This week in TV Guide: August 24, 1963

We have, I think, a tendency to look at the early 1960s as a kind of remnant of the Golden Age of Television, a carryover from the days of great drama and cultural programming, minus the anthologies. I'm probably as guilty of this as anyone, because I really do have a fondness for this period in television history. But are we guilty of a kind of revisionist history?

This week, we see another edition of an occasional feature in TV Guide, in which noted personalities in entertainment, the arts, and news express their opinions on the state of television. The questions posed to them: has TV programming improved over the last five years; what type of program would you like to see; and what is TV's greatest need. The results are, to say the least, mixed. Dr. Margaret Mead, the anthropologist, feels that the medium has definitely declined over the half-decade: "Intervals of program material are getting shorter and shorter, with an increasingly disintegrative effect on the mind." (I wonder what she'd think of today's short attention spans?) The playwright Paddy Chayefsky agrees: "The people who do the programming apparently lack ingenuity, talent, discretion, taste, efficiency, and simple business sense." (But what do you really think?) Former light heavyweight boxing champion and actor Archie Moore provides a thoughtful answer: "It has improved in some ways (for the sponsor); has gained tremendous audience. Programming has not improved much—too much killing. It is the devil's workshop for an idle mind, especially juvenile." 

Not everyone is quite as down on the tube; Carol Burnett, for instance, says it "definitely" has improved, but then goes on to specify how she thinks TV is better: "Frankness in 'discussion shows,'" and how "newscasts are more interesting (due to the high quality of newscasters." Author Harry Golden sees improvement in "news and public-service features." Jack Lemmon has a similar opinion, saying that television has improved "only in news and sports coverage, isolated 'specials,' and the birth of educational TV." Filmed shows, he says, suffer from "trying to please the biggest percentage of audience possible. In other words, trying to appeal to the lowest common denominator." Dave Brubeck feels that it has improved "especially in area of news documentaries," but at the same time it's "regressed in live dramas." Painter Thomas Hart Benton seconds the opinion on the educational side: "Knowledge-content programs seem to have improved somewhat."   

When asked what shows television needs more of, almost everyone agrees that drama needs to come to the forefront. Benton wants "More plays in which language is an important factor and ideas have a place." Lemmon, Brubeck, and Burnett all cite the need for live plays and anthology shows such as Studio One and Playhouse 90. Chayefsky, not surprisingly, is the most tart on this score: "I should like to see unabashed satires, biting and protesting drama, some feeling that Americans have more vigor than television thinks they have." Mead wants to see television utilize its skill to present "programs that can be done only on TV (not on film), and joins Golden, Burnett, Lemmon, and Secretary of State Dean Rusk in calling for more news, public affairs, and documentary programming, along with shows that allow a frank and open exchange of ideas. Brubeck (not surprisingly) and Moore would like to see more arts and music programs. 

What does TV need? Almost everyone agrees on what it doesn't need: commercials. Thomas Hart Benton says that "The main irritant in all programming is interruptions by advertising. Advertising should be before or after programs. Present practice is intolerable." (Hear, hear!) Actors like Burnett and Lemmon want less sponsor interference in program content, which Burnett believes leads to a situation where "networks are less likely to gamble on 'untried people.' Experiments! How else can it grow?" Dave Brubeck, like Paddy Chayefsky, believes that the public is "far more intelligent than TV programs would indicate." Archie Moore would like more prime-time programming for children, and Dean Rusk believes that television's greatest capacity is its positive contribution to democracy; its greatest need is "to continue and to improve upon its record of public service in this field." 

As is invariably the case, everyone views things through their own lens, reflecting their own preferences and biases. Creative people want more creative programming, public servants want more public affairs shows, actors want more live TV, dramatists want more drama. Nobody seems terribly thrilled with the state of the medium today; even their positive comments are hedged or qualified. And almost everyone believes that the programmers underestimate the native intelligence and desire of the public, even though the ratings rarely bear this out. Paddy Chayefsky, as befits one of the premier writers of the age, perhaps sums things up nicely. When asked what television's greatest need is, his simple reply is, "talent [and] self-respect." I wonder what they would think of television today?

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This Wednesday sees one of the seminal moments in 20th Century American history, the civil rights March on Washington. It's best-known for the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s stirring "I Have a Dream" speech, and for the equally stirring scene of Americans both black and white, rich and poor, famous and anonymous, marching on the Nation's capital. 

The event's official name is the "March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom," sponsored by the six major civil rights groups in the United States, and an estimated quarter of a million participants are expected to gather around the Washington Monument to begin the march, which will conclude with speeches from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Besides King, political, religious, and business leaders are also scheduled to speak, including Roy Wilkins, John Lewis, and labor leader Walter Reuther. There are rumors that President Kennedy himself might address the marchers, but that has not been confirmed at press time. (He doesn't.)

CBS and NBC plan extensive coverage of the march, with live cut-ins when events warrant. NBC's Frank McGee will have two half-hour reports, at 2:00 p.m. and 4:30 p.m. ET, plus a 45-minute wrap-up at 11:15 p.m., or after the late local news. CBS's morning program Calendar will be reporting live from Washington at 10:00 a.m., and Walter Cronkite will be back at 7:30 p.m. for a special one-hour report. Evening news programs—which, you'll remember, are still only 15 minutes long at this point—will obviously provide headline coverage. 

Notable for its absence is ABC, the perennially third-place network. I would be very surprised if they didn't do some kind of reporting during the day, besides their evening news report. But if you're interested, YouTube has some of that NBC News coverage, likely Frank McGee's afternoon report, as it happened.

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Speaking of drama, one of the great ongoing dramas on television right now isn't on a dramatic show at all, but on The Judy Garland Show. Specifically, it concerns the behind-the-scenes drama, as the show, which doesn't even premiere for another month, has already suffered its first casualties, with producer George Schlatter and three of his writers getting the sack. The network's comment: while it was "delighted" with the five episodes Schlatter had in the can, there were "differences of opinion as to the course of future production." Irreconcilable differences, as we might say in the domestic arena. 

As Henry Harding points out, none of this turmoil counts as a surprise; "the I-told-you-so set in New York and Hollywood had been prophesying for months that CBS would have its hands full keeping the unpredictable star happy." However, the available evidence suggests that in this case, Judy was "an innocent bystander" to the conflict between Schaltter and the network. Insiders accuse Schlatter of having "wanted every show to be a blockbuster and, according to one insider, had let things 'get out of hand physically and financially.' CBS thought Schlatter was trying to do the impossible and was concerned about the drain on the network's exchequer." As I recall—I'm not looking it up right now—this coincides with Garland's own feeling about the show, which she envisioned as a weekly concert more than a traditional variety show. 

At any rate, the change—the first of many which will occur during the troubled single-season series—will go into effect immediately, with associate producer and scenic designer Gary Smith taking over the helm. And the Schlatter era is just so much drama over the rainbow.

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If you're my age, or perhaps slightly younger, you'll remember Jules Bergman as one of the most authoritative of television's space-age reporters. Few would question his credentials, his knowledge of space, or his ambition. There's even a file photo at ABC picturing Bergman in a space suit, standing on a simulated lunar surface, with the caption, "Jules Bergman, ABC, the Moon." But there are some who, perhaps ironically, see his space beat as only appropriate for a man whose competitive drive seems as big as the universe itself.

"Julie is the finest TV space reporter around town, certainly the best qualified," one competitor said. "But he's got the most gigantic ego I've ever seen. He's always bragging about how great ABC News is and saying how poorly CBS and NBC handle their jobs." Last year, he got into a fist fight with CBS News producer Bob Wussler after the two had exchanged words*; both men now say that the matter is long forgotten. 

*I'm betting Wussler was not overheard saying, "To the Moon, Bergman!" as he threw his punch.

Bergman says many of the complaints are due to professional competitiveness; "When it comes to getting a story, they are all real tigers, just like me. You can't help stepping on some toes in the helter-skelter of trying to get on the air first with your facts." That's backed up by his former boss, John Daly, for whom Bergman worked while Daly was head of ABC News. "He had a tremendous amount of drive and ambition," Daly says. Recalling how, after Bergman had won a fellowship at the Columbia School of Journalism, he had not only convinced Daly to give me a leave of absense, but to pay the difference between his ABC salary and his fellowship income, Daly says, "He had the get-up-and-go to get the fellowship. Once he got it, he came to me and painted vividly the advantages ABC News would enjoy in having a science expert on staff."

More recently, Bergman worked for James Hagerty, who succeeded Daly as ABC News boss after serving as Eisenhower's press secretary. It was Hagerty who put Bergman on the science beat; "I was surprised, too, to discover that Jules knew as much about our Government's space program as I did—and I learned about it, after all, at the White House. I wanted a man whose sole news beat was to be the whole wide range of science, so I appointed Jules our science editor." Bergman remains the only science editor on network television.

His expertise has been on display many times, including Scott Carpenter's Aurora 7 flight last year, when it appeared that the capsule—and Carpenter—might be lost. "I told our viewers that it was impossible that radar had lost him even though he was out of voice contact. It turned out I was right." That confidence, again. Having been fascinated with manned spaceflight for my entire life, and having watched so many of those Gemini and Apollo missions on TV, I can say that, along with Frank McGee and Bill Ryan on NBC, and Walter Cronkite and Wally Schirra on CBS, I'll always think of Jules Bergman whenever I look back on that remarkable time in history.

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Saturday's episode of Gunsmoke (10:00 p.m., CBS) is a truly notable one: in "Us Hagens," Matt, searching for Black Jack Haggen, accused of murdering nephew Fergus Haggen, is assisted by Fergus's twin brother, scruffy hillbilly Festus. That's right, the first appearance of Festus, played by Ken Curtis, who would go on to become one of the most-loved members of the Gunsmoke clan. His appearances on the show will be occasional until 1964, when he takes Dennis Weaver's place as Dillon's deputy. Black Jack, incidentally, is played by Denver Pyle, who was once considered for the role of Matt Dillon when the television version of Gunsmoke was being planned.

Sunday's DuPont Show of the Week (10:00 p.m., NBC) is an intriguing one: "The Interrogator," which takes place on the British colony of Cyprus, where a police inspector, played by John Mills, stands accused of murdering a terrorist prisoner under his custody. With only one day to prove his innocence before being exiled to England, the inspector decides to interrogate other members of the terrorist group. Robert Loggia, Ina Balin, Murray Matheson, and Gene Wilder co-star 

Phil Silvers, whom we all know and love as Sgt. Ernie Bilko, is reunited with Bilko creator Nat Hiken for Monday night's Comedy Hour Special, "The Ballad of Louis the Louse" (9:00 p.m., CBS). It's a role tailor-made for Silvers, who plays the late Louis Cramfield, loan shark and louse, whose death sparks no tears except for a newspaperman who eulogizes Louis as "the Saint of Broadway." Silvers is joined in the cast by Betsy Palmer, Eddie Albert, and Pert Kelton. Hiken, in addition to directing, wrote the book and lyrics for the musical; the music was composed by Gordon Jenkins. 

Apropos of Jules Bergman, a special on Tuesday night, apparently syndicated but appearing on two of the four ABC affiliates in this Eastern New England edition, is Focus on America (10:30 p.m.), featuring Dr. Wernher von Braun, head of the U.S. space program. Von Braun gives some quite interesting opinions on the "space race," including one that must have been a bit controversial for the time, that "the objective of space exploration should be the discovery of knowledge," and that the country "should forget about 'beating the Russians.'" Now, that happens to be a viewpoint I agree with, but I wonder how others felt about it, considering that much of the motivation for the financial layout required to put a man on the moon came from the race to beat the Russkies. Too bad we can't ask Jules Bergman about it.

Wednesday's programming highlight is "Like a Diamond in the Sky," a haunting episode of the excellent psychiatric drama The Eleventh Hour (10:00 p.m., NBC), in which Julie London plays glamorous singer Joan Ashmond, who's committed suicide; Dr. Graham (Jack Ging) is assigned to perform a "psychological post-mortem." The episode first aired on February 13, 1963; no wonder the description in the listings says it will likely remind viewers of Marilyn Monroe's death, which had occurred only six months prior to that broadcast.

On Thursday, NBC's Project 20 takes a look at "The Story of Will Rogers" (10:00 p.m.), an hour-long profile of the beloved humorist narrated by a man who knew a thing or two about humor himself, Bob Hope. Project 20, which you sometimes see styled Project XX, was one of those series that well-served the desire that many of our experts up in the lede expressed for more informative and educational shows that were also entertaining. 

Friday begins with the final episode of CBS's morning public affairs program Calendar, hosted by Harry Reasoner and Mary Fickett. (10:00 a.m.) You don't read much about Calendar in the history books when it comes to morning programming, which is too bad, because although I've never seen it, it's always sounded like an interesting show. What's replacing it? The CBS Morning News with Mike Wallace, which will eventually move to an earlier timeslot, and has morphed into CBS Mornings, which in my opinion is a far lesser program. Skipping from morning to late-night, a couple of local movies attract the attention: Paths of Glory (11;15 p.m., WBZ), one of the greatest anti-war movies of all time, starring Kirk Douglas, Ralph Meeker, and Adolphe Menjou; and a movie that we usually see more often around the Yule, The Man Who Came to Dinner (11:20 p.m., WMTW), one of the greatest anti-sentimentality Christmas movies of all time, starring Monty Woolley, Bette Davis, Ann Sheridan, and a scene-stealing appearance by Jimmy Durante.

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No MST3K movie this week, but something almost as good: an article on Judee Morton. Fans of MST3K remember her from the immortal The Slime People, but this week she's the woman who looked too young. Although she's 24, with a college degree from UCLA, she's always being cast as teens (including in the aforementioned Slime People, and for good reason: she looks like a teen. During her first television appearance, on My Three Sons, she had to convince the production manager that she didn't need a work permit, something that's required of anyone under 18, and that in fact her "work permit" was a B.A. degree from UCLA.

While she never becomes a major star, Judee compiles an impressive list of credits, mostly in guest appearances on television; there's a time in the late 1960s and early '70s when she seems to appear on almost every show on TV. Her last appearance is on House in 2009, after which she worked as a practicing psychotherapist. Her interview on the bonus track of MST3K's Slime People DVD is charming, and she's still around, at 85. And probably wishing, as we all do, that she still looked like a teenager. TV

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Around the dial

This week I'm starting with an extended quote from my friend John at Cult TV Blog, who makes a point that I think is worth repeatng. 

There is something spectacularly contrary about the cult TV world. The TV stations wipe all their shows (for Reasons) thinking that we won't ever want to watch them again and we spend decades on the internet locating reel to reel off-air recordings and wipe-shaming the BBC into remaking the shows that they made in the first place. We damn well WILL see those shows again even if it's on an odd reel that somehow made its way to Cape Town—it's almost as if the cult TV world *prefers* TV which has been wiped.

He goes on to point out how missing episodes of Doctor Who have been reconstructed, and missing episodes of The Avengers are recreated through the Big Finish audios. I'm sure that if more of this would happen (especially in the United States), at some point, television networks would find they've spent more money on recreations than it would have cost to preserve the shows in the first place. Very interesting! Anyway, the prompt for this meditation is Hancock's Half Hour, a series from 1959 that's benefitted from the desire to put things back the way they were.

At Comfort TV, David has a very nice mention of yours truly and the blog as a preface to an essay that really cuts to the heart of what comfort TV is and why it's so important these days. It is a nice compliment to his most recent book, When Television Brought Us Together (and if you don't have this book, why?), and it reminds us that no matter what else happens, our memories are one thing they can't take away from us. 

The Broadcasting Archives links to A Word from Our Sponsor for a terrific series of graphics on the general topic, "What is the future of television?" I've linked to the first one, but be sure to click on the home page and look at them all—you'll thank me for it. 

And from Garroway at Large, the news we've been waiting for these last few years: Jodie's book Peace: The Wide, Wide World of Dave Garroway, Television's Original Master Communicator is now a reality! We talked about this way back in 2017, and I couldn't be prouder of her!

At Silver Scenes, a link to an article at ReMind magazine on iconic TV houses that are now being demolished. Which leads me back to David's piece earlier—pretty soon, it seems as if all we will be left with are memories. That's why all of us feel it's important to keep the institutional memory of classic TV alive. If we won't do it, who will?

If you read Wednesday's piece, you'll know that I've been adding a fair number of British programs to our viewing schedule, but Cult TV Lounge looks at one that I haven't yet seen: The Professionals, the late 1970s show that provides a very violent (and prophetic?) look at a counter-terrorist squad that pretty much makes its own law.

Martin Grams has a new book out: Maverick: A History of the Television Series, written with Linda Alexander and Steven Thompson. I'll be getting back to that series before too long, but if the book is as spectacular as the picture on the cover, then it ought to be a winner.

At Shadow & Substance, Paul looks at a less-than-memorable episode of The Twilight Zone: the third season comedy "Cavender is Coming," which starred Carol Burnett and was originally intended as a pilot. Serling wasn't happy with it, and penned an elegant apology to Carol, along with a promise that if he got a second chance (which he didn't), he'd make it up to her.

On the occasion of Leslie Uggams's 80th birthday, Travalanche flashes back to her 1969 variety series The Leslie Uggams Show, a quick fill-in for the cancelled Smothers Brothers, and takes a look at her career and influence.

It's time for another look at The Avengers at The View from the Junkyard, and this week Roger and Mike compare notes on "Two's a Crowd," a fourth-season episode that, as Roger says, is something unusual at this point in the series: "a straight-up spy story."

Speaking of The Avengers, here's a nifty site that you should definitely check out: Alan Hayes's The Avengers Declassified. It's a very good looking site, and the information in it is even better! If you're a fan of Steed and Mrs. Peel (or Mrs. Gale, or Tara King, or David Keel, or Venus Smith), you're going to want to spend a lot of time here. And if you're not a fan, who should be!

Finally, I know that some of you don't read the Saturday material until Monday, so for those of you in the United States, have a safe and restful Memorial Day, and remember what the day is all about. TV