This week in TV Guide: January 17, 1959

We start off the week with Bob Johnson's very amusing article on James Garner and Jack Kelley, the "Maverick Brothers" of ABC's Sunday night series.

The two stars maintain separate lives; Johnson suggests that "the boys don't like to discuss each other," although I'm not sure that there's any particular animosity between them. Certainly Garner, who was the first Maverick, is also first among equals; his episodes have higher ratings, and his appearances outnumber Kelly's through the course of the season (of the 20 episodes so far this season, nine have starred Garner, six for Kelly, and five have featured both of them.

It's not hard to dissect Garner's popularity: his easy-going manner, the implicit humor he brings to the role, are all products of his acting talent—or, as he puts it, his lack of same. He's no actor, he insists, but a personality; in fact, he can't act. "I'll learn if I have to, but I haven't had to yet. I'm playing me. Bret Maverick is lazy. I'm lazy. I like to get the bit over with at the studio and get out of there. I like being lazy." He adds that he's never taken a script home to study, "and I don't plan to."

You might be familiar with the story behind Maverick, of how the first few episodes were played straight—stock Westerns—until bored scriptwriter Marion Hargroves inserted a stage direction that changed the series forever. "Maverick," he wrote, "looks at him with his beady little eyes." Garner loved it. "You can't say that about a star," the research department told Hargroves. Nonsense, replied Hargroves; he'd met Garner, and he does have beady little eyes.

Soon the series had made the transformation to a comedy, and the Maverick boys "have been subjected to more house gags, in stage directions by Hargrove and other writers, than any two other actors living." For example, when Kelly leaves the saloon, he doesn't just leave. "He sees his horse. He smiles. His horse sees him and just nods." Garner is described  as "ahr hero" or "an itinerant clergyman," and when he considers a problem, "we can see his flabby little mind make a small connection." There's even a situation where "His face shows resentment, frustration, anxiety and anything else the director thinks he can get out of him." These directions don't explicitly show up on screen, of course, but it influences the way Garner and Kelly play their roles, and more important it indicates the spirit that has infected the entire show.

Interestingly, Kelly thinks the show can go three more seasons after this one, but "Garner has other ideas." As to what those ideas are, Johnson doesn't really say; instead, he captures Garner talking about the recent satire the show did on Gunsmoke. ("It's a classic.") Garner's other ideas, however, don't include three more seasons of Maverick; he quits the series in 1960 in a dispute with Warner Brothers, a case he wins in court. He's replaced by, at various times, Roger Moore and Robert Colbert; ultimately, in the fifth and final season (as Jack Kelly predicted), reruns of old Garner stories alternate with Kelly's new shows. Maverick ends its run with a secure place in TV history, and a warm spot in viewers' hearts.

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One of Ed Sullivan's first great on-air challenges came from Steve Allen, who left Tonight to take over an NBC variety show which, at the beginning, aired opposite Ed. It didn't run as long as Ed's, of course, but then Allen said his goal was never to conquer Ed, but to coexist with him, which he did for three seasons. Let's see who gets the best of the contest this week.

Sullivan: Ed's guests are actress Celeste Holm; French singer Edith Piaf; musical-comedy star Pat Suzuki; operatic soprano Antonietta Stella; musical-comedy writers Betty Comden and Adolph Green, currently appearing on Broadway in a two-man show; comedian Alan Drake; and juggler Francis Brunn.

Allen: Steve's guests are actress Esther Williams and singers Vic Damone and Jennie Smith. A large part of tonight's show takes place in and around a swimming pool located in the studio. Steve dons a bathing suit to join Miss Williams in an aquatic comedy routine.

As far as stars go, it's hard to top Celeste Holm, Edith Piaf, and Comden and Green. As far as entertainment, Steve Allen in a bathing suit with Esther Williams, cavorting in a studio swimming pool—that says it all. It depends on what turns you on, which is why this week is a push.

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That man in the baggy blue uniform is Bob Keeshan, aka Captain Kangaroo, whose show stands out "amid the cacophonous carnival of TV attractions for children" featuring broad slapstick comedy and raucous peanut galleries. Instead, the good Captain (his name comes from the enormous pockets on his jacket, vaguely resembling a kangaroo's pouch) treats them to "beautiful music, dancing, unusual games and toys, live animals, amusing cartoons, simple studies of nature, and tips on how to make things." 

Keeshan's entire television career has been about children. For five years he played the voiceless Clarabell the Clown on Howdy Doody, and followed that up with two local kids' shows in New York. Talking about the philosophy behind his series, Keeshan stresses the importance of his "gentle lessions" he presents to his young viewers, which mirror those he's imparted on his own children. "One important lesson I try to teach my own kids is that gentleness in a person doesn't necessarily indicate weakness; and that good manners and thoughtfullness are necessary to a happy life."

He's an ambassador for UNICEF, and creator of the "Trick or Treat" campaign that encouraged kids to collect coins, rather than Halloween candy, for the UN organization. (He's pictured above talking about UNICEF with three of Sir Winston Churchill's grandchildren.) Its success had led him to travel to other countries, including a stop at the Brussels World's Fair, encouraging similar ideas. He has a long-term goal of creating a news show for children, explaining the issues of the day in a way that they can understand. (A forerunner of In the News, perhaps?) Says Keeshan, "Children are an important part of the world—today's world. We owe them an honest explanation of what's happening to it."

Reading this brief article, one sees many of the same qualities and concerns that Fred Rogers would teach to later generations of children, and it's unfortunate, I think, that Captain Kangaroo often gets overlooked amidst the deserved praise that we've lavished on Mister Rogers over the years. Is it because of the Captain's episodes (the show ran on CBS from 1955 to 1984) were, as was too often the case back then, wiped? Or did Mister Rogers' Neighborhood come along at a time when children's programming was even worse, relatively speaking, than it was when Captain Kangaroo started? I'm not sure which, but the two men were great admirers of each other, and the shows themselves were never in competition. I've written about Captain Kangaroo before, noting the irony that the "Love Generation" that viewed his program often displayed attributes directly at odds with those he strove to teach them. Regardless, it's good to remember the genuine concern Bob Keeshan had for his young viewers, and the lessons he worked so hard and so long to teach them.

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Lest we get too caught up in the panacea of the 1950s, Wednesday reminds us of the decade's downside, with Edward R. Murrow's The Lost Class of '59 (7:00 p.m, CBS), a report on six high schools in Norfolk, Virginia, that the state ordered closed rather than submit to a federal court order to integrate. Murrow interviews local and state officials, segregation leaders and their opponents, and four local students to get their views on the situation, which affects some 43,000 students, including the "Norfolk 17," 17 black students whose attempt to enroll sparked the crisis. 

The Lost Class of '59 turns a national spotlight on Norfolk, bringing "unwanted" attention to the school crisis. Shortly after the broadcast, a group of 100 business leaders take out ◀ a full-page ad in the Virginian Pilot, urging that the schools reopen; they concede that while they prefer segregated schools, it's time to acknowledge and accept the "new reality." A week later, on February 2, the schools are reopened; by that time, however, many of the affected students had scattered to other schools in other cities and states, while others stayed home, married, or joined the military. On the 50th anniversary, honorary diplomas were awarded to 1,300 seniors who lost the experience of their senior year in high school. 

Murrow and producer Fred Friendly receive a Peabody Award for The Lost Class of '59, "for their concise reporting and compassionate insight into the plight of the group most seriously affected by the struggle for integration.  

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On a very quiet Saturday, I'll give the nod to Perry Como's show (7:00 p.m., NBC). Perry's guest stars are Nat King Cole, the McGuire Sisters, and Dick Van Dyke. At 11:30 p.m., KDAL in Duluth has the movie Michael Shayne, Private Detective, starring Lloyd Nolan. It's actually a pretty good movie if you forget both the novels by Brett Halliday and the series starring Richard Denning. Opposite that, on WTCN, is I Led Three Lives, and this week "Herb Philbrick becomes embroiled in a Communist plot to infiltrate a labor union." What a shock.

Returning to the news beat for a moment, Meet the Press expands to an hour on Sunday afternoon (5:00 p.m., NBC) for an appearance by Soviet First Deputy Premier Anastas Mikoyan, next to Khruschev the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. Mikoyan was a survivor if nothing else, serving Lenin, Stalin, Khrushchev and Brezhnev, and was one of the rare top Soviet officals to retire rather than meet a violent death at the hands of a rival; although he was forced out by Brezhnev, he was "allowed" to die of natural causes in 1978. In the great panoply of Communist figures, Mikoyan was thought to be friendlier to the United States than most, one reason why was sent to represent the USSR at the funeral of John F. Kennedy. He's being interviewed here on the occasion of his second trip to America.

The second half of Meet the Press runs into competition from ABC, with the final round of the Binbg Crosby Pro-Am golf tournament from Pebble Beach, California. (4:30 p.m.) Then, as now, the stars are part of the attraction, and this year's batch is expected to include Bob Hope, Phil Harris, Desi Arnaz, James Garner, Bob Crosby, Fred MacMurray, Randolph Scott and Dennis O'Keefe. And then there's Der Bingle, of course. It's as fine a lineup of stars as you'll see anywhere on TV this week.

There are a few stars left over for Sunday evening, though, as Nina Foch stars in a special presentation of Agatha Christie's famed mystery Ten Little Indians. (6:00 p.m., NBC) In today's politically correct times, it would probably be known by its alternate title, "And Then There Were None." Fine with me; the original title of the story is even more problematic. At 8:00 p.m., it's G.E. Theater on CBS, starring Tony Curtis, in the David and Goliath story, "The Stone." (8:00 p.m., CBS)

An ad in this week's issue proclaims CBS's hour-long block of The Danny Thomas Show and The Ann Sothern Show on Monday as the "funniest hour on TV." I wouldn't know about that, not being a particular fan of either one—which leads me to ask whether, aside from us classic TV aficionados, anyone really remembers them anymore. I'm not being sarcastic in asking this question, just wondering what kind of a cultural footprint either of them left. Danny Thomas, of course, is probably best known for St. Jude Children's Hospital, but how many know that at one time he was considered "one of television's greatest comedians"? Just a thought. At any rate, Danny's guest tonight is Tennessee Ernie Ford (8:00 p.m.), which counts for something. Meanwhile, Ann Sothern (8:30 p.m.) resurrects the old question facing women of the time: do you choose a career, or marriage? To find out, though, you'll have to pass up Peter Gunn on NBC and The Voice of Firestone on ABC. 

If one night of Steve Allen (Sunday) is good, two nights must be better, right? Tuesday is the second night, and The Bob Cummings Show* is the occasion (8:30 p.m., NBC). Tonight, Bob tries to get rid of his girlfriend Betty (Joyce Jameson) by telling her that he can get her a job on Steve's show. Have you seen that one, Hal Horn? Even more significant than a second night of Steve, though, is the first night of Alcoa Presents (9:00 p.m., ABC), which you'll probably recognize by its subtitle: One Step Beyond. The much-loved supernatural cult series, presented by John Newland, will stick around for three seasons, joining a panoply that includes The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits.

*Fun fact: According to the always-reliable Wikipedia, The Bob Cummings Show was the first series to debut as a midseason replacement. There's no citation to prove it, though. 

Lawrence Welk is one of the few stars to enjoy the distinction of two weekly prime time programs running each week; besides his better-known Saturday night extravaganza, he also has an hour each Wednesday. Initially known as Lawrence Welk Presents Top Tunes and New Talent, it now carries the title The Lawrence Welk Plymouth Show (6:30 p.m., ABC), and it has a distinction of its own: according to the always-reliable Wikipedia, the Welk Plymouth Show is the first television program to be aired in stereo; this was accomplished, "by ABC simulcast the show on its radio network, with the TV side airing one audio channel and the radio side airing the other; viewers would tune in both the TV and the radio to achieve the stereophonic effect." As corroboration, the program description notes that viewers watching the show on WTCN, the ABC affiliate in Minneapolis-St. Paul, "can hear this program in stereophonic sound by also tuning to radio station WTCN, operating on 1280 kilocycles." 

On Thursday, Cesar Romero guest stars as "The Gay Caballero" (not to be confused with Guy Caballero) on Zorro (7:00 p.m., ABC). I'll bet he steals the show. At 8:30 p.m., CBS's Playhouse 90 presents "The Velvet Alley," a Rod Serling play about a struggling writer who may have finally gotten his big break when he sells a script to—Playhouse 90. Art Carney makes a rare dramatic appearance as the playwright who has to ask himself whether success is worth selling your soul.

Speaking of show-stealing and meta stories, Phil Silvers is well-positioned to steal Friday in an expanded one-hour edition of his series (8:00 p.m., CBS) which is wonderfully, bizarrely meta. In it, Sydney Chaplin (actor and son of Charlie), playing himself, plans to use Bilko's life story for an Army musical. Bilko travels to Hollywood to meet the actor chosen to play him: Phil Silvers! Diana Dors, also playing herself, guests; later this year, she'll marry an actor who'll do pretty well in an Army sitcom himself—Richard Dawson.

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A word about the changing face of television production. While the movie studios have tried, once they realized that television wasn't going anywhere, to enter the TV production industry, the three studios that today dominate television are all independent from the movie moguls: Desilu, Screen Gems, and Revue. Together, as Dan Jenkins reports, the three of them will do an estimated gross of $100 million in this fiscal year, all of it in television. And their output far dwarfs that of their big-screen counterparts.

As an example, the three networks use an average of 36 hours of film in prime time each week, the equivalent of 24 feature films. Over the course of a 39-week television season, that amounts to an equivalent of 936 movies, more than four-and-a-half times the number of movies turned out by studios in 1958. And keep in mind that these figures don't include syndicated series or shows broadcast outside prime time.

Of the three, Screen Gems is the oldest, having started out in 1949 as a subsidiary of Columbia. Desilu represents "the ever-lengthening shadow of one man, Desi Arnaz," who has gone from being virtually shoved down CBS's throat by his wife, Lucille Ball, to become television's most successful producer, with three former motion picture studios and more soundstanges than are owned by MGM.* Revue, the third of the big three, grosses an estimated $40,000 per episode, multiplied by 39 episodes, for each of the series in its stable. Together, the three turn out 32 network and syndicated shows, representing 17 hours of television per week, "more than twice the footage of all the major and indpenedent movie companies combined." 

*And this is how, as the cover notes, Lucy and Desi became "America's Favorite Tycoons." 

There are, however, challenges on the horizon. Warner Bros. currently puts out four hours of television per week on ABC alone, including the aforementioned Maverick. Walt Disney has three film shows of his own on the same network, while other studios, including Ziv, "sausage-grinder of the syndication field," and George Burns' McCadden Productions.

For the most part, Jenkins notes, members from the motion picture industry have had little to do with the rise of television productions. Even when the studios have jumped into TV, they've chosen TV-trained executives, such as Harry Ackerman at Screen Jems, and Martin Manulis at Fox. Even in the case of rising contender Four Star Films, which was founded by movie actors Dick Powell, David Nive, and Charles Boyer, the organization was put together by radio-TV agent-producer Don Sharpe. 

Times will change, though. Remember not that long ago, we read about Lucille Ball selling out Desilu to Paramount. WB will become more and more prominent in television, and Disney will come to control just about everything. But in the meantime there is no question that the big three are part of Hollywood's new elite, in an industry that didn't even exist ten years ago.

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And now a moment to mention this week's starlet, 23-year-old Nancy Malone: 23, "red-haired and blue-eyed and freckled and pert." She's been acting since she was 11, and left school at 17 to appear in the Broadway play Time Out for Ginger. Since then she's appeared on many of the New York-based dramatic anthologies (Studio One, Armstrong Circle Theatre, Robert Montgomery Presents, the Hallmark Hall of Fame) and is currently a regular on the CBS sudser The Brighter Day, along with her dog, Miss Madrigal (five years old, half beagle, half dachshund, likes to chase squirels). 

Next year she'll take on her best-known role, that of Libby Kingston, aspiring actress and good-hearted girlfriend of Paul Burke's Detective Adam Flint, in Naked City. She'll remain on Naked City for three seasons; later, she'll be one of the stars on ABC's The Long Hot Summer. After that, she'll work her way up the entertainment ladder, moving into producing and directing (where she wins an Emmy and is nominated for two others), and does a stint as vice-president of television at 20th Century Fox. Always a pleasure to watch, she's an example of a starlet who makes good.

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Finally, some notes from the TV Teletype:

Bill Lundigan's new series Moon Flight, which is billed as a "new semidocumentary series abou tman's exploration of space," has gone into production. It will emerge with a new name, Men Into Space, when it airs this September on CBS. You can catch reruns of it on Comet if you're so inclined. And speaking of new series, that guest appearance by Tennessee Ernie Ford on Monday's Danny Thomas Show made an impact on the producer, who liked the character Ernie played on the show and thought it was a great idea for a new sitcom—not for Ernie, but for Andy Griffith. They're working on it now, and when it premieres as The Andy Griffith Show in October 1960, it will find a place in television history.

Dwayne Hickman is leaving the aforementioned The Bob Cummings Show at the end of this season for his own series, The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, good for four seasons on CBS starting this fall. The detective series Peter Gunn, which debuted last September on NBC, has been picked up for the rest of the year—a full 39 episodes. And Dave Garroway has postponed his trip to Paris from April until early May; there's a funny ancedote about that trip in my interview with Jodie Peeler.

Finally, a note from the local section that Miss America 1959, Carol Ann Mobley, "is in town to crown the North St. Paul Jaycee Queen," and will be appearing with Arle Haeberle on her WCCO afternoon show Around the Town. I don't see any "Carol Ann Mobley" as Miss America, in 1959 or any other year. There is, however, a Mary Ann Mobley, who happens to be Miss America 1959. I hope the Jaycees that were expecting Carol weren't too disappointed. TV  

Around the dial

At bare-bones e-zine, we start the week with Jack's Hitchcock Project, looking at Irving Elman's seventh-season teleplay "The Door Without a Key," starring the great Claude Rains, John Larch, and Billy Mumy, familiar faces all.

The Broadcast Archives has a small but important explanation for why it's important to preserve broadcast archives. I wish--no, I ache for all the material that's been lost over the years because it wasn't preserved.

Did you ever wonder how TV bloggers get ideas on what to write about? One way is by having a constant supply of programs to watch, and at Cult TV Blog, John shares some of the contents of his laptop. We'll be reading about them later!

At The Horn Section, Hal is back to continue his series dispelling myths about the ratings for the series F Troop, which were actually much better than those for more heralded show such as That Girl.

The Avengers returns at The View from the Junkyard, with "The Forget-Me-Knot," and a restatement of what the series is all about: "lots of fights, some baddies with a dastardly plan, eccentric secret agents, a gimmicky element to the story, and plenty of humour." Find out how all these come together.

Was The Love Boat the most influential program ever to air on television? This article from CNN, discussing the impact the show made on the cruise industry, makes a compelling case that it was; what do you think?

Did you ever wonder how James Garner wound up as Jim Rockford? My old friend Billy Ingram has the story at TVParty, the site that gave me my start in the classic TV business!

We're up to the 1962 episodes of the sitcom Dennis the Menace, and Television's New Frontier: The 1960s takes an in-depth look at the year's episodes and the direction the show is headed, including the transition from Joseph Kearns to Gale Gordon.

TV Obseurities presents a new audio exhibit looking at the closing credits to the 1975-76 season of All in the Family,. It's worth it for the voiceover promotions you hear over the credits, a great look back at what the network had to offer almost 50 years ago.

At Cult TV Lounge, it's a look at one of the best episodes of The Twilight Zone, the chilling, surprising "The After Hours," starring Anne Francis as a department store customer who isn't what she seems, in a store that isn't what it seems.

Finally, the podcast Flipside: The True Story of Bob Crane presents a special Bob hosted to mark the 8th anniversary of his KNX-CBS radio program. It's a reminder of what a great radio host he was, and how entertaining his show was. TV  

This week in TV Guide: November 26, 1960

After years—nay, decades—of asking who's to blame for the lousy programs we see on television, we at last have a final and definitive answer: we are.

Well, that's comforting.

The man providing the answer is Hubbell Robinson, formerly EVP of programming for CBS, now head of Hubbell Robinson Productions, and the reasoning behind his answer is actually very sound: we get mediocre programs because we don't demand more from the networks; we "passively accept it that way." Furthermore, when networks do offer informational and public-affairs programming, we don't watch them.

This is, of course, an argument with a double-edged potential to it. Yes, Robinson seems to be saying, if you will watch it, they will make it; ratings, after all, rule the roost. And, as H.L. Mencken may or may not have said, nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people. However, in his pious appeal to the Latin phrase Sic transit gloria rei publicae ("Thus passes away the glory of the republic"), he comes dangerously close to the elitist attitude that the public doesn't know what's good for them, that if only they'd watch what we prepare for them, everything would be all right. Quoting Pericles, Robinson ponderously pronounces that "We consider the man not informed about public affairs not only harmless but useless," and he comments on how it's a good thing that the creators of TV's public-affairs, informational, and news programs are "a hardy lot." "In spite of the relatively small percentage of rabbit ears pointed their way," he sys, "they continue to enlarge and lift their horizons." 

Give Robinson credit, though; he allows that, for its part, television must "mature and upgrade the level of its entertainment, show some of the skills in the arts it has displayed in the crafts, manage to bring its creative accomplishment more in line with its electronic genius." Just because shows like 77 Sunset Strip, Gunsmoke, The Untouchables, and "that obeisance to the cult of something for nothing, The Price is Right" are popular, executives should not assume that these are the only kinds of shows that can be popular. And for the record, I think many, if not most, people would consider Gunsmoke and The Untouchables to be above-average drama series at least, while Sunset Strip is far better than a "mediocre" program. (The Price is Right? Well, as someone pointed out in an issue from a few weeks ago, people have to have knowledge of current market pricing and the ability to make rapid calculations in order to succeed at it.)

Setting aside all that, what does Robinson think should be done to improve the quality of shows seen on our tubes? For one thing, television's creative talents must accept "the need to be popular" in order to succeed. That may seem an odd thing, but remember how fashionable it's been to criticize artists for producing "popular" works? They wear their lack of commercial success as a badge of honor, and that has to stop. Other than that, though, there should be no constraint on their output; they should have "complete freedom." Combine the discipline of working in a popular medium with the latitude to take on "message" projects will not only improve programming, it will help to attract and retain talented writers, producers, and directors. Sponsors and networks also have to make a commitment to support such shows—the financial sinew, he says, "to start and keep going."

And here's where it all returns to us. These changes can't be achieved by industry critics, or by the "antics" of someone like David Susskind, someone who wants to make a lot of noise with not much to show for it. (Methinks there's more to the story there.) It can only happen by "a network or networks partnered with independent production ventures and the major talents themselves." And it must be supported by the 100,000,000 Americans who run television by nature of their repeated viewership. "It is not a question of whether television can afford to take this step," Robinson concludes. "The question is: can it afford not to?" Based on the 60+ years of programming that have followed, I think Robinson would conclude that television, apparently, can quite easily afford not to.

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College football's regular season comes to an end this Saturday in Philadelphia, where more than 100,000 fans will be in attendance for the game of the year, the 61st meeting between Army and Navy. (1:00 p.m. ET, ABC) And lest you think this is all hype, consider the words of sportswriter Melvin Durslag: "Irrespective of the records of Army and Navy during the course of the season, the 105,000 seats in Philadelphia Stadium are hardly enough to meet the demand. People flock to this even from all over the Nation, even though television brings it to the warmth and comfort of one's parlor." The first use of television instant replay was during an Army-Navy game, and ABC's going all-out for this year's broadcast, with Curt Gowdy and Paul Christman in the booth, and Bob Neal roaming the sidelines (with a portable camera called the "sneaky-peepy." Seven cameras will be covering the action (a "whopping" number), and the pre-game parade of Cadets and Midshipmen will be shown on television for the first time. So, yes, this game is a big deal.

That might seem hard to believe now. Neither Army nor Navy have been considered major forces in college football since, well, the 1960s. Ah, but Navy produced two Heisman Trophy winners in that decade, Joe Bellino and Roger Staubach, and the 1963 team finished #2 in the country, behind only Texas; Navy enters this year's game ranked #7, and winds up with a #4 ranking. The golden years for Army's Black Knights have, alas, been fewer and farther between. These days, successful seasons mean battles not for the national championship, but for spots in some of the second-tier bowl games, and while they're capable of producing nine- or ten-win seasons, this year's game will be typical of recent contests, with the two teams having combined for a total of eight victories (at this time of writing). 

But while the stakes not what they once were—it's hard to imagine, for instance, drawing 100,000 fans to this year's game—Army-Navy is still a thing. Although the Air Force has enjoyed greater success over the past few decades, their games against Army and Navy never attract the same level of excitement. The game is privileged with an exclusive spot on the schedule, after all the regular season and conference championship games are played (one could argue that this is the only way the game keeps its place on the national stage), and among the spectators is often the president of the United States. It even has a corporate sponsor, the ultimate sign of prestige as it goes in sports. 

Oh, and by the way, if you're curious to see how that 1960 Army-Navy game went, you can see it right here.

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This week's starlet is the lissome Diane Cannon, and it really is true that while she was sitting in a restaurant having lunch one day, a man came up to her and said, "Honey, are you in pictures? Because if you're not, you should be." That man turned out to be an agent, and before you knew it, Diane had gone from being a showroom assistant for a sweater manufacturer to having appeared in three episodes of NBC's Matinee Theater. 

Since then, she's done a publicity tour for MGM's Les Girls (even though neither she nor the other two women doing the tour actually appeared in the movie), and from then on, it's been steady work: the feature film The Sleepwalkers, Playhouse 90 (three times), 77 Sunset Strip, and Bat Masterson among other TV series; and work on the soap operas For Better or Worse and Full Circle. The latter title earned her a one-year contract at CBS. Working a live, five-day-a-week soap is easy for her; "I'm a fast study. Eight years of concert piano study taught me how to memorize things in a hurry."

Diane's real name is Camille Diane Friesen, but she has one more name change in store, altering the spelling of her first name to "Dyan." So that's how Dyan Cannon got her start—and she hasn't stopped since. Since this article in TV Guide, she's earned three Academy Award nominations (including one for Best Live Action Short), married Cary Grant (with whom she had daughter Jennifer), became a favorite guest of Johnny Carson's on The Tonight Show (where she frequently showed off her infectious laugh), and was a regular at courtside seats for the Los Angeles Lakers. She has had, by any definition, a terrific career, and she's still active at age 86. Could anyone have predicted this by reading this article in 1960? If so, they're a shrewd judge of talent.

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Dwight Whitney reports that, unless there's a last-minute settlement, Maverick star James Garner's legal battle with Warner Bros. will be going to court this week, and it promises to be one of the biggest stories Hollywood has seen in years. 

For the uninitiated, the dispute goes back to last March, when the suspended star was laid off from Warner Bros. due to, of all things, a writers' strike. The studio invoked its force majeure provision of the contract, under which it claimed the strike was akin to an Act of God—in other words, beyond the control of the studio. Since Maverick couldn't be made without scripts, the show went on hiatus, and under force majeure, the studio wouldn't have to continue paying Garner's salary. Garner filed suit against Warner, claiming that the action was a breach of Garner's contract with the studio, making him a free agent. "I feel like a side of beef," Garner complained to TV Guide. "Every once and a while, the studio cuts off a hunk." Garner has made no secret of wanting out of his contract. "Contracts are completely one-sided affairs," he says. "If you you click, the studio owns you." He's been particularly frustrated about not being free to do movies, claiming that it would benefit the studio as much as it would him. "If we made two movies a year we'd do 15 times as well."

Garner's colleagues at Warner Bros. have already returned to work during his suspension; both Jack Kelly and Efrem Zimbalist Jr. have signed new deals that include healthy increases, and Roger Moore, who took Garner's place on Maverick, had it written into his contract that, should Garner return to the show, Moore wouldn't have to do any more TV at all.

"Should Garner return to the show. . ." Therein lies the rub. In a precedent-setting decision, Garner wins his lawsuit against Warner Bros., and wins again when the studio appeals the verdict. "I remember my lawyer asked me what I wanted," Garner would recall years later. "He said, 'Do you want a new contract, do you want a raise, or do you want out?' I said, 'I want out.'" And out he went—of the many WB stars suspended at one time or another by the studio, Garner would be the only one to win his freedom. "I wanted to be in control of my career. I didn't want somebody else making those decisions. If I was going to be a success, I wanted to be my success. If I was going to be a failure, I wanted to be my failure, not somebody else’s because they made the wrong choices."

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After all this, let's get to some shows, shall we? 

On Sunday night, ABC debuts its new documentary series The Valiant Years (10:30 p.m.), based on the memoirs of Sir Winston Churchill. It is, TV Guide says in an accompanying article, "the greatest drama of our times." Churchill had nothing to do with the production of the series and does not appear except in archival footage; as former producer Edgar Peterson, who helped get the project started, says, "We don't need Churchill, [he] has already written the script and that we have the original words." He thinks of the story as the ultimate Western: "We have a wonderful hero, Churchill; a dastardly villain, Hitler; and a terrific chase—World War II." Gary Merrill narrates the series, while the words of Churchill are,  read by Richard Burton; composer Richard Rodgers will win an Emmy for his incidental music. I suppose this is an example of the kind of show that Hubbell Robinson thinks of when he points the finger at viewers, and he has a point; I've seen from several editions of TV Guide that there were too many affiliates who didn't clear the series or aired it at other times; they'd rather show movies or syndicated programs that garner higher ratings and provide the stations with higher ad revenue.

Tuesday, an NBC White Paper (10:00 p.m.) takes an in-depth look at "The U-2 Affair." Chet Huntley hosts the hour, which presents a minute-by-minute timeline of the shooting down of an American U-2 spy plane by the Soviet Union in May. Initially, the United States claimed the plane was involved in civilian weather research, but were eventually forced to concede the existence of the U-2 after the Soviets produced its pilot, Francis Gary Powers, who was then tried and convicted of espionage in August. The affair resulted in the collapse of a U.S.-Soviet summit planned in Paris and gave Soviet premier Khrushchev another opportunity to grandstand in public; all in all, it was not one of America's more shining hours.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Family Classics presents a two-part adaptation of Alexandre Dumas' "The Three Musketeers" (7:30 p.m. each night, CBS), featuring a wonderful cast including Maximilian Schell as the heroic D'Artagnan, Vincent Price as the evil Cardinal Richelieu, Patricia Cutts as Milady de Winter, Felicia Farr* as Constance, Barry Morse as Athos, John Colicos as Porthos, and Tim O'Connor as Aramis. 

*In two years, she'll be Mrs. Jack Lemmon.

Also on Wednesday: Red Skelton's half-hour weekly variety series doesn't expand to an hour until 1962, but this week, in addition to his regular Tuesday night show, Red stars in an hour-long color special (8:30 p.m., CBS) in which his regular characters—Clem Kadiddlehopper, Freddie the Freeloader, Sheriff Deadeye, and others—take a tour along Hollywood Boulevard. Not surprisingly, they'll run into some famous folks along the way: Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, George Raft, Bobby Rydell, and William Demarist.

On Friday, the docudrama series Our American Heritage (9:00 p.m., NBC), hosted by Lowell Thomas, presents "Born a Giant," the story of Andrew Jackson's life prior to being elected president. British actor Bill Travers plays Jackson (an interesting choice), but the real interest is in the guest stars: Barbara Rush, Farley Granger, Walter Matthau, John Colicos (fresh from saving France as a Musketeer), and Robert Redford.

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Those are the highlights of the week after Thanksgiving. Each weekday afternoon at 5:15, WTRF in Wheeling, West Virginia has a 15-minute kids' program called Santa Claus, and KDKA in Pittsburgh has an identically-titled show for 10 minutes at 6:20; I suppose they're those shows where kids call in and talk to Santa and tell him what they want for Christmas (while mom and dad listen in to find out what to go shopping for). Otherwise, there are no Christmas programs to be seen.

Regular readers will have heard me bring this up—many times. But new readers come along all the time (so I can hope), and so it's worth repeating that Christmas programs in the early 1960s didn't start the moment the clock struck 12:00 on the day after Thanksgiving Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, in 1962, was the first animated Christmas special made for television, and the first to be shown annually. Rudolph came along in 1964, and the others after that. The networks, however, had the decency to at least wait until early December to start showing them. Nowadays, most of these shows exist for one reason only: to use their commercials to push ads aimed at the kids who are watching, and it wouldn't do to have these shows air too closely to Christmas; wouldn't give the parents much time to buy the goodies for the kiddies, would it? This year, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer airs on November 24

As we get closer to Christmas, we'll see more programs with a seasonal flair: movies, variety shows, and the like. And while they were certainly intended to push merchandise—after all, who can forget Ed Herlihy's commercials for Kraft and their holiday recipes, or the card commercials on Hallmark Hall of Fame?—they were also intended to provide a festive atmosphere for viewers. Amahl and the Night Visitors, the first Christmas special to be aired annually (as well as the first Hall of Fame special), made its television debut on December 24, and when variety shows were a regular part of television, they all aired their Christmas episodes a week or so out. 

Today, so much holiday programming consists of regurgitated romance movies from Hallmark (how far they've fallen!), Netflix, and the like, starting—I dunno, sometime right after Halloween? And, let's be honest, their actual connection to Christmas is tenuous at best; what they're really selling is a chaste form of romanticized sex. (I wonder what Hubbell Robinson would think of them?) As for more traditional Christmas specials, it almost seems as if the closer one gets to the big day, the fewer there are, at least on networks. Maybe things are different this year; in all honesty, I've stopped checking the schedules.

Don't worry, though. As far as "This Week in TV Guide" is concerned, the Christmas programs will be along shortly, if not quite as early as you've come to expect. Remember, good things come to those who wait. TV  

Around the dial

It's a good week for retrospectives here at the old homestead. Let's start at The Last Drive-In with a comprehensive look back at the career of Piper Laurie, featuring some wonderful pictures. We think of her in movies, but she's done a lot of TV during her long and glorious career.

Next up is James Garner, who claims his share of movie and TV credits as well. He's the subject of the James Garner Blogathon at Reelweegiemidget, and you'll want to click through to a week's worth of enjoyable essays on this most enjoyable actor.

William Holden is an actor I've always liked, and of course, he features in one of the greatest of all time movies about television, Network. But at Classic Film and TV Café, Rick reminds us of a movie that's not nearly as heavy, and has a lot of action besides: The Devil's Brigade.

Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) is one of those shows I read about and hear about all the time, but I've never checked it out, sad to say. But if anyone can talk me into it, it's Fire-Breathing Dimetrodon Time; see what's what with "The Glorious Butranekh."

Gene Reynolds, whose credits as a television creator and developer include M*A*S*H and Lou Grant, died this week at the age of 96, and at A Shroud of Thoughts Terence has a retrospective on the many, many series that he was involved in over the years. What a career.

Speaking of careers, what a career Kirk Douglas had. What a life! I always think of him as a dangerous actor, full of fire and energy and capable of anything at a moment's notice. He mostly appeared on television as himself, promoting or spoofing his movies, which themselves are on TV all the time. At The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew has a short but sweet appreciation that ends with a quote on death that we should all keep in mind.

Short but sweet this week, but you know what that means: even more to look at next week. And, of course, a TV Guide to keep you entertained tomorrow. TV  

Around the dial

This week David Hofstede takes a look at the TV books that inspired Comfort TV. It's a great list; I even have a couple of them on my own shelf. Hopefully my TV book, when it comes out, will be able to find a place on David's distinguished shelf. Now if I can only find one of his publishers...

Like Rick at Classic Film and TV Café , I've always liked James Garner's performance as Philip Marlowe in the 1969 movie of the same name. I also agree that Bogart's version of The Big Sleep, as much fun as it is, is not my favorite Marlowe movie. (Too much Bacall, to the detriment of Chandler's story. The Maltese Falcon is much better.)  I would have enjoyed seeing Garner tackling that story, about the men and women sleeping the big sleep.

In our British TV section, British TV Detectives reviews Taggart, the long-running, gritty police drama, while Cult TV Blog looks at the Special Branch episode "Intercept." Between these two blogs and Stephen Bowie's piece from last week, I'm finding more and more Brit TV that looks worth exploring.

The Twilight Zone Vortex reviews "Little Girl Lost," one of my favorite TZ episodes. I agree with the various shortcomings that Jordan mentions, but like him I'm most impressed by Charles Aidman's terrific performance as a physicist exploring a new dimension, and Bernard Herrmann's brilliant score. The Twilight Zone did very well by those two, not to mention Richard Matheson, who wrote the script.

A tip of the hat to the return of Profesor Barnhardt's Journal, which links to several Slate articles on how Twin Peaks changed television, and related topics. I'm hopeful that the new show will retain some of the magic of the original (the returning cast members certainly helps), but there's no way for people who didn't see the original series to understand how that series was unlike anything that had ever been seen on television, or at least anything I'd seen.

Ken Levine goes off-topic for a moment to explain why he no longer engages in text conversations. I'll go off-topic as well and say I agree with him! For as many times as I lament the loss of collective experiences - like watching TV - I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't give a thumbs-up to the idea that personal conversations might be a nice thing to resurrect.

Television Obscurities is taking a tour down memory lane with a look (or listen) to TV theme songs. I had two or three of those albums (when we bought albums), and I'm a sucker for those compilation videos on YouTube. Do people still feel as attached to today's themes? Not rhetorical; I really do wonder.

One thing I don't wonder about: I'l be back tomorrow with yet another TV Guide, this time taking a trip back to the 1960s for the first time in almost two months! TV  

James Garner, R.I.P.

About James Garner, who died over the weekend, plenty of thoughts:

      1.  Terry Teachout put it so well in his obituary this morning, that Garner had died at “the magnificent age of 86.”  I’m not privy to insider information, but I’d bet that Garner lived those 86 years as well as anyone.  He worked steadily for most of his career, combining successful television series with a big screen career that was modest in terms of quantity but oversize when it came to quality, with Grand Prix, The Great Escape, Support Your Local Sheriff, and an Oscar-nominated turn in Murphy’s Romance more than enough to qualify him as a movie star.x

2.   As an adjunct to #1, he was married to the same woman since 1956.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

3.   He was a rebel.  In the waning days of the studio system, he took on Warner Brothers, producers of his hit series Maverick.  Now, he wasn’t the only actor to do that – Clint Walker walked off Cheyenne in a similar dispute – but Garner made it stick.  He won his legal battle with WB, and never returned to the original series.  (He had a number of legal disputes with Universal, producers of The Rockford Files, as well.)

4.   Speaking of The Rockford Files, I watched the show regularly when it was on in first-run, primarily because, living in the world’s worst town, NBC was the only network we could get.  I always had fond memories of it, but when I watched it years later, I found it dated.  I couldn’t get past the big cars, bad clothes, overteased women, and constant smoking.  A couple of months ago, I revisited Rockford while I had the flu – I was a captive audience, so to speak.  And I came to the conclusion that it was Garner who kept Rockford from being dated.  His acting style – well, was it really a style?  He was so natural, so effortless, the way he played not only Garner, but most roles.  He had an easy self-confidence that was probably the result of a lot of hard work, but still.  The ability to project yourself that way can only be called a gift.

5.  I’d also compare him to Paul Newman in the sense that Garner was an actor who could give gravitas even to projects that didn’t deserve it.  Excepting Space Cowboys, of course.

6.  And, as Teachout notes, didn’t Garner steal the show from Newman, et. al in Twilight? You probably didn’t see that – it was one of those rare movies, a drama for grown-ups that didn’t rely on special effects, comic book tie-ins, loud music, car chases, and the like.

7.  Garner was really something behind the wheel, wasn’t he?  I mean, he, Newman, and Steve McQueen could have started their own race team.  They would have won a few, too.  Don’t know about the clash of egos, though.  Not to mention team orders.

8.  He wasn’t perfect, though.  I recall years ago when he starred as a U.S. Senator in Space, the disappointing miniseries of James Michener’s equally disappointing novel.  In the book, Garner’s character had been a Republican, but Garner insisted on changing him to a Democrat for the series.  The character wasn’t that political, but Garner was a big-time Democrat, and perhaps he just didn’t have the acting chops to put himself into the role of a Republican.  That’s one thing I’ve always admired about Martin Sheen, by the way – I’ve seen him play a Republican before, and he did it with as much conviction and acting integrity as he did later on in The West Wing.

9.  A last word about Maverick – it wasn’t originally intended to be a light-hearted Western spoof, but according to Brooks and Marsh in their Complete Directory, the change happened early in the series’ run, when a bored scriptwriter (later ID’d as Marion Hargrove) added a stage direction referring to Maverick looking at someone “with his beady little eyes.”  Garner thought the direction hilarious, and played the scene for laughs.  The rest is history.

10. We shouldn’t mourn James Garner too much.  His life was full, his days as an actor were principally behind him, and he left a great body of work that will continue to please audiences for a long time.  We may miss the fact that we won’t be able to turn on the TV and see an interview with him, or read another volume of memoirs, or see him in a cameo appearance – but he’s given us more than enough pleasure to make up for it.

11. If you want to read more, The Guardian – typical of Brit newspapers – has a wonderful write-up here.