You all know by now that Nero Wolfe is a favorite in the Hadley household, both in written form and in the legendary A&E series with Maury Chaykin as Nero Wolfe and Timothy Hutton as Archie Goodwin. There was another Wolfe series, in 1981, with William Conrad and Lee Horsley doing the honors; that one's fun enough, I suppose, but it never really did it for me. But did you know we might well have had yet another Nero Wolfe series?
Back a few years ago I mentioned an item in a 1959 TV Guide issue about a pilot being shot, with Kurt Kasznar playing Wolfe and William Shatner in the role of Archie. At the time, I remarked how I'd like to see that sometime, but the pilot was thought lost. No longer, though; a couple of months ago at Lee Goldberg's YouTube channel, what should pop up but the original pilot, in a very clear print, for all to see!
So what did you think? Comparing it to other versions, it does very well. It's certainly better than the radio adaptation with Sydney Greenstreet; he plays Wolfe a little too avuncular, as if he were channeling Kasper Gutman from The Maltese Falcon. It's also superior to the Conrad version; had Conrad played Wolfe with a little less of Frank Cannon's good humor (perhaps a little more like the hitman he played in The Killers), it would have been better. And of course, Horsley falls far short of the Archie Goodwin standard set by Timothy Hutton.
But this is actually a pretty fair adaptation, and while Kasznar hits the right notes (especially the accent; Wolfe, after all, is from Montenegro), it's our old friend William Shatner who who is a pleasant surprise. After watching him, it dawned on me that Archie is really James T. Kirk in a suit and tie. I mean, look at the smirk in that picture under the header. Doesn't that look just like Kirk after he's pulled a fast one on the Klingons? While Shatner did have the tendency to talk a little too quickly, there was none of Kirk's mannered emoting that we sometimes have fun with—just a same kind of smartass cockiness that describes Archie to a T. It's nice to know Kirk would have had something to fall back on if the Starship thing didn't work out.
It's hard to tell if the quality would have remained over the course of an entire season; while the script picks up many of the mannerisms that distinguish the characters in print, it's also true that the pilot often hits marks that a subsequent series struggles to match. I would have liked to have seen it, though—even a single season would have been well worth it. Pfui! TV
Idon't know about you, but it seems to me as if it's been a very long week, and now that it's Friday it's time for a little anticipatory celebration. Let's see what's out there to keep us amused on the way.
The Week reports that the boom in scripted TV shows - there are more than 500 now, including nearly 100 on streaming services such as Amazon and Netflix - has resulted in an unexpected byproduct: increased opportunities for bad actors. "Thanks to our unflagging thirst for new shows, more shows, better shows, any shows, the so-called golden age of TV is dissolving into a new golden age of bad acting."
"The Dummy," from season three of The Twilight Zone, has a shock ending that even after all these years packs a punch. Jordan takes a closer inspection at The Twilight Zone Vortex, along with a fascinating look at the history of ventriloquismas as a plot device. Very interesting.
With temperatures in the 20s here in lovely Minneapolis, I can't help but get into the Christmas spirit, and at Christmas TV History Joanna lets you know where you can find her detailed discussions on Christmas entertainment. She's unquestionably one of the very best sources of information on how television covers this magical season.
When it comes to continuing the classic television tradition, one of the challenges us classic TV fans face as we age is how to introduce this most pleasing hobby to others. As David points out at Comfort TV, there's definately a right way and wrong way to do this, so take his advice and find out how to spread the joy around.
I'm always delighted when Jack pops up with another of his Hitchcock Project pieces at bare-bones e-zine, and this week he continues his look at the scripts of Francis and Marian Cockrell with the season one story "You Got to Have Luck." I've seen most of the first four seasons of Hitchcock, and it's always fun to read about an episode you saw a long time ago, and wait for the bell to ring.
The Land of Whatever reviews the 1979 Nero Wolfe telefilm, made by Burke's Law honcho Frank Gilroy, with Thayer David as Wolfe. I confess no familiarity with this movie, but as much of an admirer as I am of the rotund detective, this told me everything I needed to know about the movie: "David effected a serviceable mimic of Sydney Greenstreet, who starred as Wolfe on radio, but Gilroy's preference to make Wolfe more like [Amos] Burke, or any other romantic sleuth, wasn't the brightest of ideas." No kidding!
Television Obscurities introduces us to another of TV's nearly-forgotten shows, Eye Witness, which aired on New York's WNBT between 1947 and 1948. You can even see an episode of the program - and isn't it remarkable to think of a television show being 70 years old? Or does that just show how old I am?
And at Those Were the Days, don't miss a terrific photo featuring some of television's most famous cowboys, circa 1957: Clint Walker as Cheyenne Bodie, James Arness as Matt Dillon, Richard Boone as Palladin, Robert Horton as Flint McCullough, James Garner as Bret Maverick and John Payne as Vint Bonner. Wow!
That should whet your appetite until tomorrow, and you won't want to miss the TV Guide I've got in store for you. TV
No look around last week, so we've got plenty of catching up to do, starting with Fire Breathing Dimetroden Time's recollection of one of television's most charming and delightful mystery series, A&E's Nero Wolfe, starring Timothy Hutton and the late Maury Chaykin. It's on my top ten list and, unlike some programs, isn't apt to fall off; how right they are that this was the last show worth watching on A&E.
Speaking of Doctor Who - and yes, I'll probably keep sniping at it - at Steyn Online, the cultural critic Mark Steyn has this to say about the selection of Jodie Whittaker as the first female Doctor: "[M]y choice would have been a CGI Patrick Troughton, so what do I know? But I do regard this sort of thing as, to coin a phrase, cultural appropriation - in the sense that what our age mostly does is appropriate the cultural creations of greater talents and make them into something other." What that something other is - among other things, according to Steyn - is "making [the public's] most beloved characters something other than what they're beloved as." As always, read the whole thing.
The Broadcasting Archives at the University of Maryland linked to this article at Variety, one of the many tributes to June Foray, most famously the voice of Rocky the Flying Squirrel, who died last week at 99. She played countless other voices, of course, including that same show's Natasha Fatale, but I think most of us will remember her as the plucky hero of Frostbite Falls, Minnesota, who helped fight for truth, justice, and the American way - or something like that.
At The Twilight Zone Vortex, it's the McCarthy-era story "Four O'Clock," an example of one of Rod Serling's more heavy-handed treatments that might actually have a far different meaning today if someone wanted to tackle an adaptation. As Jordan writes, a potentially provocative piece can't really hold up under all that weight, and it does waste the talent of an always interesting Theodore Bikel, but I wouldn't necessarily avoid watching it.
Remember Sugar Bear? David Hofstede does, and so do I. But I don't remember The Sugar Bears, the music group based on the cereal-plugging character - or at least I don't without the kind of prodding provided by this latest piece at Comfort TV. Who knew that two of the members involved in the writing and/or vocals were Mike Settle and Kim
Carnes? It's kind of like finding out that Phil Collins was the voice of Alvin the chipmunk.
If you weren't following Joanna Wilson's wonderful Christmas in July over at Christmas TV History, now's your chance to catch up with this recap of a wonderful month of Christmas memories, including some from yours truly.
"It is like the final series of The Avengers on LSD, crossed with Adam Adamant, The Champions, and Department S." Now if that isn't enough to get your attention, I don't know what is. The series in question is The Secret Service, the final Supermarionation series from Gerry Anderson, and the subject of this week's piece at Cult TV Blog.
From The Land of Whatever, it's a real rarity that you'll want to listen to: the radio version of What's My Line?Of course, back in the '50s programs shared radio and television space all the time, but we don't think of WML? in that vein, probably for a very good reason: "Sign in, please." Listen in, and see how they work that out.
The Classic TV History Blog is back with "Freiberger's Last Word," which is not the title of an episode, but a very interesting behind the scenes look at how a line with roots from Star Trek found its way into an episode of Ironside, and what it all meant. I love reading about this kind of stuff!
Dave Garroway, the original host of Today, is an interesting, tragic figure in the history of early television, and at The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew shares a clip from Garroway at Large, the Chicago-based program that launched Garroway on his path to stardom. It's interesting not just because of the look at early Garroway, but because it reminds us yet again of how in television's infancy, local stations were the birthing grounds for national stars. Of course, you have to have local programs to do that, and nowadays I suppose the internet performs that function.
At Television's New Frontier: the 1960s, the year is 1961, and the show is Laramie, the Western series starring Robert Fuller and John Smith. It's a series I've never really paid much mind to, other than acknowledging the fact that it was there, and through no fault of this writeup, my mind isn't much changed. TV
Each week for the next couple of months, I’ll profile one of the series that appear on my personal Top Ten list. I don’t claim that these are the ten greatest series of all time; that would be presumptuous. However, I do presume to identify those shows that mean the most to me.
These aren’t academic histories or encyclopedic entries; rather, they’re personal memories of shows that, through the years, have brought me delight, influenced my way of thinking and doing, left their indelible traces imprinted on me. Think of it as a memoir of my life as seen on TV.
I’ve probably mentioned this before, this annoying reluctance I have to watch a TV show that’s been recommended to me. Generally I watch it only if I have to (i.e. with the recommender sitting next to me), with an anticipation not of the show itself but of it ending. And, more often than not, I wind up enjoying the show immensely. Which doesn’t stop me from repeating the same pattern with the next recommendation.
There are shows I’ve tried and never gotten into: The X-Files was recommended to me early in its run, but I never made much of an attempt. Many people have suggested Mad Men, which, as I’ve noted before, may happen someday – but not today. There are others, which I’ve probably forgotten about.
And then there are shows like Nero Wolfe.
I’d noticed the series’ debut back in 2000, but it didn’t particularly appeal to me at the time. I knew who Nero Wolfe was, and what the stories were about. I’d never read one of the books, but I had seen some of the 80s version that starred William Conrad and Lee Horsley – and that wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. Maybe it was the commercial that A&E ran for the new series, which as it turned out, didn’t present a particularly accurate picture of the overall show. It might have been because of Timothy Hutton, whom I didn’t particularly like at the time (probably having to do with his politics).
So when my friend Gary told me how much he and his wife enjoyed the show, I was skeptical. We’re known to have fairly dramatic differences in our programming tastes – Barney Miller and Desperate Housewives were never considered must-see TV in our household.* But, knowing Gary as I do, I realized the subject would continue to come up until and unless we gave it a try, so that Sunday night we put aside whatever else we might have watched and tuned in to Nero Wolfe. We’ll at least give it a try, we thought.
*Though, it should be said, it was Gary who introduced us to A Christmas Story and Going My Way, two movies we’d never seen before but which became Christmas staples for us, which makes my reluctance regarding Nero Wolfe even less understandable.
The fact that the show appears on this list is evidence of how the experiment turned out.
There are many who blame television for the decrease in literacy, but Nero Wolfe is one of the few television shows around – Perry Mason is another – that caused me to go out and buy the books to read the original stories. (All the episodes in the show’s two-season run were based on Rex Stout’s novels and short stories, rather than being original stories as is the case with so many series.) The pleasure I’ve derived since from reading the Wolfe mysteries would have been reward enough, regardless of the merit of the show, but to say that I’ve enjoyed the show every bit as much as the books should be seen as putting the show on a high plane indeed.
Start with the casting: Timothy Hutton, as Archie Goodwin. Or rather, Timothy Hutton is Archie Goodwin. Wolfe’s legman is so finely brought to life in Stout’s writing that it is difficult to imagine how anyone could possibly capture him in a series, especially since Horsley’s portrayal fell far short of the mark. And yet, having seen Hutton embody Archie so thoroughly, it has now become impossible to read the books without hearing Hutton’s voice as the narrator. He has style to spare, along with a strut and an attitude for which I’d readily kill. Let's face it - his Archie Goodwin is who I want to be when I grow up. There is, simply, nothing lacking in the character. It comes as no surprise that Hutton was heavily involved in the creation and production of Wolfe, as well as directing several episodes – the love he has for this project appears in every frame of film.
Nor is there anything lacking in the late Maury Chaykin’s performance as the arrogant, irascible genius Wolfe. Bill Conrad might have been able to capture Wolfe’s gruffness, but never his nimble mind, the quickness with which he connected the dots, the outrage (feigned or real) present in his battles with his nemesis, Inspector Cramer, and his utter disdain for the people he questions - often including his own client. "Either, sir, you're an ass or you're masquerading as one" - well, that's a pretty typical line. And I love the idea, prevalent in so many of the stories, that Wolfe is personally offended by the criminal who dares to presume that not even the great Nero Wolfe can catch him ("He's taunting me! I will not have anyone taunting me!") and he winds up investigating out of sheer spite - or vanity.
Put Wolfe and Archie together, and they often bicker like an old married couple. One of Archie's jobs is to "provoke" Wolfe into action. If Wolfe had his way, he'd never do anything more strenuous than press the button for Fritz to bring him beer - but there are those bills to pay, such as the salaries for Archie, Fritz and Theodore, the keeper of Wolfe's thousands of orchids. That takes money, and when the bank balance runs too low, it's up to Archie to goad Wolfe into taking an assignment. Their frequent arguments hide a deep respect and even affection between the two; Archie is second to none at investigating and amassing evidence, and Wolfe unparalleled at putting the pieces together, often through the most brilliant use of logic and deduction this side of Sherlock Holmes. There can be no question that Wolfe and Archie are two of the greatest characters in the history of mystery fiction, and Hutton and Chaykin are two of the greatest duos in the recent history of TV.
Add to that a superior supporting cast – Bill Smitrovich as Cramer, Colin Fox as Fritz Brenner, Wolfe’s major domo, Saul Rubinek as newspaperman Lon Cohen, and Conrad Dunn as the freelance detective Saul Panzer – and a repertory group of secondary players, from George Plimpton to the luscious Kari Matchett, and source material far above that used by the average series, and you have the recipe for television greatness.
Unfortunately, in A&E’s efforts to reshape itself as a storehouse for second-rate reality-based crap, there wasn’t room for high-budget period pieces like Wolfe, and after only two seasons the show left the air. With Chaykin’s death, any kind of reunion is pretty much impossible, so between the 20 episodes and the 47 Wolfe books written by Stout, what you see is what you get.
Ah, but for those who check out Nero Wolfe on DVD, what you get is priceless – an intelligent, literate series, with nearly perfect period details, a topflight cast, clever mysteries, and characters you like and care about. It might even cause you to check out the books if you haven’t already; unlike so many movies and TV shows, you won’t be disappointed by the comparison between the two. Even though I’ve seen every Wolfe episode at least twice, I’ve still got a ways to go on the books, so there’s that to look forward to.
Nero Wolfe is the shortest-lived series on my top 10 list, but this is one of those cases where size isn’t everything.
