This week in TV Guide: June 12, 1965

WI suppose I was about five, the year this issue came out, that I received a book from my mother. It was an illustrated version of "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!", the hit song by comedian Allan Sherman. I loved both the song and the book, and for many years this was how I knew Sherman—this and the other novelty songs he did, many of which were pantomimed on the beloved Twin Cities children's show Lunch With Casey.

But I digress. As I say, it wasn't until much later that I found out Sherman was also a game-show empresario of sorts. As he describes this week in an excerpt from his autobiography, A Gift of Laughter (which might be worth tracking down some day), he and his partner, Howard Merrill, created the show I've Got a Secret, which they then sold to Goodson-Todman Productions for the princely sum of $1, with the proviso that if the show made it to air they would each receive a weekly royalty of $62.50, and Sherman was named Associate Producer, receiving an additional $125 a week. (A few years later, Sherman notes, Goodson-Todman sold I've Got a Secret to CBS for three million dollars.) 

Lest you think creating a game show concept is all fun and games, it was neither for Sherman; as he puts it, "After all those months of taking out the bugs, we had a regular insectarium on our hands." Sherman frankly admits that the first show was a disaster, and that the "secrets" that they created for celebrity guests were insipid. This came to a stop around the time that actor Monty Woolley's secret was disclosed to be that he slept with his beard under the covers. Asked by Henry Morgan whether this was really true, Woolley shouted, "Of course not, you bloody idiot. Some damn fool named Allan Sherman told me to say it." 

And then, there was the president of one of the sponsors, Prom Home Permanent, who kept meddling with the lineup of the panel. He was "violently" opposed to Laura Hobson, Nina Foch and Faye Emerson, because they all had straight hair. "His idea of the perfect panelist was Harpo Marx."

Sherman also tells of when Sir Edmund Hillary became the first man to reach the top of Mount Everest. Figuring he'd never have a better guest, he told his Production Assistant Adraia to get him on the phone." Where? she asked. "At the top of Mount Everest," he replied. "It had never occurred to me that there might not be a telephone booth at the top of Mount Everest." As it turned out, she was able to get through to the bottom of Mount Everest, where she was told Hillary was expected back in a month. "Too late!" Sherman shouted. Tell them we need him now!"

Frankly, I don't believe this story, or at least I suspect Sherman embellished it for effect, and that effect is very effective indeed. He goes on to share Mark Goodson's mania for memos (when Sherman complained that Goodson would "exhaust the world's supply of paper" if he didn't desist, Goodson replied by memo. Bill Todman wasn't any better; Sherman's request for a raise had to wait until Todman finished a call to Henry Ford to have a Lincoln Continental made to order; Todman then told Sherman that while he wouldn't give him a raise, he had something even better: a promotion from Associate Producer to Producer. 

Whether or not any of this actually happened doesn't really matter, though, because it's entertaining, and Allen Sherman is an entertainer. This book might be worth tracking down some day. In part two of this article, he promises to tell us of the day when he finally got a secretary, and he spent that weekend wondering if she'd be blonde, slinky, with a throaty voice and exotic perfumes. That is, until he got to the office on Monday and met his new secretary, Roger Peterson. 

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

Sullivan:  Ed's live this week, with comedian Sid Caesar; comics Allen and Rossi; French pop singer Jean Paul Vignon; British rock 'n' roller Tom Jones; comic London Lee; singer Dee Dee Sharpe; the Seekers, folk singers; and the Wychwoods, an illusionist act which uses 14 trained poodles.

Palace:  We’re in the rerun zone at the Palace this week, with host Arthur Godfrey welcoming comedian Shelley Berman; songstress Dorothy Collins; singer John Gary; the comedy team of Gaylord and Holiday; Dwight Moore and His Mongrels; juggler Eva Vidos; and the Dalrays, comic acrobats.

Let's see: dog acts? Check. Comedians? Check. Comedy teams? Check. Singers? Check. Each show has ticked the boxes this week, which leaves us to look at the personalities.  Shelley Berman can be very funny, Dorothy Collins is easy on the eyes, and John Gary has a smooth voice. On the other hand, you have the Ceasar of comedians, and Tom Jones is still going strong! So it's not unusual for Sullivan to be the winner this week.

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

This week, Cleveland Amory is conducting what we might think of as something of a self-review, in which he takes a look back at some of his reviews of the past season about which, in his words, he's had "second thoughts" For, as he says, "One cannot re-review the past season without coming to grips—and possibly even stagehands—with the show which, ratings or no ratings, has become the biggest thing since Amos 'n' Andy." 

That show would be Peyton Place, and while Cleve was taken to task by many over his favorable review of the program, there's no question that everyone was talking about it. He still has one criticism, though: the pace. "The show has an irritating habit of making a federal case out of every conversation. At the wedding, for example: Rod: 'Your mother looks—beautiful.' Allison: 'You were going to say "happy," weren't you? Why didn't you, Rod?' Rod: 'Why didn't I say "happy"? Why didn't I, Allison? I don't know.' Etc, etc." And speaking of Allison, "If she can't get another emotion—or even another boy friend—would it be too much to ask for her to get another speed?"

Amory also offers praise for the best performances of the year: Jim Nabors and Frank Sutton were standouts on Gomer Pyle, as were Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick York on Bewitched. He also mentions a "splendid quartet" in serious drama: Richard Crenna (Slattery's People), David Janssen (The Fugitive), Vic Morrow (Combat!), and Robert Lansing (Twelve O'clock High).  

In late night, Amory's discouraged by the failure of ABC's Nightlife, which he calls a "monument to futility," which started out with Les Crane, and adds that "even when they did finally come up with the right man, Dave Garroway, they didn't seem to know it." And he laments the absence of new faces in the news, with the exception of ABC's Peter Jennings, and the lack of commentary on network news (specifically citing NBC, but it could apply to all three). However, let us not end on a down note. There were three bits of good news: the real possibility of a fourth commercial network, the growth of educational television, and the best news of all: CBS has a new president. James Aubrey is dead, long live James Aubrey.

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We're always looking for good, or interesting, programs during the summer rerun season, and we've got several this week.

Secret Agent is still in first-run on American television, and Saturday's episode is one of particular interest, especially for those who debate whether or not John Drake became Number Six. "Colony Three" (8:00 p.m., CBS) is, as one author put it, "a fascinating anticipation of The Prisoner." The premise: "Drake assumes a new identity and joins a group of defectors about to be transported to a training school for spies in Eastern Europe."

On Sunday, ABC presents the third installment in their Daring Americans series, "Assault on Le Mans" (6:30 p.m.), portraying American Grand Prix champion Phil Hill, one of the greatest racing drivers of the 1960s. Hill was the first American, and the only native-born one, to win the World Driving Championship. Now he's at the fabled Le Mans, a race he's won three times in the past. His teammate in the 24-hour race is Bruce McLaren, as they drive for the upstart American Ford team, taking on the legendary European powers, particularly Ferrari. Hill and McLaren don't win; as a matter of fact, they dropped out after 192 laps. But two years later, Ford would topple mighty Ferrari, the legendary Ford GT taking first, second and third. The documentary is done in cinéma vérité style by Robert Drew Associates, which famously did several similar documentaries on John F. Kennedy, including Primary.

As we move into reruns, Monday's Ben Casey (9:00 p.m., ABC) presents a story that, for all the complaints scriptwriters have about not being able to tell adult dramas, probably wouldn't have been told even five years ago. In "A Disease of the Heart Called Love," Shelley Winters plays a divorced, middle-aged nurse who becomes pregnant. She's also got a medical condition that makes her pregnancy dangerous. Casey and Zorba advise her to "terminate the pregnancy," but she wants to keep the baby. So this touches a number of buttons: unmarried mothers, abortion, the loneliness of the unmarried. They don't get much more adult than that. It's directed by Mark Rydell, and features Milt Kamen and, as Dr. Watson, James Doohan.

Tuesday features one of those how-many-times-has-this-happened-to-you moments on The Fugitive: (9:00 p.m., ABC): "When a philandering husband is found murdered, the chief suspect is his girl friend Lucey Russell. But Lucey has an alibi: she was with Kimble." I did a bit on this many years ago, where I looked at the typical tropes of typical series and wondered just how many times they actually happened to ordinary people. This one is a little better, though, in that you don't have to be relying on an escaped convicted murderer to provide your alibi; it could be someone cheating on their spouse, someone who called in sick to work, or any number of people who wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time doing something they shouldn't be doing. I think it's called karma.

I'm going off the primetime grid for Wednesday's choice: Stanley Kubrick's terrific noir The Killing (10:30 p.m., KMSP), with Sterling Hayden leading a gang planning a race-track robbery. The gang includes Vince Edwards, who was Ben Casey on Monday night; Elisha Cook, Jr. as a very nervous teller working for the gang on the inside; and Marie Windsor as the dame who does him wrong. Based on this movie, Kubrick and his producer, James Harris, got the chance to make a movie for MGM: Paths of Glory. That was a pretty fair movie, too.

Thursday's repeat episode of The Defenders is "Blacklisted" (9:00 p.m., CBS) with Jack Klugman starring as a formerly blacklisted actor whose comeback is being threatened by a "vigilante" group trying to get him fired. So we have Klugman, one of the most intense, scene-chewing actors around; we have McCarthyite villains in the "vigilantes" trying to prevent a decent man from earning a living; and we have The Defenders itself, one of the more strident, issues-oriented programs on the air.

In fact, the episode is quite good. Klugman is, for the most part, well within himself as a man who shows his regrets not by what he says or does, but by what he keeps inside him. Your opinion of the episode is going to be based in large part on your opinions of the blacklist, the Red Scare, and everything that's happened since.  The Defenders was one of the quality programs of the early 60s, a series that wasn't afraid to take on serious issues. Its flaw, and it was a major one, was when it stepped over the line into strident advocacy, as it increasingly did in later seasons. But decide for yourself—you can see it here.

On Friday night, ABC turns its attention to gambling in another amusing documentary, as host Terry-Thomas takes a humorous look at "the urge to gamble" in Everybody's Got a System. (7:30 p.m.) The show visits horse racing tracks in Europe, talks to bettors and bookies to learn about the sport's attraction, visits a bingo parlor to see how even small-scale gambling can thrill, and visits the casinos, where Thomas explains his own "system" at the roulette wheel. It seems lightweight, but a fun show, not unlike something you might see on History or A&E today.

Also on Friday, Jack Paar's in London for this week's rerun (9:00 p.m., NBC), with a stellar cast of his own: the legendary Judy Garland, the very witty Robert Morley, and the distinguished journalist Randolph Churchill, son of the late Winston. I've seen clips of this on one of the Paar compilation videos, and it's very funny—particularly this bit where a slightly tipsy Judy has some fun at Marlene Dietrich's expense:

Oh, and she can still sing a bit, too. What a sad, sad life she led.

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Fashion alert: it's time for another starlet to display the latest in haute fashion.  This time it's actress Janet Margolin, who will go on to a successful career with appearances in media as varied as Woody Allen movies, a Ghostbusters sequel, and episodes of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote.  But never mind that—her mission this week is to show off the newest craze, the Finnish Marimekko, made famous by Jackie Kennedy.

Janet Margolin died of cancer in 1993, not quite 30 years after this issue.

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James Arness is so big (besides being 6'7", that is), he even dominates this week's profile of Milburn Stone, who plays Doc on the long-running Gunsmoke. Stone remembers the first few years working with Arness, and he wasn't impressed: "He'd be late or wouldn't show up—never apologize. And once he was there he'd clown around." When Stone couldn't take it any longer, he lit into Arness at a rehearsal, telling him that he didn't belong in the business, and added that "I've read my contract and there's nothing in it that says I have to put diapers on you or wait for you. And if you ever show up late again, buddy, you'll have two things to explain—not only where you were, but where I went!" To Stone's surprise, Arness took the tongue-lashing like a man, telling him that "You're absolutely right." "From that moment on," Stone says, Arness changed, becoming the consummate profession we've read about in TV Guide. "I began to love that guy. He's a great big wonderful cub bear."

I watched Gunsmoke when I was a kid, primarily because my grandfather did, and although I wouldn't rank it as a favorite it was a memorable show nonetheless. The byplay between the main characters—Matt, Doc, Festus and Kitty, and the obvious chemistry between the actors playing them—is the glue that held the show together, and watching it in reruns today confirms the quality of the program.

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Finally, on this longer-than-usual entry, a brief mention of Edith Efron's profile of Gig Young. Young is an acclaimed stage and movie actor, and his career will end with three Oscar nominations (and one win) to his credit, but in this issue he's talking about his current series, The Rogues, in which he stars along with Charles Boyer and David Niven. I bring this up because this article, which I read some years ago now, was the first time I'd read about The Rogues, a series about a family of good-natured con artists making a living out of swindling people who deserve it. According to the reviews, there is a sense that The Rogues is too literate, too clever, for the average viewer who wants his television without having to think about it.

I first saw The Rogues a few years ago on MeTV, and I was absolutely charmed by it. It's a show that desperately deserves a commercial DVD release (although you can get copies if you know where to look); it's better than Leverage, more humorous than The A-Team, and not nearly as complicated as Mission: Impossible. And since it is a series, unlike The Sting, you get to see it every week. It should have run for more than one season, and if you ever get the chance you should give it a try. I will be surprised if my readers aren't as charmed by it as was I.

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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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This week in TV Guide: May 2, 1964

Often lost in the shuffle of more famous bombs, such as The Jerry Lewis Show, is the failure of Judy Garland's much-heralded TV series debut. This week we'll rectify that oversight, thanks to Vernon Scott's in-depth look at Judy's side of the story.

"I don't blame people for watching Bonanza instead of The Judy Garland Show," she tells Scott. "It was a natural choice." She says it without rancor, without bitterness, because in doing the show, she felt that there was something more important than ratings. "I wasn't disappointed," she says of them. "I don't think we deserved [higher ratings]. The time slot was impossible. After four or five years of loyalty to Bonanza, I can understand why viewers did not switch to my show." What was more important, she insists, is what she demonstrated to the industry. "I did prove to everybody that I was reliable. They said I'd never answer the bell for the second round. But we turned out 26 shows. And some of them were damned good, too. Especially the last five we did."

She calls the experience of doing a weekly series "very enlightening—and funny." It was "instant disaster" from the beginning, and sometimes "instant success." Every week, one way or the other. Speaking of the last five shows, which were done in a concert format (something Judy had wanted from the outset), she says, "By the time we discovered where we were going it was too late." But the network had insisted on a variety series, that it would be impossible to do the equivalent of a special every week, and she went along because "I believed they did know what they were doing." 

They, meaning the network executives, didn't like how she touched her guests so much, that viewers would think she was drunk or that there were sexual impliations. She didn't like the turntable stage they installed on the set; not only was it too noisy, it gave her motion sickness. There were nine different formats during the 24 weeks the show aired, and oftentimes she couldn't hear the orchestra because they were off to one side; she finally succeeded in getting them put on stage behind her. She was never a part of the editing process, so her hairdo and wardrobe would change from scene to scene with no explanation. 

Everyone agrees she could be difficult to work with. She only rehearsed two days a week, Thursdays and Fridays, with taping done on Friday nights. Last minute changes would be made after dress rehearsals, throwing everyone into a panic. Sometimes, she says, she'd be learning the lyrics to new songs by singing them off idiot cards. Despite all this, nobody has a bad word for her. "She wears everybody out," says producer Gary Smith, who lasted the longest of anyone on the show (21 episodes). "But she is a magnificent performer and she adapted herself beautifully to the weekly TV format." Smith, like everyone else who worked on the show, was eventually fired, presumably by Judy. But he only says, "She's a great creative star and an awesome personality." 

It was, Scott says, more of a personal than a professional defeat for Garland, for whom being popular is very important. Yet she remains grateful for having done the series, which she feels introduced her to new fans who'll want to see her in person on concert tours. "All in all, the show was a good thing to have happened to me. I learned a great deal. But if I had known what I was in for, I would never have tried a weekly series. Not ever."

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

Sullivan: Guests include songstress Patti Page; comics Bill Dana and Vaughn Meader; Jerry and the Pacemakers, English rock 'n' rollers; the Claytons, whip and rope act; and rock 'n' roller Little Stevie Wonder. (Plus the cat of "America Be Seated," with Louis Gossett, May Barnes, and Bibby Oscarwall. Vaughn Meader was apparently a no-show.)

Palace: Host Louis Jourdan introduces Olympic gymnasts Muriel and Abe Grossfeld, Armando Vega and NCAA champion gymnast Ron Barak; songstress Anna Maria Alberghetti; the singing King Sisters; comedian Henny Youngman; tap dancer John Bubbles; ventriloquist Russ Lewis; comics Lewis and Christy; and juggler Johnny Broadway.

We have plusses and minuses on both shows this week; after Palace's brief excursion into Wide World of Sports territory, there are some recognizable names, if nothing to set the world on fire. Over on Sullivan, we can't be too surprised in Vaughn Meader didn't appear; his career all but ended after the death of Kennedy. Otherwise, we see Bill Dana and Jerry and the Pacemakers while they were still big, and Stevie Wonder while he was still little, and that's good enough to give Sullivan the gold medal for the week.

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From 1963 to 1976, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever they appear, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era. 

There's folk music, as Cleveland Amory points out, and there's folk music. Gospel folk, country folk, city folk, Dixieland folk, and just plain folk folk. And just about all of it can be seen, from week to week, in ABC's music series Hootenanny. The show, hosted by Art Linkletter's son Jack, is broadcast from a different college each week, and features a wider range of talent than just about any other show on the air. Folk music, I should interject here, is just about my least favorite kind of music, and I'm someone with fairly eclectic tastes. Even I've heard of some of these acts, though—the Travelers Three, the Brothers Four, the Serendipity Singers, the New Christy Minstrels, even Johnny Cash, who I'd never considered a folk singer until now, but as Cleve says, just about everything is folk music today except for the Boston Symphony, and he isn't even sure about that.

It's all put together in an unpretentious manner by producer Richard Lewine and director Garth Dietrick, and that has to be a relief compared to some of the more overly produced variety shows on the air today. I doubt, for instance, that you'd see the same kind of staging as you do on NBC's Hullabaloo. "At its best," Amory says, "it's very little short of wonderful and even at its worst it's pretty fair TV fare. You name your favorite song and if you're patient, sooner or later someone will sing it." (I kind of doubt it in my case, but then, who knows?)

It's all music, except for one comedian featured on each show, something that seems to have been a trademark of music shows of the era. One of the best, Amory says, is a "diffident young man" named Jackie Vernon, whom we all know as the voice of Frosty the Snowman. "Everything about me used to be dull," he says in his trademark deadpan voice. "My favorite comedians were Bert Parks and Allen Ludden." He also tells a story about his grandfather, who had to leave the west because "he said a discouraging word." (It helps if you read the line in his voice.) Like so many things, Hootenanny eventually falls victim to the changing musical tastes that resulted from the British Invasion, but it was fun while it lasted. 

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The biggest sports event of the week comes to us from Louisville, Kentucky, where the great Northern Dancer wins the 90th running of the Kentucky Derby (5:00 p.m. ET, CBS). Nothern Dancer will go on to win the Preakness before finishing third in the Belmont Stakes; he will run one more race before pulling up lame and going to stud, having an equally successful career there.

However, the bigger sports news came not from any arena, but at the Hollywood Advertising Club, where ABC president Tom Moore sounded off on a few things, including some "radical changes" to sports in America. According to Henry Harding, these suggestions included replacing college football bowl games with an elimination tournament, determining champion golfers by a points system during the PGA tour, and shortening the major league baseball schedule to 60 games—two per weekend. The reaction from sportswriters was mostly negative, but let's take a step back and look at Moore's suggestions. The PGA has, indeed, gone to a points system, culminating in the FedEx Cup; whether or not that really determines the champion golfer of the year, it's a fact. Also a fact is the creation of the College Football Playoff, which has reduced the role of bowl games to filler on ESPN. It has many faults, but it's a reality. As for shortening the baseball season, it hasn't happened and probably never will, but the increase in playoff teams pushing the World Series into November and rendering much of the regular season meaningless, I think there are a lot of people who'd be on board to at least cut back. It'll probably happen when pigs fly, but who knows?

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Saturday night's late movie on Maine's WMTW is one that should bring a smile to any fan of the Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker team: Zero Hour! (10:30 p.m.), the movie that served as the model for Airplane! Dana Andrews stars as Ted Stryker, the ex-fighter pilot haunted by guilt who's called on to land a passenger airlineer after the crew becomes sick from eating bad fish; Linda Darnell is his wife, who's preparing to leave him because of his inability to pull his life back together; and Sterling Hayden is Captain Treleaven, Stryker's old commanding officer, who's called in to help talk Stryker down. If all this sounds familiar, it should; ZAZ paid $2,500 for the rights to the screenplay in order to make sure they didn't run into a problem with copyright while working on Airplane! (See the comparisons here.) If you're looking for something a little more conventionally great, stick around until 11:40 p.m. for the John Wayne classic The Searchers (WJAR in Providence).

Nelson Rockefeller's brother Winthrop, currently running for governor of Arkansas, is the guest on Sunday's Meet the Press (6:00 p.m., NBC), notable because it originates from the World's Fair in New York. I've noticed that a number of programs are broadcast from the Fair during its two-year run; today, you might see Meet the Press broadcast from the site of the Super Bowl, but only if NBC's showing it, and only if the topic concerns sports on TV. Later, on Lassie (7:00 p.m., CBS), Timmy and Lassie bring an injured raccoon back to the farm after a tornado. No word on whether or not they found a dislodged building with a woman's legs protruding from underneath it.

On Monday, it's the debut of the daytime drama Another World (3:00 p.m., NBC), which will spawn a spinoff, Somerset, and will run on the network for 35 seasons and 8,891 episodes; as I recall, that was one of my mother's favorite soaps. In primetime, the echo of President Kennedy's assassination continues to reverberate on Sing Along With Mitch (10:00 p.m., NBC), a special segment of which is devoted to songs that were favorites of the late president, including "Beyond the BLue Horizon," "Too-ra Loo-ra Loo-ra," and "Greenland's Icy Mountains." I can't help but wonder if those really were JFK's favorites; the whole Camelot legend was predicated in part on stories that the soundtrack to the musical was one of his favorites, although I've read reports that, in fact, he had barely any interest in the show. But as we know, when the truth confronts the legend, print the legend.

Red Skelton's guests on Tuesday are a pair of child stars: Mickey Rooney and Jackie Coogan (8:00 p.m., CBS). Interesting paring, don't you think? And tonight's episode of The Jack Benny Program (9:30 p.m., CBS) is a classic of its type; Jack finds himself (in his dream) on trial for murder, with none othet than the great Perry Mason (Raymond Burr) defending him. You can see that episode, including the hilarious courtroom scene, on YouTube. And the Bell Telephone Hour (10:00 p.m., NBC) presents a truly eclectic hour of music, with Van Heflin narrating "Concord Bridge" to Morton Gould's "Declaration Suite" in honor of Armed Forces Day; Connie Francis singing a medley of popular songs, and opera stars Jon Vickers and Giulietta Simionato performing the judgment scene from Aida.

Speaking as we have been of classics, Wednesday's Dick Van Dyke Show (9:30 p.m., CBS) gives us one of the best: the episode "That's My Boy??," where Rob has doubts that the baby Laura brought home from the hospital is the right one, until he meets the parents of the other baby. You can see, and laugh along with, the episode here; stories persist that the joke from the end of the episode produced the longest laugh ever, much of which had to be edited out due to the length. You can read an interesting anticdote about that episode here. And The Danny Kaye Show (10:00 p.m., CBS) kicks off a series of reruns with its Christmas show, featuring the aforementioned Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore, along with Mr. Christmas, Andy Williams.

On Thursday, the primetime edition of Password (7:30 p.m., CBS) features Lucille Ball and her husband, Gary Morton as the celebrity players. Dr. Kildare (8:30 pm., NBC) has a rare dramatic appearance by Cyril Ritchard as an eccentric writer who throws Blair General into a tizzy when he insists he'll be dead within a week. And on Kraft Suspense Theatre (10:00 p.m., NBC), Keenan Wynn portrays an innocent man charged with murder; when he finds that he enjoys the notoriety, he confesses to the crime.

The week's end kicks off with the day's beginning: the recently retired baseball great Stan "The Man" Musial is a guest on Today (Friday, 7:00 a.m., NBC). Sticking with NBC for primetime, David Frost makes a return appearance on That Was The Week That Was (9:30 p.m.), guesting for the first time since the early weeks of the show; he was, of course, one of the creators and stars of the British edition. And at 10:00 p.m., Jack Paar's guests include Richard Burton, currently starring in "Hamlet" on Broadway; you can see an excerpt from that appearance here. 

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And now the story behind a concept called Project 120, a movie called Johnny North, and the picture below, in which Ronald Reagan is beating the hell out of Angie Dickinson.

It all started with a deal between NBC and the production company MCA to produce a series of two-hour feature movies that would be made especially for television, and distributed later to movie houses. (In the pre-DVD era, this would make more sense that it does today.) The first of the planned features to emerge from Project 120 was called Johnny North, based on Ernest Hemingway's short story "The Killers." "But, as the poet said, there's many a slip 'twixt the conference table and the screen." The movie, which was budgeted at just under $250,000, came in instead at more than $900,000. Not only that (as if that wasn't enough to begin with), the powers that be judget that the finished product was both too sexy (witness a kissing scene between Dickinson and her race-car-driver boyfriend, John Cassavetes) and too violent (not only did Reagan rough up Angie, she also got belted around by both Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager). In order to recoup the costs, MCA has now decided that the movie will be released in theaters, renamed Ernest Hemingway's The Killers. NBC says Project 120 will continue (as, indeed, it does), only with less sex, less violence, and less cost.

As for that picture—well, The Killers was Ronald Reagan's last movie, one which he made against his better judgment. It was the only time he ever playedd the heavy, and he was said to be quite distraught over the scene in which he slaps Dickinson; it was the one role that Reagan most regretted playing. Of course, unbeknownste to all, he has a much bigger role ahead of him. 

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MST3K alert: The Indestructible Man (1956) On his way to the gas chamber, "The Butcher" vowed he'd return from the grave and get the three men who doublecrossed him. Lon Chaney, Casey Adams. (Saturday, 11:30 p.m., WNAC in Boston) When combined with the short that preceded it, part two of "Undersea Kingdom," Lon Chaney became the first and only actor to appear in both segments of a single MST3K episode. Look for a short, fatal, turn from future McHale's Navy star Joe Flynn. Your pleasure, I promise, will not be indestructible. TV  

Around the dial

That looks like the coolest TV setup, doesn't it? It reminds me of fall Sundays back when I was a kid, when I'd bring a portable set out from the bedroom and put on top of the console in the living room, so I could watch two football games at once. Whenever one of them looked like it was getting interesting, I'd turn up the sound on that one and turn it down on the other. I don't watch football anymore, and I don't miss it—but I do miss memories like that.

There are other memories worth pursuing, though. A couple of weeks ago, we looked at an article about ways people could secure tickets to be in the studio audience for their favorite television shows, and I asked if anyone had been in the audience for a show. Our loyal reader Bill chimes in with his own memories: "I was fortunate to attend tapings of Wheel of Fortune on two occasions when they did special themed weeks in Orlando, Florida.  The first was at Universal Studios Florida in 1999 and the second at SeaWorld Orlando in 2008 (actually won an audience prize for correctly guessing the name of the 1973 pilot which was called Shopper’s Bazaar). I also remember Pat Sajak after one episode thanking everyone for attending the late evening recordings, that he and Vanna were taking a quick break to change clothes, and when coming back 'we’ll all pretend it’s tomorrow!'  It was a fun experience, although ironically I don’t really watch the show itself." Sounds like a lot of fun, Bill!

And now, on with the show. At bare•bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project turns to Francis Irby Gwaltney's tenth-season story, "Lonely Place," a dark, nasty piece of work with Teresa Wright, Pat Buttram, and Bruce Dern doing their best to chill us all.

At Cult TV Blog, John detours, as he sometimes does, to look at the Big Finish series of audio adventures based on popular British shows of the past. This week, it's "Remember Me," from the supernatural mystery series Sapphire and Steel, but that's not all; there's also a bonus review of the slasher film The Flesh and Blood Show. Two for the price of one!

David returns to his journey through 1970s TV this week at Comfort TV, and he's up to Monday nights in 1974. For me, Mondays always meant Monday Night Football back then (there's that game again!), but there was much more than that; how about CBS's lineup of Gunsmoke, Maude, Rhoda, and Medical Center? Not bad.

I've mentioned this before, I think, but there's always something haunting about Judy Garland, especially when you contrast pictures of her from her Wizard of Oz days with those taken in the 1960s, when she looked at least fifteen years older. At Realweegiemidget, Gill reviews one of the many movies about Garland's youth, the teleflick Rainbow: The Judy Garland Story, with Andrea McArdle.

Let's stay on the Garland express for a moment and look, not at a portrayal of Judy, but the real thing: The Clock, a 1945 movie co-starring Robert Walker, which gives her a chance to demonstrate her dramatic acting chops after a string of musicals. You can read Maddie's take on it at Classic Film and TV Corner.

A couple of weeks ago I talked about Lucille Ball on the Dan Schneider Video Interview, so it's a good tie-in to look at Paul's review of Lucy & Desi: A Home Movie over at Drunk TV. It's not a biopic, but a documentary, and it's indeed based on home movies of the couple during the first years of their marriage. If you're a Lucy fan, you might want to make sure you see this if you haven't already.

I've said this before, but the only thing as much fun as watching a classic movie or TV show is reading about it, and Martin Grams is on the job this week with reviews of four new books from Bear Manor Media, covering a quartet of classics: Lawman, Sheena, Queen of the Jungle; Shane; and North by Northwest. All signs point to some good additions to your library.

Last week I wrote a brief tribute to Doctor Who's William Russell, who died at the age of 99; this week Terence adds some well-selected words of his own at A Shroud of Thoughts; he also has an appreciation for film and television star Janis Paige, who died June 2, aged 101. Both of them are well worth remembering.

At A View from the Junkyard, Mike and Roger compare notes on "Killer," an episode of The Avengers that doesn't feature Linda Thorson. After the Diana Rigg years, it was bound to be difficult getting used to a new companion for Steed, but I thought Thorson grew into the role quite well, and her Tara is endearing on her own merits. See what they think, and what you think.]q

One of my favorite guest panelists in the last years of What's My Line? was the columnist Suzy Knickerbocker; endearingly, her last name was so long that, after her first couple of appearances, her nameplate simply said "Suzy." There's much to know about her, and you can read some of it at Travalanche. TV