Adams, Morey Amsterdam, Milton Berle, Raymond Burr, Wally Cox, Abby Dalton, Nanette Fabray, Buddy Hackett and Charley Weaver (9:30 p.m., NBC). If that's not your style, you might prefer the CBS Friday movie, A Shot in the Dark (9:00 p.m.), the second outing of Peter Sellers' bumbling Inspector Clouseau. It's once again directed by Blake Edwards, and having Elke Sommer in it doesn't hurt. 

l  l  l

Robert Musel takes a look at Lee Bouvier Radziwill's upcoming acting debut in ABC's remake of Laura, scheduled for next week. In a previous TV Guide review from last year, I shared some of the reviews from that broadcast, including star Robert Stack's comment that "the production resembled a junior high school effort." Musel takes a closer look at the drama behind the scenes of David Susskind's production, which he describes as "Society Girl Becomes Overnight Star." That's not what happens, though. 

Lee Radziwill and Farley Granger 

Susskind, well-aware of the challenge of turning Jacqueline Kennedy's sister into an instant star despite the lack of acting experience, surrounded her with a veteran cast, including Arlene Francis, who thinks that she'll turn out all right even though "she’s had no time to develop her talent or her technique." "Her performance is a tribute to what can be done with a camera, boom shots, writing, lighting, direction and patience," Arlene continues. "And she looks ravishingly beautiful."

Lee Bouvier grew up in a world of privilege, wealth, and social position. She's married to Prince Stanislas Radziwill, a real-estate millionaire and descendant of Polish royalty. She campaigned vigorously in 1960 for her brother-in-law, John F. Kennedy. She regularly appears in fashion magazines and on best-dressed lists. But inside, she harbored the desire to be an actress; her friend, Truman Capote, convinced her to follow that dream. Two years of private coaching followed, and last June she debuted in Chicago in a stage revival of The Philadelphia Story. It was the first time in her 34 years that she'd appeared on any professional stage. Representative of the reviews was one critic who commented, "A star is not born." She insists this is not a hobby, that if she didn't try it, "I'd never know if I had it in me."

Susskind says all the right things. "I really think she'll be a star," he says, comparing her to another princess, Grace Kelly. "A star is one who attracts an audience. . . She has that quality." Farley Granger, who plays her lover, says "She's working hard," and that she's learning. Robert Stack calls her "uncomplicated and untemperamental," and adds that "she doesn’t seem to have any of the qualms that a beginner usually has." Musil himself concludes by saying that she's "already thinking about her next starring role." It never comes.

l  l  l

One last word about football. We've got three letters to the editor this week lamenting the amount of football on television each week: Patricia McClintic of Jeffersonville, Indiana asks, "Why must we be subjected to football game after football game for two whole days every, weekend?" while Mrs. Jim Grace of Shepherd, Michigan says, "I've sat at home Saturday after Saturday afternoon and steamed because channel after channel has nothing but sports to offer." And it's not just limited to the football widow, either; Charles A. Westfall of Severance, NY writes, "Frankly I am so fed up with football games I could scream!" And this was when the usual compliment of games amounted to five or six per weekend; it now starts on Thursday, ends on Monday, and encompasses perhaps a dozen games on broadcast television, plus dozens more on cable or streaming.

But to the point of this week's letter-writers, the fact is that nobody seems to think there's too much football on television today. Well, I don't literally mean "nobody"; I'm exaggerating to make a point—the point being that, according to Sportico, 82 of the top 100 most-watched U.S. TV broadcasts of 2022 were NFL games, and of the remaining 18, five were college football games. Only six of the programs were non-sports related, those being the Oscars, the Macy's parade, and news/political events. "The nearest a scripted TV episode got to the upper echelons was Paramount Global’s multi-network simulcast of the Season 5 premiere of Yellowstone, which claimed the No. 132 entry with an average draw of 12.5 million live-plus-same-day viewers." CBS's FBI, the highest-rated entertainment series on television, averages 7.21 million viewers per week, compared to the games in the Sunday football window, which average 25.8 million per week.

True, streaming, on-demand programming, and viewing habits, among other things, have changed everything. Still, the overall dominance of football on TV is impressive. I suppose the good news for people like Mrs. Grace is that she has more non-football shows than ever to choose from. That is good news, right? TV  

This week in TV Guide: December 30, 1961

The new movie, Maestro, directed by and starring Bradley Cooper, tells the story—OK, a story—of Leonard Bernstein, the famed conductor and composer, one of the giants of the classical/pop culture crossover of the 20th Century. This week's feature article, by Edith Efron, also tells a story of Leonard Bernstein—specifically, the Young People's Concerts that began on CBS in 1958 and ran for 13 seasons and, I think, represent his most important and lasting contribution to classical music.

Efron joins Bernstein following his first telecast of the 1961-62 season, a study of impressionism that, lucidly and literately, explains the musical style to an audience of children who listen, transfixed, to Bernstein's talk—lecture would be far too stuffy a word to describe how he communicates the complexities of musical theory, in such a way that both children and adults can understand such concepts as how bitonality aids in creating the dreamy image that is impressionism. The whole of the interview takes place in Bernstein's cramped dressing room, where we're exposed to the full-on magnitude of the maestro's blinding rock-star celebrity. 

It's a chaotic scene, with Efron (the "girl reporter") crammed into a crouching position under the sink while Bernstein tries to shave without cutting himself. She's hard-pressed to get her questions in between interruptions: elegantly-dressed ladies praising Bernstein's performance; children asking for autographs; photographers asking him to pose standing up, sitting down, pretending to be conducting ("I can't fake conducting," Bernstein snaps at one); aides and press agents, all looking for a piece of the maestro. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I have to wonder if it could possibly capture the kinetic energy of the scene.

In between it all, though, we do get some interesting perspectives on Bernstein's thoughts about music. Asked why children should be introduced to music, he replies, almost disbelievingly, "The purpose is pleasure. Pleasure—nothing else. Music makes life more enjoyable, more exalted, more berable." If it's true that many children consider listening to classical music a duty, it's "[b]ecause so many adults consider it as a duty." It becomes a challenge if the parent doesn't like classical music; "Children are sensitive to parents' likes and dislikes. On the other hand, music is there. A child can discover it independently." And there should be no limit to the kind of music that a child is exposed to; "Very few things are beyond a child's comprehension. Any good music will do. The only thing to watch out for is not to strain a child's attention span." 

We learn some other things about Bernstein's philosophy. While scrambling around for his shirt (it turns out he already has it on), he proffers the idea that there is no such thing as bad taste in music. "There is only good art and bad art," he says, extending the analogy, "good Beethoven and dull Beethoven, good rock 'n' roll and bad rock 'n' roll." The last catches Efron off-guard—the master of classical music praising rock music? "Elvis Presley," he goes on. "There's one, 'I'm All Shook Up'." I like it. Presley's performance is fantastic." 

Through all this, I think we get an insight into why Bernstein was such a good teacher. Because he gives children credit for being able to comprehend ideas and concepts, he doesn't talk down to them—instead, he breaks ideas down into more digestible bits and pieces, using references that are relevant to them. He doesn't tell them to be interested in classical music; instead, he demonstrates what makes it interesting, trusting that they'll accompany him on the journey. He conveys the passion, the love he has for music, confident that they'll catch the bug as he once did. 

I was a faithful viewer of the Young People's Concerts for the few years that I was of an age to understand them. I was fortunate to be introduced to classical music in school, by the Young People's Concerts that the Minneapolis Symphony staged. I had a mother who appreciated classical music, and was willing to invest in it on my behalf. Even though I've never played an instrument, it has, in Bernstein's words, provided pleasure.

It's true that public schools don't make that investment any more. Television doesn't either; it hasn't invested in anything particularly artistic in decades. The audience for the long-haired stuff is getting older all the time, and nobody quite seems to know how to attract younger audiences. That's an issue for another day. But if Maestro the movie does well, one can hope that, no matter how fleeting, classical music can be cool again. If that happens, then the maestro will have succeeded once again.

l  l  l

New Year's Day, in 1962 as well as 2024, is Monday, and that means one thing: football. Well, actually it means more than that, but we'll get to the rest later. But, as Melvin Durslag writes, football fans are "up to their eyeballs" in bowl games, and the colleges are loving every minute of it. 

There are twelve bowl games scheduled for the end of the season (as contrasted to the 42 being played this year), and none of them are named after corporate advertisers. But, as any fan can tell you, there are only four that really matter, and all of them are being played on January 1: the Rose, Sugar, Cotton, and Orange Bowls. They are the games "in whose stadia loot is collected in the largest quantities and whose fame is enhanced each New Year's Day with national television before enormous audiences."

Despite the revenue and exposure generated by the games, there are critics in the educational realm who feel the games are unnecessary, creating an overemphasis on athletics. That the regular season usually ends in late November, with the national champion already chosen before the bowls are played, only strengthen the argument. It's one reason, in fact, why, Ohio State's faculty council declined the invitation to the 1962 Rose Bowl despite the Buckeyes winning the Big 10 championship, which would ordinarily have resulted in a trip to Pasadena. They hoped their decision would "vastly improv[e] the university's reputation as an academic institution fit for service in a Cold War political economy."* At any rate, as Durslag points out, money being thrown around by TV has boosted the overall budgets of the participating schools and their conferences to such an extent that any sentiment to the contrary is becoming a moot point.  

*I went into the behind-the-scenes drama of the 1962 bowl selection process in this 2012 article, which you can read here.

Which brings us to the big day itself, starting at 12:45 p.m. ET with ABC's coverage of the Orange Bowl, pitting #4 LSU against #7 Colorado, reported by Curt Gowdy, Paul Christman, and Jim Simpson. (LSU 25, Colorado 7) At 1:45 p.m., NBC kicks off the first of its New Year's Day doubleheader, with undefeated national champion Alabama taking on #9 Arkansas in the Sugar Bowl; Lindsey Nelson and Art Gleason are behind the mic. (Alabama 10, Arkansas 3) If that's not enough for you, CBS joins the fray at 2:15 p.m. with the Cotton Bowl, as Tom Harmon and Johnny Lujack covering the action between #5 Mississippi and #3 Texas. (Texas 12, Mississippi 7) Finally, it's the Granddaddy of them all, the Rose Bowl, beginning at 4:45 p.m. on NBC, with Mel Allen and Braven Dyer calling the game between #6 Minnesota, becoming the first Big 10 team to make consecutive appearances in the Rose Bowl, and unranked UCLA. (Minnesota 21, UCLA 3) 

These games were, practically speaking, exhibition games, originally meant to boost tourism in the host cities. They did not count in the standings, the national champion already having been selected; and they served as a reward for excellence, with players often expressing preferences based on the cities they'd like to travel to. (New Orleans was always a popular destination.) Perhaps it wasn't the best way to choose the best team, and Heaven knows there was plenty of corruption in college sports even then, but it seems like it was much simpler, maybe even more fun than it is today. I feel for those who never got a chance to experience it, even just as a fan.

l  l  l

There's more to New Year's than football, though, hard as it may be to believe. I myself used to scoff, back in the day, at the idea that there could be anything more important than the bowl games. Not being a partier, my idea of a good time on New Year's Eve was sitting down with one of the lesser bowl games and then watching the ball drop in New York. The parties that we did go to were sedate ones with family or friends, always in someone's home. Lately, it's been New Year's Eve marathons with The Three Stooges, Thin Man or Matt Helm movies, and so on. If we make it to midnight, it's been a good day.

So I have to ask, is New Year's Eve still a thing? Do people go out, or did the virus finally kill all that off? It was a thing back in 1961; as kind of a pre-show, Gordon and Sheila MacRae host Highways of Melody (10:00 p.m., NBC), a musical hour sponsored by Cities Service (Citgo), which explains the "Highway" motif. Their guests include George Chakiris, Buddy Ebsen, Kathryn Grayson, Jack Jones, Rita Moreno, Jane Morgan, the Cities Service Singers and Dancers, and Paul Lavalle and the Band of America.

At 11:15 p.m. on NBC, the serious shows begin. Bandleader Xavier Cugat and his then-wife, singer Abby Lane, host a New Year's Eve party from the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York. (NBC). Just before midnight, the cameras switch to Times Square, where Ben Grauer covers the ball drop. Mr. New Year's Eve himself, Guy Lombardo, does the honors on CBS (11:15 p.m.), with newsman Robert Trout in Times Square.

That brings us to New Year's Day itself and the parades, and you'll notice the plural. It actually starts on Saturday night, with live coverage of the King Orange Jamboree Parade in Miami, with Jim McKay and George Fenneman describing the spectacular (7:30 p.m., ABC). This parade ceased after the national television contract ended (a misfortune that also befell the Cotton Bowl Parade), but it made the game itself feel more special, more than just a simple football game.

This being a Philadelphia edition, it's appropriate that Monday morning begins on multiple channels with the Mummers Parade (9:30 a.m., WFIL and WCAU in Philadelphia, plus stations in Lebanon, Harrisburg, and York), a marathon that runs nearly five hours, either non-stop or sandwiched between bowl games, depending on the station. At 11:30 a.m. on NBC, it's the Granddaddy of all parades, the Tournament of Roses, live and in color (except for the first 15 minutes). Former Tournament president John Davidson narrates the opening portion of the telecast, reviewing the history of the parade and what to expect today. He's then joined by Betty White and NBC newsman Roy Neal (a curious choice) for commentary. Among the stars appearing in the parade are actors John McIntire, Scott Miller, Frank McGrath, and Terry Wilson from Wagon Train; John Russell and Peter Brown from Lawman; and Grand Marshal Albert Rosellini, governor of Washington, who was probably chosen based on Seattle hosting the 1962 World's Fair.

l  l  l

That seems like a pretty big start to the year, but there's more. Not content to turn the spotlight over completely to the college game, the NFL Championship is Sunday, with the New York Giants taking on the Green Bay Packers in the first championship game ever played in Green Bay (1:45 p.m., NBC). Lindsey Nelson, who heads to New Orleans after the game to cover Monday's Sugar Bowl, and Chris Schenkel are on the play-by-play. The Packers, who lost in heartbreaking fashion to the Philadelphia Eagles in last year's title tilt, rout the Giants 37-0, the start of a reign of terror over the rest of the league that will result in five championships over seven years (including three in a row), plus the first two Super Bowls. They remain the last team to win three consecutive league championships. It's the oldest NFL Championship game for which the original TV broadcast exists; you can see the game in its entirety here.

Also on Sunday is a curious program that attracted my attention for an even more curious reason. It's called Let Freedom Ring (3:00 p.m., CBS), featuring Richard Boone, Laraine Day, Howard Keel, and Dan O'Herlihy, and starring the group now known as the the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square. It's an hour of patriotic music, interspersed with dramatic readings and performances by the four stars; Boone recites the Gettysburg Address, for example, and Day reads Lincoln's famous Letter to Mrs. Bixby; neither of these choices was coincidental, given that 1961 was the 100th anniversary of Lincoln's presidency. It is, in its way, a perfect example of a Sunday afternoon program, one that would have been at home on Omnibus. It's a bit static, very serious, and ultimately sounds a hopeful note for the nation as the new year approaches.

As for the curious reason why this stood out for me: the program was rebroadcast by CBS on Saturday morning, November 23, 1963, as part of the network's coverage of the aftermath of JFK's assassination. You might think this an odd choice, and if it were to be seen purely as an entertainment show, you'd be right. But the very nature of it being static, serious, and hopeful is why it was shown: it was a reminder to a shell-shocked nation about the greatness of America, reflected in part through the words of its first martyred president. Of the several memorial concerts broadcast over that weekend, I think this was the only one not specifically done for the occasion. But then, maybe this kind of thing only interests me. 

With the bowl games taking up Monday, there are several weekday programs making their debuts on Tuesday, including Your First Impression, a new game show hosted by Bill Leydon (noon, NBC). It's a variation on the mystery guest segment of What's My Line?, with a panel of celebrities trying to guess the identity of the guest based on clues given to them by Leydon; Dennis James is a regular panelist and fills in for Leydon on occasion. The show has a healthy run, lasting until June, 1964. Also premiering this day is Floyd Kalber's five-minute afternoon newscast (2:25 p.m., NBC), a staple for many years. By the way Kalber's nickname was "The Big Tuna"; has any newsman ever had a better one? Jane Wyman returns as host and occasional star of her eponymous dramatic anthology series (2:00 p.m., ABC), and NBC debuts the serial Our Five Daughters (3:30 p.m.), "the story of Helen and Jim Lee and their daughters." It had better be a short story; the series is gone nine months later, barely time for one of the daughters to have a baby.

There's a pictorial feature this week on how makeup artists prepare Sebastian Cabot's beard for the detective series Checkmate (among other tidbits, the reddish-brown hair is sprayed with glit paint, since it shows up as jet black on B&W), and his beard needs to be in good form in Wednesday's episode (8:30 p.m., CBS), as Jack Benny makes his TV dramatic debut playing a comedian who discovers someone has planted a bomb in his suitcase. Also on Wednesday, Bonanza stars Lorne Greene and Dan Blocker guest on Perry Como's Kraft Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC).

The end of the year is a great time for year-end reviews: poet John Ciardi hosts Accent on 1961 (Thursday, 9:00 p.m.), a special edition of his weekly CBS series, and his words accompany a picture montage of the major events of the past year. And what a year it was—Alan Shepard's space shot, Roger Maris's 61st home run, Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall, the Freedom Riders in the South, the JFK inauguration, and more. The flip side of a year-end review is a preview of the coming year, and that's what NBC has in store with Projection '62 (Friday, 9:30 p.m.), with Frank McGee hosting hosting the network's domestic and foreign correspondents in a look back at the year past, and predictions on what might be ahead. And it tells you something about how large news staffs used to be, with McGee talking to correspondents covering Berlin, Moscow, Tokyo, Africa, South America, India and the Middle East, London, Paris, Southeast Asia, Cuba and the Caribbean, and the White House. Not for nothing was NBC the leading news source on television.

l  l  l

On the cover this week is Cynthia Pepper, star of the new ABC sitcom Margie, set in the flapper era of 1926. Actually, Jim Henaghan's story is as much about her stage father Jack, a failed vaudevillian who reared Cynthia for the very purpose of stardom. Despite being called "one of [20th Century Fox's] most valuable properties," her career is of limited duration; Margie is her only starring role in a series, and she might be just as well-known for playing Midge in Elvis Presley's Kissin' Cousins. I wonder what Leonard Bernstein thought of the music in that? Still, as I always note in situations like this, her movie career lasted a lot longer than mine. 

There's also an interesting behind-the-scenes look at one of the most high-pressure quiz shows on television, and the exhaustive preparation required by the participants prior to appearing on it. No, it's not Jeopardy; that doesn't even premiere until 1964, and anyway, as far as intellectual wattage is concerned, it doesn't even begin to compare to the show in question, G-E College Bowl. I always considered it a moment of great pride to be able to correctly answer one question on that show; I'm not sure that the hardest question on today's Jeopardy would even make it to a practice round of College Bowl. At the time of this article, Allen Ludden is the host of College Bowl, but as his other show, Password, adds a nighttime edition to its weekly daytime version, he cedes the role to Robert Earle, the host whom I remember. I was always sorry about the show leaving the air; t the time, with violent dissent running wild on college campuses, General Electric decided it was bad optics to be associated with such radicals. It was revived for a couple of seasons in 2020 with Peyton Manning as host, but I'm sorry—after Ludden and Earle (and Art Fleming, who hosted an earlier revival), it's hard to take a show like College Bowl seriously with Peyton Manning as host. 

l  l  l

And so we come to the end of another year of "This week in TV Guide," and for the first time in many, many years, we've had 52 new issues, with no repeats from previous years, something I'm very pleased about. Unlike many collectors, I don't own a full set of TV Guides covering multiple decades; in fact, I don't even have a complete set of issues from any single year. I've been fortunate enough to piece together this year thanks to a combination of issues I own, those loaned to me by others, those from the Internet Archive, and some from other online sources. Although I've got a couple of dozen lined up so far for next year, with more to come, I don't know if we'll ever see an entire year of new issues again. 

Nevertheless, it's been satisfying to pull it off, and I've got you to thank for helping me do it. I've done around 500 through the years, and if you have an issue you'd like to see me cover, feel free to email me about it. And when we come back on Monday for the listings, they'll be from a new year, 1962, and we'll be in a new year, 2024. Until then, have a safe and happy New Year. TV  

This week in TV Guide: August 23, 1969

Sometimes, the luck of the draw means you've got to go with what you have, and when the big sports event of the week is the Little League World Series (Saturday, 5:00 p.m. PT, ABC), you can be pretty sure this is one of those times. Such is often the case in summer, when there's not much new on, what is new often isn't very good, and like the people watching back in the day, you have to hope you catch something you missed the first time it was on. Don't worry, we'll make it—we always do.

For instance, we've got an interview with Stockton Helffrich, director of the National Association of Broadcasters’ Code Authority—or, as Richard K. Doan's article bills him, "television's chief censor." We've seen articles about television censorship many times; you can probably find them over on the right sidebar. The question of censorship (or "censorship") has been a running theme in TV Guide over the decades, so we're only going to hit the highlights. 

Two of the most controversial programs of recent history are Laugh-In and Turn-On, in both cases due to the sexual content and use of double-entrendres. Helffrich calls Laugh-In "an approach to topical humor, including sexual humor, which to me rather consistently. and effectively stops short of going too far." Turn-On, one of the most notorious bombs in TV history, is another case: "It happened we inadvertently missed that show," he explains. "We normally monitor every premiere. I asked for a rescreening of it because I received one or two station comments on it.* Personally, I felt it was heavy-handed and did not, in some sequences, stop while it was winning. It might have succeeded, I think, if they had approached it just a little more gingerly."

*"One or two"? Within two days, 75 ABC affiliates, roughly half the network's total, had told executives they wouldn't air the show again.

He believes the Televison Code needs updating. "Society is tolerating greater candor, and the Code endeavors to respond to the sentiments of broadcasters and viewers alike." He says that the networks have "cut 'way back on violence," but that shouldn't be taken to mean there was too much in the first place. "[W]e do know there is public concern about violence and a fear that the broadcast media might have been contributing to it, so we've inhibited ourselves out of a preoccupation with that concern." His office may have had something to do with the cutback, but "I belive the networks would have done it anyway, of their own volition."

What I find most interesting is the proposal by Senator John O. Pastore, longtime critic of violence on television, that the networks ought to submit their programs to the Code Authority for prescreening. That's not as bad as having to submit them to the government, of course, but this sounds suspiciously to me like social media companies screening content for "fake news" and the like. And Helffrich seems to share this: "Our position, I'd say, parallels that of many broadcasters, including the networks: a concern that this could lead to prior censorship." And anyway, NBC and ABC already do this in the case of their pilots; "It's a consult-and-advise arrangement. If we question something, it's up to the network to decide what to do about it. If we disagree after-the-fact, either of us can urge a review by the Code [Review] Board."

The Television Code was suspended in 1976 after a judge ruled that the Family Viewing Hour violated the First Amendment, and the Code was eliminated altogether in 1983. Following that, the networks, now forced to self-regulate, established their own codes. I don't know what those codes are, partly because I don't want to take the time to research them, and partly because what we see on contemporary television leads me to wonder if there are any codes at all. Helffrich comments that "if you don’t hear from people, you just have to assume you are doing pretty much what they want and expect." Either that, or they just don't give a damn anymore.

l  l  l

Perhaps the whole world isn't watching it, but Saturday night's movie The Whole World Is Watching (9:00 p.m., NBC) is a repeat of the pilot for The Bold Ones segment "The Lawyers," with Burl Ives, Joseph Campanella, and James Farentino starring as a legal team (older man, two brothers) defending a student leader accused of murdering a college campus policeman during a riot. It's topical, to be sure, but, according to Judith Crist, it's also too slick by half; "unfortunately some well-established realistic atmosphere is vitiated by the derring-do tactics of the defense attorneys and a soothe-the-Establishment conclusion." This fall, The Bold Ones, comprised of "The Lawyers," "The New Doctors," and "The Protectors," will premiere on Sunday nights.

On Sunday, it's a rerun of a different—and more welcome—kind. Walt Disney's World (7:30 p.m., NBC) begins a series of repeats of "Davy Crockett—Indian Fighter," starring Fess Parker and Buddy Ebsen, which fjrst aired as the eighth episode of ABC's Disneyland on December 15, 1954. The series of five episodes, which ran in 1954-55, was a huge hit, reintroducing Crockett as a national legend, making a star out of Parker, and making a rich(er) man out of Walt Disney; by the end of 1955, "Americans had purchased over $300 million worth of Davy Crockett merchandise, including coonskin caps and bubble gum cards." The NBC repeats mark the first time that the Crokett episodes have ever been seen on TV in color.

One of the rare original programs this week is an NBC news inquiry into the Pueblo incident. (Monday, 7:30 p.m.) The Pueblo, for those of you who may have forgotten (1968 was a busy year, after all) was an American spy ship captured by North Korea in January 1968, a week before the start of the Tet Offensive in Vietnam. The crewmen of the Pueblo were held for 11 months before beng released, and the ship's captain, Lloyd Bucher, was repeatedly tortured by the North Koreans; Bucher and his crew were eventually released after 11 months, although the ship remains with the North Koreans to this day. The documentary, reported by Frank McGee, focuses on why the ship wasn't better protected, why the government didn't respond more forcefully, and why more classified documents weren't destroyed. It's not one of the more shining moments in American history.

On Tuesday, a rerun of the Star Trek episode "The Lights of Zetar" (7:30 p.m., NBC) stands out for one reason: the script is written by puppeteer Shari Lewis and her husband Jeremy Tarcher. I don't suppose we should be surprised, since she wrote more than 60 books for children, but as far as I know, this represents her only foray into this kind of teleplay. We shouldn't discount her husband's contribution to this,either: his sister is novelist Judith Krantz. Later, in one of those "failed-pilot playhouse" presentations, Kerwin Mathews and Cal Bellini star as a couple of paranormal private investigators hired by Marj Dusay to rid her mansion of ghosts in In the Dead of Night (8:30 p.m., ABC). It's co-produced by Dan Curtis; I'm surprised the network didn't pick it up. You'll have to skip this week's edition of Liberace's summer variety show to see it, though; Lee's guests are French singer Sacha Distel, comedian Stu Gilliam, British singer Anita Harris and the Duke of Bedford, who shows pictures of his ancestral home Woburn Abbey. (8:30 p.m., CBS). Maybe there's a reason for all those summer reruns after all.

Rod McKuen was all the rage in the sensitive Sixties, and he's on TV twice this week. On Saturday, the "poet-singer" was the celebrity bachelor (!) on The Dating Game (7:30 p.m., ABC), and on Wednesday the "poet-songwriter" appears as one of Don Ho's guests on the Kraft Summer Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC). In case you don't remember Rod McKuen, first of all, good for you. Second, my favorite description of McKuen's poetry comes courtesy of the always-reliable Wikipedia, which quotes critic Frank Hoffmann that McKuen was "tailor-made for the 1960s ... poetry with a verse that drawled in country cadences from one shapeless line to the next, carrying the rusticated innocence of a Carl Sandburg thickened by the treacle of a man who preferred to prettify the world before he described it." True, I'm not a fan of McKuen, but I repeat this (I could have chosen worse) mostly to indicate what kind of a decade the 1960s had become by 1969. 

(By the way, promotion for The Bold Ones continues on Wednesday; this time, the "New Doctors"  E.G. Marshall, John Saxon and David Hartman appear on NBC's Today (7:00 a.m.) If only Rod McKuen had been on The Bold Ones as a guest, they'd have had it made.)

Thursday's best is rerun of It Takes a Thief (10:00 p.m., ABC) featuring guest star Paul Henreid, making a rare television acting appearance (he was mostly a director by then; he directed 28 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, for example) as a Swiss police inspector on Mundy's trail; Mundy's being framed for crimes all over Europe. The episode also features the final acting appearance by the lovely Gia Scala, who dies in 1972, age 38, from a drug and alcohol overdose.

The Name of the Game wasn't the greatest series of all time, but it was often an interesting one, a 90-minute wheel series (like The Bold Ones!) featuring rotating stories starring Tony Franciosa, Robert Stack, and Gene Barry, and revolving around the world of magazine publishing. Friday night's episode, "An Agent of the Plantiff" (8:30 p.m., NBC) stars Barry, who's involved in a libel action in London, but it becomes must-see based on an outstanding lineup of guest stars: Honor Blackman, Maurice Evans, Brian Bedford, Murray Matheson, and Anthony Caruso. Beat that!

l  l  l

Believe it or not, the moon landing was only last month, but the residue from that monumental event continues to linger. For instance, we're starting to see ads touting CBS's "First on the Moon!" coverage, with Walter Cronkite and Wally Schirra defeating "Network B" (NBC) and "Network C" (ABC) decisively in the ratings. 

According to this week's As We See It, the editors concur in the good judgement of the viewers, lauding Cronkite for "service far above and beyond television’s normally high standards of space-shoot coverage." Cronkite's dedication to the space program, including his research on facets of the mission, were evident in his abiloity "to tell his viewers not only what was happening, but why it was happening in that particular way." In conclusion, "The other networks did creditable jobs and had a number of fine, resourceful touches to brighten the long-hours of Apollo 11's epic journey. Their commentators were good. Walter Cronkite was superb."*

*Interestingly enough, a number of fellow space buffs whose opinions I value have been critical of Cronkite's work, particularly on the pivotal moment when Neil Armstrong was about to set foot on the moon, noting that Cronkite midjudged when that first step would occur, and almost spoke over Armstrong's "One small step" words. I think Cronkite was very good, but I don't disagree with their assessment of this moment.

The Doan Report of August 2 also referenced those viewer numbers for Cronkite's coverage, but that gets a dissenting view from a couple of this week's Letters to the Editor. Mr. and Mrs. Robert W. Pierce of Gibsonia, Pennsylvania "watched Frank Reynolds and Jules Bergman on ABC and thought their coverage of Apollo 11 was marvelous," whiloe Ruth F. Lea of Columbus Ohio was tuned to NBC. "The presentation was superb," she writes, "and the lack of any mention of this in 'The Doan Report' is a serious oversight. Of course, if Mr. Doan's eyes were glued only on CBS, he couldn’t very well report on NBC." (For what it's worth, having seen the moon coverage from all three networks over the years\, I thought they were all pretty good, but I have to admit I share the Pierce's fondness for portions of the ABC covearge.)

Finally, A CBS News Special examines "The Heritage of Apollo" (Tuesday, 10:00 p.m.). A week before the moon landing, Mike Wallace traveled through the Greek Islands with prominent figures involved in shaping the future, including city planner Constantinos Doxiadis, anthropologist Margaret Mead and engineer R. Buckminster Fuller. Their conversations form a part of Doxiadis's Delos Symposium, as they discuss "the links between the ideology surrounding the Greek god Apollo (associated with enlightenment), man’s journey into space and his prospects here on earth." Heady stuff, but then it was a heady time, and a perfect time for some serious reflection on the state of things.

l  l  l

I mentioned at the very top that the Little League World Series was the biggest sports event of the week. While that's true as far as actual competition goes, what I found most interesting was the release of the 1969-70 TV football guide, on pages A-6, A-7, and A-16. It gives us the weekly schedule of televised games for the AFL, the NFL, and the NCAA—what time they start, and what channel they're on

This interested me for several reasons, not the least of which being just how much more football there is on television today than there was 50-some years ago. Back then, many of the college games were selected at the beginning of the season, based on the pre-season rankings and the number of times a team could appear on national television during the course of a season. Today, if you've got the right combination of of OTA and streaming services, you can see pretty much any major college game you want, but not back then. By my count, the schedule allows for seventeen games, not including the bowls (and there are only eight of those), and only two or three of them are TBA games, ones that ABC can select on short notice. That's not to say that this list is inclusive; many of the games in both the college and pro sections are shown regionally, and all we're seeng here is what Northern California is scheduled to get. 

Still, it's enlightening as to what you can get when games are chosen at the start of the season. The December 6 game between Texas and Arkansas, for instance, turns out to be the game of the season, between the undefeated top-two teams in the country, with President Nixon on hand to declare the winner to be national champion. On the other hand, the November 1 game features a 2-4 team (Northwestern) playing the nation's number one team at the time (Ohio State). Ohio State wins, 35-6. You win some, you lose some.

And even though there are two professional football leagues, you only have about half the number of games you can see today. Each league features doubleheaders on most Sundays, but there's no Sunday night football, no Monday night football, no Thursday night football, no Sunday morning football, no NFL Sunday Ticket. As I say, different times.

Everything culminates as you'd expect; the college national championship is settled on January 1, when Texas defeats Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl. The Super Bowl is played on January 11, about a month earlier than today, when Kansas City upsets Minnesota. You know, I think I preferred those days.

l  l  l

I promised we'd make it through this week and we're almost there, but I couldn't resist this one. On Monday night, KCRA in Sacramento is showing A Star Is Born (8:30 p.m.). Now, I'm sure you're aware there have been several versions of this story—four I can think of, including the most recent one from a couple of years ago. But here's one that I thought I must be unfamiliar with. The story's the same, but the cast includes Judy Mason, Jack Carson, and Charles Bickford. It couldn't have been a made-for-TV version, not with a running time of 150 minutes; and both Carson and Bickford are big names. It was made in 1955, and a quick check confirmed my suspicion: the stars are Judy Garland and James Mason. These things happen, true; they happen to me often enough. Still, that's a sloppy mistake for TV Guide to make.

l  l  l

MST3K alert: This Island Earth (1955) A nuclear scientist receives a visit from Exeter, who is gathering the top scientists on earth. Jeff Morrow, Rex Reason. (Thursday, 11:30 p.m., KXTV, Sacramento) Yes, this is the movie that was riffed in the long-awaited Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie. The MST3K movie was a controversial project on several levels, was not promoted by the studio, and left most of the participants with a bad taste in their mouths. Still, to riff a movie, you have to have a movie, and this is it. And I can't think of a better note on which to bring the week to a close. TV  

Happy Thanksgiving!

We won't be visiting again until after Thanksgiving, so let me be among the first to wish you the greetings of the season. I make no secret of the fact that Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays, second only to Christmas, and the memories I have of it are almost uniformly warm ones. 

For me, Thanksgiving primarily means taking considered time to give thanks. As I believe I have done in the past, I want to thank all of you for your support over the past year: your financial contributions, your comments, the articles you've written, and for taking time every week to stop by and see what's new.

Three other things that Thanksgiving means to me: parades, football, and food. Even though I don't follow the NFL anymore, the history of football on Thanksgiving is undeniable. I've written before about one of the greatest college football games in history, the 1971 Game of the Century between Nebraska and Oklahoma, but I don't know if I've ever admitted that I accidentally fell asleep during it. I'd been indulged by some generous relatives who allowed me to have my dinner on a tray in one of the bedrooms so I could watch the game on TV (millions of people did likewise, I'll add in my defense—there was a huge television audience for the game), and, well, you know what can happen with a full Thanksgiving stomach. Tryptophan or not, I couldn't stay awake, and woke up just before Nebraska scored the winning touchdown in the final minutes. As I was rooting for Oklahoma anyway, it's probably just as well.

Arguably the most famous professional game played on Thanksgiving was in 1962, the annual game between the Green Bay Packers and Detroit Lions at Tiger Stadium in Detroit. I'm not going to claim I remember this game, because I was only two years old, but I've certainly read enough about it. The defending champion Packers came into the game with a record of 10-0, having totally dominated most of their opponents; historians would later rank this one of the greatest teams in NFL history. The Lions, 8-2, had given the Pack their only really close game earlier in the year, losing 9-7 in Green Bay. In the game, the Lions sacked Packers QB Bart Starr 11 times (including once for a safety) and totally dominated Green Bay, racing out to a 26-0 lead en route to a 26-14 drubbing that wasn't nearly as close as the final score indicated. (Apropos of the day, one sportswriter said it looked as if Roger Brown and Alex Karras, the Lions' two defensive stars, were ready to take Starr by the legs and make a wish.) It was said that Lombardi was so furious about that loss that he ended the annual Thanksgiving game against the Lions; the teams had played every Thanksgiving since 1951, but after the 1963 game thy would not meet again on Thanksgiving until 1984.

Two other Thanksgiving games, both involving the Dallas Cowboys, merit mention. In 1974, backup quarterback Clint Longley came off the bench to replace an injured Roger Staubach and threw two touchdown passes, including a 50-yard bomb in the last half-minute, to defeat the Washington Redskins 24-23. Nineteen years later, in 1993, the field covered in snow from a freak storm and the Cowboys up 14-13 against the Miami Dolphins with 15 seconds to play, Miami had their game-winning field goal attempt blocked. All the Pokes had to do was let the roll dead and the game would be over, but inexplicably Dallas defender Leon Lett tried to recover the ball, slipped on the snow, and muffed the ball. The Dolphins recovered, kicked the field goal with one second to play, and won the game, 19-17. 

Stranger and greater things have happened during football's long and glorious history, but these games stand out; they're remembered decades later because they happened on Thanksgiving, with families gathered around the television, sharing fellowship and food while watching a sport that has become synonymous with the day. That's one of the things holidays are about though—creating memories. I have many happy ones of my own from Thanksgiving, and I hope you'll all have some tomorrow that you can look back on fondly in the years to come. 

Happy Thanksgiving! TV