This week in TV Guide: March 30, 1968

This is one of those issues where what takes place between the covers is invariably overshadowed by the events that aren't found in the pages. 

On Sunday, March 31, President Johnson announces, at the conclusion of a nationally televised address in which he discloses a de-escalation of the war in Vietnam, that he will not seek reelection, throwing the presidential race into chaos. On Thursday, April 4, Martin Luther King is assassinated in Memphis, touching off rioting nationwide and throwing the entire country into chaos. It is, as Broadcasting magazine will say, the beginning of "what may have been the stormiest 10 days of news coverage in [television's history." By the time it ends, with King's funeral the following Tuesday, the three networks will have preempted 55 hours of programming, resulting in a loss estimated to have been $5.65 million in cancelled commercials, plus an additional $1.3 million in expenses for special news coverage.* The Academy Awards broadcast, scheduled for the day before King's funeral, is postponed for two days after several stars, both black and white, inform Academy officials that they will not attend the ceremony. And we'll be doing much of it all over again in two months, with the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.

*The detail on television and radio coverage of the news events is really quite interesting to read; I won't go into the detail here, but if you'd like to look at it, I'd urge you to check out the story at Broadcasting.

Unlike the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963, neither of these events calls for wall-to-wall continuous coverage; in particular, according to Broadcasting, coverage of the violence that broke out in major cities throughout the nation "was generally carried in regularly scheduled newscasts in an effort not to exacerbate already tense situations in numerous ghetto areas. Network news crews, like their counterparts from local affiliates, abstained from using bright lights and other conspicuous pieces of equipment." But while many of the programs listed in this issue will be broadcast, there's no doubt a pall will hang over them.

And what might have been affected by the breaking coverage? President Johnson's speech began at 9:00 p.m. ET on Sunday and ran for 40 minutes. CBS and NBC preempted The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour and Bonanza, respectively, and presented commentary following the speech up to the top of the hour, whereupon they joined their regularly scheduled programs, Mission: Impossible and The High Chaparral. ABC, on the other hand, devoted only seven minutes to analysis, and then began a late start to the Sunday night movie, a repeat of the made-for-TV adaptation of Johnny Belinda. To make up for it, however, they also expanded their regular 15-minute late evening news roundup to 25 minutes. On Wednesday evening, ABC and NBC both carried half-hour specials on the Vietnam negotiations; ABC preempted Dream House at 8:30 p.m., and NBC delayed the start of The Tonight Show for 30 minutes.

The King assassination came just after 7:00 p.m. ET (the YouTube footage of Walter Cronkite announcing the assassination on the CBS Evening News is from the West Coast rebroadcast at 6:30 p.m. PT, 9:30 p.m. ET), and all three networks interrupted their regular programming with bulletins that King had been shot; additional bulletins were aired when King's death was reported. President Johnson's statement on the assassination was carried live on all three networks at 9:00 p.m., and ABC followed with a one-hour special from 10 to 11 p.m. (a time they usually gave back to the affiliates). CBS had a short special at 10 p.m., and an additional one-hour special from 11:00 p.m. to midnight. NBC followed the Johnson speech with a half-hour special at 9: 30 p.m., which would have knocked Dragnet off the air. 

Of course, there are more preemptions to follow the next week, but that's another story for another week.

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

Sullivan: Scheduled: singers Frankie Laine, Lana Cantrell, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, and the Young Americans; comedians Myron Cohen, Wayne and Shuster, and Richard Pryor; dancer Peter Gennaro; and the Barrington Sisters balancing act. (Added guests included Charlton Heston, talking about Planet of the Apes; Lana Cantrell was apparently a no-show.)

Palace: Host Jimmy Durante does his piano-smashing rendition of ‘The Lost Chord” and introduces the Beatles (“‘Lady Madonna’) on tape from London. Also: singer-dancer Liza Minnelli, comics Tim Conway (as the coach of a losing Olympic team) and Jerry Shane, Honky-Tonk musicians Fred and Mickie Finn, and Le grand Ballet Classique from Paris.

This week offers a pretty good comparison. In addition to talking about Apes, Charlton Heston does a recitation of Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, the famous "With malice towards none" speech, particularly poignant given the events to come this week. Ed's stand-up guests, Richard Pryor, Myron Cohen, and Wayne and Shuster, are usually very funny. Now, the Young Americans—well, this is where the balance of power starts to shift to Palace, with Durante, Liza (with a Z), and Tim Conway. Oh, and did I mention the Beatles? It's close, but this week goes to The Palace by a nose.

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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.

So what is Cleve cooking up for us this week? Funny you should say that, because his focus is on Julia Child and The French Chef, now in its fifth season, and while they're in reruns currently (with new color episodes coming soon!), this just gives you a chance to catch up on what you might have missed with this "remarkable program."

Amory begins with a premise that I don't think we pay enough attention to: the status of the show's host as a genuine television star. "Julia Child is not just a natural, she is without doubt the most natural performer: television has yet uncovered, Indeed she is perhaps the only performer in the entire medium who is never the slightest bit nervous, the slightest bit coy, the slightest bit 'on' or the slightest bit anything. She is so completely oblivious to the camera that she seems to come right through to us*without any camera at all." Not only that, she has the rare talent, and indeed it is rare, of being able to transcend her material. Even if you're not interested in cooking, you become drawn into the program because of her. I've only experienced one program like that myself; the original Top Gear, which forced one to become a fan of cars whether or not they were, just because the hosts and their personalities were so compelling.

Another thing about her is that, while she definitely takes cooking seriously, she doesn't take herself that seriously, nor how she does her cooking. At one point, while in the process of cutting a chicken breast, she comments that "This is like so many recipes we’ve done where it doesn’t make so much difference where—I mean what—I mean how—you have your proportions, so long as you get the general idea." I always thought that Julia Child was, in a very real sense, the people's chef, the antithesis of the snobbish artiste chef who looks down his nose at anyone who might prefer an old-fashioned burger and fries. Cleve particularly enjoyed watching her prepare a chocolate soufflé, "a nice dessert to have up your sleeve." Before anyone knew it, flour was flying, egg whites were being beaten, and she "was breathing so hard it sounded as if she had a stethoscope on and was being examined by her doctor." Predictably, the soufflé emerged from the oven in perfect condition. "Now," she concluded, "you want to hurry into the dining room, gliding softly so as not to disturb it. And don’t forget there’s a trick to serving it, too. Take your knife and fork back to back and plick it in the center." That, our critic concludes, is advice that anyone can take to the bank, no matter what you do.

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Amidst the jumble of the week's programming, there are still things we can count on, beginning Saturday, with the truly outstanding documentary "Jesse Owens Returns to Berlin" (8:30 p.m. PT, KTVU). Written, produced, and directed by the great documentarian Bud Greenspan, the 60-minute special follows Owens as he returns to Berlin, the site of his 1936 Olympic triumph, to relive his four-gold medal performance; the hour ends with the mayor of West Berlin telling Owens that "30 years ago, Adolf Hitler refused to offer you his hand. Today, I am proud to offer you both of mine." (Or words to that effect; I'm quoting from memory.) You don't have to be a fan of the Olympics to be impressed, and moved, by this film.

Picking through the rubble of Sunday's schedule, we have Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic in the ninth annual "Young Performers Concert" (4:30 p.m., CBS). You can see from the broadcast how casual Lenny looks here, dressed in a turtleneck rather than the white tie and tails. Allen Hughes has a review of the concert here. Later, on Firing Line (6:30 p.m., KQED), William F. Buckley Jr. debates the question of whether or not the Supreme Court favors the criminal. The law-and-order issue is going to be a dominant theme throughout the year's presidential campaign—and up to today, come to think of it.

On Monday, Jack Benny plays himself in a Lucy Show episode that sees the redhead trying to convince the tightwad to move his fortune from his subterranean vault into the bank. Hilarity ensues. (8:30 p.m., CBS) That's followed by The Andy Griffith Show, with Ken Berry starring as Sam Jones in the pilot for Mayberry R.F.D., the Griffith show's successor beginning in the fall. (9:00 p.m., CBS) And it's a rare Christmas-in-March movie on the late show, Larceny, Inc. (11:30 p.m., KPIX), with Edward G. Robinson as a paroled criminal who buys a luggage shop in order to break into the next-door bank at Christmastime, only to find the luggage business too successful for him to quit. 

Tuesday is the day of the Wisconsin primary, and all three networks plan coverage during the evening. With President Johnson out of the race, Eugene McCarthy is the big winner on the Democratic side, garnering 56 percent of the vote, his last major hurrah before Robert Kennedy wins the Indiana primary the following month. In the Republican primary, former Vice President Richard Nixon is the landslide winner, garnering nearly 80 percent. For something considerably more enjoyable, check out NBC's Petula Clark special (8:00 p.m.), with special guest Harry Belafonte. You'd have thought that this would be a pretty uncomplicated program, but in this interview, Pet talks about the controversy generated by "this nice little white lady touching this large black gentleman on the hand." Have you noticed, by the way, how much race plays a role in so many of this week's programs?

On Wednesday, Country singer and Hee Haw co-host Roy Clark makes his TV acting debut on The Beverly Hillbillies (8:30 p.m., CBS) in a dual role as Cousin Roy and his mother Myrtle; seems Roy's planning to market Myrtle's homemade medicine, in competition with Granny. Following that, a two-part Green Acres begins with Arnold the Pig on his way to Hollywood after starring in a local play (9:00 p.m., CBS). Yes, the wonderful world of Hooterville. 

Anything on Thursday is bound to look trite in retrospect, but let's look at a hard-hitting episode of Ironside (8:30 p.m., NBC) that sounds as if it could have been taken from The A-Team: "Ironside's efforts to break a Vietnam hero’s appointment with the gas chamber are jeopardized by the condemned man’s buddies, a trio of avenging paratroopers who have threatened death to everyone connected with the conviction." Gary Collins is the hero, and Gavin MacLeod one of the avenging paratroopers. Later, Dean Martin welcomes Jimmy Stewart, George Gobel, and Shecky Greene (and couldn't we all use a laugh?), the highlight being Jimmy's impression of Dean as host.

Without doubt, the highlight of Friday's entertainment is the NET Playhouse presentation of Chekhov's drama "Uncle Vanya" (9:00 p.m., NET), starring Sir Laurence Olivier, Sir Michael Redgrave, Joan Plowright, and Rosemary Harris. Chekhov's bleak play "focuses on three people who must admit that the man they idolize is a pompous, self-serving nonentity." Could it be a parable for today? Who knows; what I do know is that it's wonderful to run across these old classics in such clean, crisp restorations. Go Chek it out and see what I mean. Later, CBS Reports (10:00 p.m.) is scheduled to present an American profile of "Home Country USA," a look at the great forgotten resources of grass roots America, including shipwrights constructing wooden sailing ships, doctors returning to their rural roots, an ironworks that hires poverty-stricken former cotton laborers, and more of what America used to be all about. Meanwhile, ABC's documentary The Confrontation (10:00 p.m.) takes a look back at the Army-McCarthy hearings. 

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We could probably stand for something light right about now, so what better time for Dick Hobson's article on "Four Days with the Remarkable Mrs. Morton," aka Lucille Ball. 

The scene opens Monday morning at the script reading, held in the dining-cum-conference room that was once occupied by the likes of Joseph P. Kennedy, Dore Schary, and Howard Hughes, and here we get some insight into Lucy's show biz acumen; turning to head writer Milt Josefsberg, she critcizes a bit on page 12: "That's awfully radio! It's just radio exposition! I kept hoping there’d be a joke coming up, not just a lot of words!" To Josefsberg, she says, "Let's go! Don’t just sit there with your chin on your expensive hand!" When husband Gary Morton offers a one-liner, with the explanation that "I was just thinking by myself over here," Lucy replies, "No, darling." Later, Morton will talk about life with Lucy: "She thinks she’s an actress playing Lucy Carmichael. She thinks she puts Lucy Carmichael away for the night at the studio. But I’ve been living with Lucy Carmichael at home for six years! At breakfast we'll do that Laurel and Hardy shtick. She won’t be aware the toast is burning. I’m watching. Then she has that way of saying, ‘There goes the toast!"

  The Mortons warm up the audience

In the projection room where Citizen Kane was first screened, Lucy sits alone, watching the rough-cut of the episode where Vivian Vance guests, and offering her feedback: "No, open with the long shot." "Go to that face." "Let’s move her over in the two-shot." "Go out on me." Later, she and regular Mary Jane Croft begin rehearsal on a scene. "Mary Jane, in this scene coming up, give a beat there after your first line." Mary Jane: "Do you really want me to say that line about 'I’ve got to go catch the movie at the Paramount'?" Lucy: "Well, if you want to stay friends with Mr. Bluhdorn, you’d better." That reference to the chairman of Gulf & Western, the company that bought out Desilu for a cool $17 million, is a reminder that the "little studio that could" no longer exists. Says Hobson, "It still makes her cry when she thinks about it." Later, after a call to last week's guest star, Carol Burnett ("Carol, darling, you were marvelous! I always said you’d make it, if you’d just pay attention."), the day ends with a script conference, and more feedback for Josefsberg, who tells her he has four options for a joke t0 fill out a scene: "There's no time now. You can give them to me for Christmas. You never know what to give me. Now, don't worry, fellas, I'll simply do something."

Wednesday is blocking day, and Lucy has to deal with this week's guest star, Buddy Hackett, who complains that "Lucy doesn't understand my comedy. She’s basic, while I am not of this world." Lucy's constantly battling over his continuous ad-libs, to which Buddy replies, "All right, if you’d rather have a plebeian laugh instead of something intellectual." When Lucy says "I'd rather have it," Hackett says, "You can say anything you want. I'll get even with you when we get on the air." This breaks Lucy up; she "yowls, stamps her foot, throws her arms around his. neck, and kisses him on the forehead. The Bad Boy beams." We also get a glimpse of Lucy's former husband, Desi Arnaz. "I’ve rented him space in one of my studios and he’s working again." His hair is now almost totally white; the rating on his own production, The Mothers-in-Law, are holding up, keeping him on the comeback trail.

Finally, it's Thursday: shooting day. Lucy bursts from her dressing room, "Quiet on the set!" Hackett's still having some problems with his lines, and asks, "Do I always have to sayh the same lines?" By 8:00 p.m., the audience of 400 has made its way into the studio's bleachers. Gary warms up the audience, introduces Hackett, who promises "I'm going to ad-lib a lot. We're on film. Lucy can't stop me," and then Lucy herself, "the star of our show." She's a little concerned that son Desi hasn't shown up yet: Desi IV, one of the most famous babies in television history, "who was welcomed at birth 15 years ago by 20,000 letters and 2000 telegrams." When he makes a belated appearance in the audience, everyone cheers.

And when it's all over, Lucy returns to being Mrs. Gary Morton. She climbs behind the wheel of her car and looks at the note she's attached there: "Stop for bagels for Gary."

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MST3K alert: The Mole People (1956) In Asia, a scientific expedition discovers an ancient tribe of Sumerians. John Agar, Synthia Patrick, Hugh Beaumont. (Saturday, 11:30 a.m., KNTV in San Jose) This is the fourth and final appearance on MST3K by Hugh Beaumont, but without question his most memorable "appearance" is on Lost Continent, when, during one of the host segments, Mike Nelson portrays him as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. ("I come bearing a message of unholy death. I'm really going to give you the business, destroy you, your world, and all that you know. But first, a stern talking-to.") In all the long history of MST3K, it's perhaps the most absurd moment ever, which is why it's so great. But a last word on The Mole People: although he's not listed in the TV Guide, the cast also includes Alan Napier. So we've got Ward Cleaver, Alfred the butler, and the former Mr. Shirley Temple. How cool is that?  TV

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This week in TV Guide: October 22, 1966

When it comes to "Mod," no city defines the term better than the London of the 1960s. And that's where Lucille Ball is this Monday in a special hour-long edition of The Lucy Show entitled "Lucy Goes to London" (8:30 p.m. PT, CBS), with Anthony Newley on hand to take the world's favorite redhead around on a tour of the world's swingingest city. The premise sees Lucy winning a limerick contest that earns her a one-day tour of the city. Newley plays her tour guide, the owner of a threadbare travel agency, her other guests are Wilfrid Hyde-White as a museum guide; James Robertson Justice as the museum's drector; Peter Wyngarde as Petruchio, Shakespeare's male lead in The Taming of the Shrew, and the Dave Clark Five (as themselves?). Newley also finds some time, as himself, to perform songs from his hit musicals Stop the World and The Roar of the Greasepaint). 

As Robert Musel looks on, Lucy is preparing for a mod dance sequence to be staged at Osterley House, one of the stately homes you always see in tours of England. Looking at some of the "far-out costumes that end 6 inches above the knees", she wonders out loud to Musel if they're supposed to be short skirts or long belts, then proceeds to show off her own "notably elegant legs" in various outfits that form a pictorial during the scene. It can be painful sometimes watching these shows where your favorite stars try to act younger than their years, but if anyone can pull it off, I suspect it's Lucille Ball. Anyway, you've got a link to the video up there; you can check it out for yourself. 

In case you were wondering, and it should come as no surprise, the Brits love Lucy as mucg as we do; throughout her time there, "Truck drivers gaped and slowed down to give her the traditional thumbs up of approval, and there was a good deal of cheerful backchat with passers-by." In fact, while cast and crew were filming at Mme. Tussard's, she received quite a fright when she was approached for an autograph by a cleaning woman. The poor lady just wanted a good look at Lucy, so she had stood quietly, staring at the star and hoping not to attract any attention, totally unaware that from an angle she appeared to be part of one of the wax displays. And, of course, when one of those figures appears to come to life and start walking toward you—well, what else can you do but scream? Lucy happily, if somewhat shakily, signed the autograph. 

One scene in particular demonstrates Lucy's dedication to her work. It takes place at the poluted river Thames, which Musel describes as "'not much better than a sewer in some stretches." Lucy's character expresses a desire to go punting on the Thames, but Newly's hapless travel agent can only come up with an inflatable raft. Ball was warned that if she sank with the raft, as was called for in the script, she'd need typhoid and other shots, and if she swallowed any of the "sludge," she'd probably have to have her stomach pumped. Why don't we just go to a nice, clean—and safe—reservoir and film it there? Lucy, however, disagreed, and since she also happened to be Executive Producer of the special, her word was final. To prove it, she "went into the Thames up to her lips right then and there." No stunt doubles for this star.

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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 scheduled guests: Jim "Gomer Pyle" Nabors, who sings "The Impossible Dream" and "Swanee"; singer Peggy Lee; jazz pianist-bandleader Duke Ellington; Mirella Freni and Gianni Raimondi, of the Metropolitan Opera; comics Joan Rivers and Norm Crosby; the Kovac and Rabovsky Gypsy Ballet; Upstairs at the Downstairs, comedy troupe; Tanya the Elephant; and the Muppets puppets.

Palace: Comedienne Phyllis Diller, making her debut as a Palace hostess, presents singer Tony Martin; comedian Bob Newhart, who offers a monolog about a policeman and a would-be suicide; Herman’s Hermits, rock ‘n’ roll group; dancer Lada Edmund Jr.; magician Kirk Kirkham; Del Morals’ acrobatic act; and the Palace Duo, trapeze artists.

You might remember that last week I promised I'd compare TV Guide's scheduled listing of Sullivan guests with the actual show lineup; this week's description was pretty accurate. There was only one significant addition, but I think it's worth mentioning; the four-person comedy troupe Upstairs at the Downstairs, one of those members being one Madeline Kahn. Otherwise it's a tough call, with Bob Newhart and Herman's Hermits making a strong statement for Palace. On the whole, though, I think Peggy Lee and Duke Ellington make the difference, and on that basis Sullivan carries 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. 

It's always nice to be able to analyze one of Cleveland Amory's reviews from the perspective of having actually seen the series he's reviewing, and this week we have such a case, with CBS's WWII action-adventure series Jericho. I never saw it during its original sincle season, but I had the chance to view the entire series this year, so when Cleve calls Jericho "the season’s best new adventure-filled, action-packed series involving undercover work in a fun war," I'm in a position to agree with him. Mind you, I didn't like the show quite as much as he did, or perhaps his ardor dimmed somewhat as the season progressed, but as Amory points out, it has a good many things going for it.

Start with the three principals, Don Francks, John Leyton, and Marino Masé, playing the three members of a special unit, code-named Jericho, sent to pull off impossibly impossible missions with the help of local partisans. They're all good actors, playng characters that are "intrinsically interesting," and though the show can be heavy-handed at times, well, what isn't? Amory singles out one episode which he considers "one of the finest individual episodes of any show we've ever seen," which is high praise indeed, particularly coming from Our Critic. It involved choirboys being smuggled into a secret German submarine base carrying loaves of bread containing bombs, and if that doesn't whet your appetite enough to go to Roku and check it out for yourself, there's not a whole lot more I can do for you. (It's called "A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and POW!" but don't let that stop you; remember that reporters don't compose their own headlines, either.) 

Having watched Jericho just after finishing Garrison's Gorillas and just before starting Combat!, I can tell you that the show, good as it might be, doesn't measure up to either one of those. It's certainly not as gritty as the latter (but then, what series is?), and the entertainment value of the former was just that much bit higher that it allowed one to overlook the implausibility in which both Garrison and Jericho traffic. However, as a devoted fan of Hogan's Heroes, I'm in no position to lecture anyone on plausiblity. Amory himself points out that the the trio might be well-served by going about their jobs displaying a little more grimness and a little less relish. As he concludes, "Fun's fun, boys—but still . . .

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I've had numerous occasion over the years to quote from Richard K. Doan's weekly Doan Report, a valuable source not only of insider stories, but of hard news perspectives on various issues within the industry. This week, while we're still absorbing the debuts from the new season, we get to see the debut of the Doan Report itself! Doan was, in the past, the radio-TV editor of the New York Herald Tribune; now, with the Herald Tribune closed for good as of August, the newspaper industry's loss is TV Guide's gain. And what, pray tell, is the first item on the plate? The ratings for the season's new shows, of course!

The first "definitive" poll of the season is in, that being the Nielsens for October 10, and while the week's top show was a returning favorite—Green Acres—first among the newcomers is ABC's WWII series The Rat Patrol. As for the biggest disappointment, at least in terms of potential, that belongs to the network's Stage 67, which was highly touted at the start of the season but "was so scorned by critic and viewer alike" that it's likely going to be replaced by a Wednesday night movie. The jury's still out on where Stage 67 winds up, and whether it survives as a weekly series or an occasional special. But since a Wednesday night movie requires more than just an hour, that's going to necessitate moving the week's second airing of Peyton Place. Where to? At this point, probably in place of The Man Who Never Was, although Shane and Hawk, two hour-long dramas, are in big trouble already. As for the year's biggest bomb, The Tammy Grimes Show, well, that's already a scratch.

The axe swung quickly at CBS as well, with Jean Arthur's new comedy to leave the air on December 5 after 12 episodes, to be replaced by a prime-time version of To Tell The Truth. And while the network hasn't announced any other casualties yet, "the Smothers Brothers, signed for a new variety hour, had been alerted to stand by for a January debut." Sure enough, when the new year comes around, the Brothers will be sitting in place of the revival of Garry Moore's show. Perhaps the best news for the Tiffany Network applies not to this season, but next Carol Burnett will be returning next fall in a comedy-variety hour, the first woman to helm such a show since Dinah Shore; it's probable she'll be replacing Danny Kaye, who's "experiencing ratings fatigue." 

Meanwhile, all is quiet at NBC; there are no reports of "second season talk," although The Roger Miller Show and The Hero are said to be on tenuous ground. A possible replacement: a long-promised live-action version of Dick Tracy. It's only been 58 years, but we're still waiting.

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President Johnson's tour of Asia takes up some airtime this week, with all three networks providing special programs of the events leading up to the Manila Conference dealing with the Vietnam War. CBS and ABC have reports on Saturday night, while CBS covers the president's arrival in Manila on Sunday (6:30 p.m.), the opening ceremonies of the conference on Tuesday (10:00 p.m.), and a 15-minute special on the conference's close on Thursday. (10:45 p.m.) Meanwhile, NBC plans daily coverage on Today (7:00 a.m.), and ABC, in addition to any special reports, plans to cover the story on the evening news. ABC also has a special, "To Save a Soldier" (Monday, 10:00 p.m.), narrated by Henry Fonda, which looks at the medical evacuation teams working on the battlefields in Vietnam. 

As for the rest of the week, on Sunday, KXTV tours the magnificent collection of Oriental art donated to the city of San Francisco by Avery Brundage; Brundage may be best known to most of you as the head of the International Olympic Committee from 1952 to 1972, a man for whom amateurism in the Olympics was a hill to die on, and one of the most controversial figures in sports in the 20th Century. Tuesday, Truman Capote is one of the guests on David Susskind's program (9:00 p.m., KQED), discussing his life and works, including "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and In Cold Blood. On Wednesday, Tony Bennett stars in his first hour-long special (10:00 p.m., ABC), with trumpeter Bobby Hackett, drummer Buddy Rich, vibraphonist Milt Jackson, Candido on bongos and conga drums, and flutist Paul Horn and his quintet. Bennett also performs with the Ralph Burns orchestra. Thursday sees the conclusion of a two-part Batman adventure (7:30 p.m., ABC) starring Liberace in the dual role of Chandell, the famouns pianist, and his evil twin brother Harry; as I recall, this story pulled in the highest ratings of Batman's run. And on Friday, Swingshif Theatre (1:00 a.m., KNTV in San Jose) presents "Who Killed Julie Greer?," an episode of The Dick Powell Show that served as the pilot for Burke's Law, with Powell himself in the role of our favorite millionaire police detective, Amos Burke.

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On Thursday, one of television's most enduring—and endearing—specials, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown makes its television debut(8:30 p.m., CBS). It's the third of the Peanuts animated specials, after A Charlie Brown Christmas, which aired for the first time last December; and Charlie Brown's All Stars, which premiered in June. 

I think it's safe to say the Great Pumpkin is the second-most popular of all the Peanuts cartoons after A Charlie Brown Christmas, and it's probably also the second-most successful as far as merchandise marketing is concerned. I mean, have any of you gone been in a grocery store in the last month? If so, you've almost certainly seen boxes of pumpkins for sale, and just about every one of those boxes has Charlie Brown, Linus, and Snoopy on the side, sitting in a sincere pumpkin patch, waiting for the Great Pumpkin. And this is 58 years after the cartoon first aired! I've mentioned in the past how Hallmark really cashed in on it at the time, putting out The Peanuts Book of Pumpkin Carols, including the classics "Great Pumpkin is Comin' to Town" and "Pumpkin Bells." (Maybe they still publish it; it's been a while since I've been in a Hallmark store.) Then, of course, there's the legend of Snoopy vs the Red Baron; the storyline had been introduced in the comic strip the previous year and was instantly popular (just ask the Royal Guardsmen); it plays a crucial role in the plot of The Great Pumpkin. We don't do much for Halloween in the Hadley household besides greating trick-or-treaters at the door, but we always make it a point to watch The Great Pumpkin on Halloween night.

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Arthur Schlesinger Jr., John F. Kennedy's house historian and a past contributor to TV Guide, writes this week about the changes television hath wrought in politics. "More and more Americans, it appears, are forming their impressions of the world on the basis of the things they see on the tiny screen," he begins, adding that in 1964 Broadcasting magazine declared that "television had become the 'Nation’s primary news medium.'" (Substitute "social media" for television, and we're probably at the same point.) Some argue that reliance on the medium produces "a more alret and better-informed electorate" while others counter that it is "reducing our politics to a mixture of high-pressure salesmanship and beauty contests." Schlesinger attempts, in this article, to sort through the various claims and evidence and come up with an understanding of where the truth lies.

As far as news is concerned, Schlesinger believes that "the greatest influence in shaping political judgment is stil the reality of events themselves." This is the area in which television has had its most pronounced success; Schlesinger cites television coverage of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearings on Vietnam as a prime example of an event that would not have had the same effect on the public had it not been on television, not only exposing the public to open debate on the issue, but giving viewers "the effect in many cases of heightening the sense of popular participation in public matters." This day-by-day coverage of politics has also made it more difficult for important issues and personalities to fly below the radar, giving the electorate "a larger knowledge of public personalities and a greater acquaintance with public issues."

On the other hand, television has also played a role in what Schlesinger refers to as "pseudo-news"; that is, "the creation of news on the initiative of the medium." That news may be legitimate, even important, but too often it winds up being "mischievous and irresponsible," as in the case where a TV news crew attempted, in the course of an interview, to spur Schlesinger into criticizing President Johnson. Although their efforts failed (and, to the crew's credit, they still aired the interview even without any provocative comments), this kind of interview technique, "designed to lure or trap people into sensational statements they would not otherwise make[,] can be dispensed with."

Schlesinger is less sure about the effect or usefulness of editorialization by news personalities. Frankly, he wonders, it's quite possible that television has a tendency to constrain such commentary. His preference is for panel discussion shows, most frequently seen on public broadcasting or local television. Schlesinger believes these shows "have improved the level of political discussion in part because they permit the suggestion of subtleties and complexities in public problems." Shows of this kind nowadays tend to become either echo chambers or shoutfests—one can only imagine what he'd think of them.

Finally, there's the question of paid political programming. Schlesinger's greatest fear is reserved for what he refers to as the "spot announcement," what we'd call a commercial. The length of political speeches has steadily decreased in the era of mass communication; whereas 60 years ago an audience would travel miles to hear a candidate discourse for a couple of hours on important issues, the coming of radio reduced such speeches to 45 minutes, then a half hour. By 1956, Adlai Stevenson's television advisers said that 15 minutes "represented the outer limit of the attention span of an American audience." Today, even that is too long. The result has "degrad[ed] the level and character of our political discourse" (preach it, Art!), resulting in "the vulgarization of issues, the exaltation of the immediately ingratiating personality and, in general, an orgy of electronic demagoguery." Perhaps the majority of the television audience doesn't want an intelligent discussion of the issues (it doesn't), but doesn't the media have an obligation to provide it for the minority who do? Schlesinger suggests that government subsidies enabling networks to give more time to candidates without losing ad revenue might be a possible solution.

Television has also resulted in an emphasis on style over substance, preferring "the poised, photogenic, otherdirected, manipulable candidate." Presidents such as Adams, Jackson, and Lincoln wouldn't have stood a chance in such an environment. Of course, Schlesinger's former boss, JFK, was among the first politicians to recognize the power and potential of television, and the words "poised" and "photogenic" describe him to a T. Schlesinger doesn't acknowledge that, but he does allow as to how the national grief following Kennedy's assassination was in part "a result of the way television had made him a cherished figure in remote lands." If television would "app[ly] as much as much thought and talent to this as it does to selling detergents," it could play a great role in making "our democracy more rational and responsible." 

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MST3K alert: I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) A psychiatrist's drugs turn a youth into a monster. Michael Landon, Whit Bissell, Yvonne Lime, Tony Marshall. (Saturday, 1:00 a.m., KCRA in Sacramento) "You are not drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s, young man, you’re just not old enough."Michael Landon was two years away from Bonanza when he starred in Werewolf, and he remained a fan of the movie for the rest of his life. "I think it's a good movie. I like it. My kids like it. They better like it, their dad's in it." 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  

Around the dial

Xt the Broadcasting Archives, we start the week with an intriguing look at how The Lucy Show almost wound up breaking new ground in television, and why the show didn't continue with its mildly feminist outlook.

One of my favorite underappreciated shows is The Rogues, about a merry band of con men (Charles Boyer, David Niven, and Gig Young), and at Christmas TV History, Joanna continues her "Christmas in July" series with Boyer making merry in the Yuletide episode "Mr. White's Christmas." 

At Cinema Scholars, it's a look at the spy craze that became the in-thing on American television in the 1960s. It was fun for awhile, but from Batman to The Man from U.N.C.L.E. to Amos Burke, Secret Agent, camp took over and, one by one, many of them sank slowly into the sunset.

Jodie discusses one of the most difficult aspects of Dave Garroway's life at Garroway at Large, one that was also challenging to write about: Garroway's struggle with depression, and his ultimate suicide. This week she writes about how she tried to cover it with sensitivity and discretion.

John's series on The X-Files and the American Dream continues, and while his writeup of the episodes is very good, it's his exploration (as a non-American) of how the dream started out, and what it has become over the years, that adds significant value.

At The View from the Junkyard, we return to the world of The Avengers and "The Danger Makers," a 1966 episode in which we get a glimpse of the difficulties a war veteran has when returning home, and what happens when they try to create some danger for themselves. 

Finally, the website The Hits Just Keep On Comin' celebrates 19—count 'em, 19—years, and as is custom, JB takes a look at some of his favorites from the past year. Congratulations, JB, and I hope you've got 19 more in you! TV  

This week in TV Guide: July 15, 1967

I'd suppose most of you are familiar with Desilu Productions, if for no other reason than the number of times its logo appears at the end of your favorite programs, from The Untouchables to Mission: Impossible to Star Trek—and, of course, the series of sitcoms starring its president and 60-percent owner, Lucille Ball. Desilu has, under Lucy's leadership, become the largest TV-producing facility in the world, and as Dwight Whitney picks up the story, Desilu has become the target of Charles Bluhdorn, owner of the $650 million conglomerate Gulf & Western Industries, who not long ago added Paramount to his financial empire.  

The executive suite which Lucy occupies is oak-paneled, once occupied by Joseph Kennedy and Howard Hughes; she gave it a womanly touch that probably would leave Joe shaking his head. But don't think that this is all fun-and-games for her, one of those adventures that her TV-self might be involved in; since buying out her ex-husband Desi Arnaz in 1962, she's turned a loss of more than $665,000 into a profit of $830,000, and she's shown a deft hand at choosing good advisors ("and having sense enough to listen to them"). She has what Whitney describes as an "almost fanatical" loyalty to her people, and evokes a similar loyalty from them. She agreed with Fred Friendly's recent complaint that CBS chose to air a Lucy rerun rather than vital Vietnam hearings. 

She's also proved to be a strong advocate for the shows her studio produces, including Star Trek, which she championed, and Mission: Impossible, "a show which she had bulled through over strong opposition both from within her own studio and, particularly, from [CBS]." And then there's her own show, which CBS values to the tune of $350,000 annually and which she perennially hangs over the heads of network executives, with the threat that "I have other things I want to do." Her most recent contract with CBS provides "financing for the show at a record $90,000 per half hour, two one-hour CBS-financed Lucy specials, and a deal for future daytime stripping of her present series which [her advisor] estimates will bring in excess of $7,000,000 to Desilu before it is through."

Lucy knows that times are changing in the industry. "A company in TV alone cannot survive today’s market. You have to make 20 pilots to get three. How do you amortize that?" She knows that Bludhorn's offer makes sense—it would give her about $10 million of G&W stock, and it would be arranged to give her a "substantial" capital gain—and it would ease the "ataggering interest burden" on the $3 million she borrowed to buy Desi out. Still, she remains reluctant throughout the process until, impressed by Bludhorn, she agrees to the merger. 

Was it worth it? Many people at Desilu will complain in the future about Paramount's management of the company, how it no longer has the buzz of a family enterprise which it once had, and many of its properties will suffer from penny-pinching and corporate interference. Lucy, following the merger, will found her own new production company, Lucille Ball Productions, which continues to profit from residuals from Here's Lucy. And nobody ever thought twice about the idea of a crazy redhead running a major studio.

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While The Hollywood Palace is on summer break, ABC fills the Saturday night time slot with Piccadilly Palace, a London-based variety show starring the iconic British comedy duo of Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise. We'll stop in from time to time during the summer months to see who has the best lineup..
Sullivan:  Ed's guests in this rerun are Ginger Rogers; singers Johnny Mathis, the Lovin’ Spoonful and Abbe Lane; comics Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, and Bob King; the tumbling Three Kims; and puppet Topo Gigio. 

Piccadilly:  Guests are singer Frankie Avalon and the New Vaudeville Band, with regular Millicent Martin.  Hosts Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise do some wild impressions of Julius Caesar, and Samson and Delilah; and Wise offers an improbable version of Grieg’s Concerto in A Minor. Frankie sings "What Is This Thing Called Love?" and "I Could Write a Book" while the New Vaudevlle Band sings "If I Had a Talking Picture of You" and "Finchley Central." Millicent sings "Window Wishin'"

Piccadilly Palace is just different enough from Ed—the show is centered around the skits of Morecambe and Wise—that the matchups become imprecise. Having said that, I'm no particular fan of either the Lovin' Spoonful or the New Vaudeville Band, and Morecambe and Wise's skits sound ridiculously funny. But Stiller and Meara can be very clever, and with Ginger Rogers and Johnny Mathis, chances are Sullivan takes the week.

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There's a lot of history in this week's programs. Not the kind of history that necessarily shows up in the books, but history all the same. It's something I've stressed since I started this project all these years ago: the idea that TV Guide represents a history book, a pop culture mirror, all kinds of things besides what's on TV tonight.

Here's an example of something that is in the history books, although you might not all be familiar with it. It's the CBS News Special "How Israel Won the War" (Tuesday, 10:00 p.m.), with Mike Wallace leading the look at Israel's devistating victory in what came to be known as the Six-Day War, including interviews with Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Dayan and Army Chief of Staff (and future prime minister) Itzhak Rabin. We've grown used to endless wars, in these last few decades; the idea that a major war could be conducted, and won, in less than a week, is almost hard to imagine. 

Tensions in the Middle East were, then as now, at a heightened level, which came to the boiling point when Egyptian president Nassar closed the Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping, and ordered the UN emergency force out of the area. On June 5, as the UN personel were evacuating, Israel launched a preemptive strike, wiping out Egypt's air defenses and occupying the Sinai Peninsula, the Golan Heights, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip. Jordan and Syria entered the war on Egypt's side, but a ceasefire was agreed to on June 11. There were more than 20,000 Arab casualties, while Israel suffered fewer than 1,000.* The politics, as well as the ramifications from the war, can be debated, but it created a mystique about the efficiency of the Israeli military that would continue for decades. 

*Elsewhere in this issue it is mentioned that Ted Yates, NBC's acclaimed reporter, was killed in Jerusalem during the war.

Next we head ringside, for what's being billed as a "heavyweight elimination fight" between George Chuvalo and Joe Frazier, live from Madison Square Garden in New York (Tuesday, 7:00 p.m., syndicated). This refers to the June 20 decision to strip Muhammad Ali of the heavyweight title after he refused draft induction. (Ali was also sentenced to five years in prison for draft evasion, fined $10,000, and banned from boxing for three years. His conviction was overturned by the Supreme Court in 1971.) 

This "elimination fight" business in the ad is a bit misleading; the World Boxing Association did set up a tournament involving the top eight heavyweights, the winner of which would be their new champion. Frazier, however, declined to take part in the tournament, instead continuing to build up his undefeated record, and Tuesday's fight against Chuvalo will be his toughest test yet, one which he'll pass with flying colors by stopping Chuvalo in a fourth-round TKO. It's likely that the only "elimination" aspect of this fight was that whoever lost was out of the running for the time being. 

In March 1968, Frazier defeats Buster Mathis in the inaugural event at the new Madison Square Garden to win recognizition by the New York State Athletic Commission (and five other states) as its heavyweight champ. Frazier defeats Jimmy Ellis, the winner of the WBA tournament, in February 1970 to win the undisputed championship; he'll retain that title with an epic victory over the reinstated Ali in March 1971.

And then, there's the revolution that wasn't. The supersonic transport—SST—was supposed to be one of the great aviation advancements of the 20th century, revolutionizing transatlantic flight. That it wasn't is a fascinating story in and of itself, but in 1967 the promise of the SST is still alive, if not yet functional, and forms a major thread in "The Aviation Revolution," an NBC News Special reported by Chet Huntley. (Wednesday, 9:00 p.m.) The report looks at the challenges facing commercial aviation, including overcrowding skies, increasing noise pollution, and pressure on designers and builders.

In 1967 the SST is still in the planning stages; the United States, Britain and France, and the Soviet Union are all designing SSTs, with Boeing working on the American version. Controversy continues to dog the plane, though, with concerns about sonic booms and the plane's effect on the ozone layer causing a lengthy and contentious debate that results in Congress killing funding for the SST in 1971, and banning overland commercial supersonic flights over the United States. When the Anglo-French Concorde begins service in the mid-1970s, it's prohibited from flying into New York City, although the ban is eventually overturned. (The Soviet version, the Tupolev Tu-144, began flight in 1975.) Even after environmental concerns are overcome, though, the SST fails to become profitable, and both versions are eventually retired from use. So much for the plane of the future

By the way, here's a footnote for you: In 1967, Boeing was still headquartered in Seattle; when the city was awarded an NBA expansion team (which, ironically, began play in 1967) the team took the name SuperSonics, in tribute to the forthcoming plane. Today, there is no SST, and the Seattle SuperSonics are now the Oklahoma City Thunder. And if you want more irony, the FAA sonic boom tests that so conerned congress were conducted in 1964—in Oklahoma City. 

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Here's some more sports: the final round of the British Open, telecast live via Early Bird satellite from the Royal Liverpool Golf Club in Hoylake (Saturday, 7:30 a.m., ABC). Unlike major tournaments today, which run from Thursday-Sunday, the Open plays from Wednesday through Saturday, with any playoff round held on Sunday; this schedule lasted until 1980. As for the tournament itself, ◀ Roberto De Vicenzo, whom you may remember from the more unfortunate day when a scoring error cost him the Masters, wins the Open by two shots over the defending champion, Jack Nicklaus.

Competition of a different kind: the Miss Universe Pageant, live from Miami Beach (Saturday, 10:00 p.m., CBS; tape-delayed in PT). Bob Barker is the host in the Convention Center, June Lockhart hosts the TV broadcast, and singer Jean-Paul Vignon is the musical guest. The winner is Miss USA, Sylvia Hitchcock from Alabama. This is, incidentally, the first time hosting the Miss Universe Pageant for Barker; he'll host both this and the Miss USA pageant through 1987.

A quartet of notable guest stars appear on Thursday's reruns, starting with Daniel Boone (7:30 pm., NBC), which has Jimmy Dean playing a banjo-strumming woodsman on the lam from a murder charge. At the same time over on CBS, Tallulah Bankhead plays herself as Lucy's new neighbor on The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour; in order to impress her, Lucy tries to talk Fred and Ethel to pose as her maid and butler. Later on, Vincent Price is Count Sforza on F Troop (8:00 p.m., ABC), and the troopers at Fort Courage are convinced that he's a vampire responsible for the disappearance of Wrangler Jane. And finally, Reginald Owen, known to most people here as  Ebenezer Scrooge in the 1938 version of A Christmas Carol, guests on Bewitched (8:30 p.m., ABC) as Aunt Clara's boyfriend, Ocky, and he comes along just in time: Clara has just blacked out the entire Eastern Seaboard.

Friday night features a couple of classics on local TV. First, on KHSL in Chico, it's the chilling Twilight Zone episode "It's a Good Life" (7:00 p.m.), in which ►Billy Mumy casts anyone who makes him angry into the cornfield. Later, it's the supurb Twelve Angry Men (9:00 p.m., KXTV in Sacramento), with Henry Fonda single-handedly holding up the dignity of the judicial system. Interesting to note that the description refers to it as "an adaptation of Reginald Rose's TV classic"; for many years, the TV version, which appeared on Studio One and starred Robert Cummings in the Fonda role, was thought lost; it's since been recovered, but I'd imagine that nowadays very few people know about it and think only of the movie version. Personally, I think you could make a case that Cummings dones a better job than Fonda, but that's just me.

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On Coronet Blue (Monday, 10:00 p.m., CBS), Denholm Elliott and Juliet Mills guest star in a story that features Alden (Frank Converse) caught between a fugitive revolutionary and the gunmen out to get him. Coronet Blue has been the surprise hit of the summer season—but Richard K. Doan warns its fans that they'd better "prepare themselves to be left dangling." You see, the program, which was approved by Jim Aubrey (one of his "last ventures before his fall as CBS-TV czar") for the 1965-66 season. After Aubrey was bounced, his successor, Jack Schneider, "thought it a poor show and shelved it." However, producer Herbert Brodkin, who had a firm contract with the network for 13 shows, went ahead and shot them. This year, CBS decided to burn off the series in order to recoup some of its investment, and scheduled 11 of the 13 episodes for the summer. Without, of course, an explanation of the cryptic storyline. (Even if CBS wanted to continue the show, star Converse had already moved on (no pun intended) to N.Y.P.D. on ABC.) 

I'm sure many, if not most, of you are familiar with the Coronet Blue debacle, but here's an excellent article at Television Obscurities that goes into detail, including how the mystery was supposed to e wrapped up. You can see it on DVD, and while it may not live up to its mythic status, it's still fun.

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MST3K alert: Teen-Age Crime Wave (1955). Three dangerous juvenile delinquents take refuge in the home of a farmer and his family. Tommy Cook, Mollie McCart, Sue England. (Thursday, 3:300 p.m., KHSL) Let's see, so far we've had Teen-Age Caveman, Teen-Age Strangler, and Teenagers From Outer Space, so I suppose this would be the natural succession. Our three stars are the three teens holding the family hostage, but of course one of them has to be the weak link, allowing the plot to fail. Well, what did you expect—In Cold Blood? And if those actors are teenagers, then I'm Truman Capote. TV