This week in TV Guide: August 7, 1954

Some years ago, an author whose work I otherwise respect—which is why I'm not naming him here—tossed off what I'm sure he considered an amusing bon mot about Orson Bean, to wit that he was a game show panelist known primarily for being known. It was an ignorant statement, which just goes to show the dangers involved in stepping outside your field of expertise without adequate preparation, but, as is often the case, it also offers the opportunity for correction, to write a wrong. Not that he's likely to be reading this, but it might be helpful in any event to set the record straight on Orson Bean.

Bean is hosting Blue Angel, the summer replacement series for Edward R. Murrow's See It Now, and to give things an authentic feel, the set is a recreation of the famed Blue Angel nightclub, where Bean made his breakthrough three years ago as a 21-year-old purveyor of sophisticated stand-up comedy. Originally from Vermont (and named Dallas Burrows), Bean took his first crack at show business in 1948 after leaving the Army. He started out as a magician, but transitioned into comedy, living "on peanut butter and crackers between jobs" before walking into the Blue Angel and convincing the owner that he was funny enough to be hired. 

Since then, he's appeared in several television shows, and made his Broadway debut in "Almanac." He feels that his greatest success, though, "has been in winning recognition from the folks Down East who never had much faith in my theatrical ambition." He's hoping for his own sitcom someday, and in the meantime he's taking lessons in singing, dancing, and acting, and teaching himself to juggle, a skill that will come in handy in future years.

For this isn't the end of Orson Bean's story, not by a long shot. He continued to appear on Broadway, starring in the original cast of Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? and later receiving a Tony nomination for Subways Are for Sleeping. He guested frequently on television, was a regular on Dr. Quinn, and became a mainstay on, yes, game shows, including I've Got a Secret and To Tell the Truth. He was a gifted storyteller, graceful and self-effacing, which won him a chair on all the talk shows of the day. He voiced Bilbo Baggins in the animated The Hobbit, and Frodo in the sequel Return of the King. And he remained an active actor until his untimely death in 2020 at age 91 after being hit by a car.

What bemused him in his last years of life was, he said, his status as one of the few celebrities to be blacklisted not once but twice, first by the right and then by the left. He was blacklisted in the mid-1950s "because I had a cute communist girlfriend," and went a year without appearing on television, before Ed Sullivan welcomed him back to his show. Later in life, he found hmself on the outs with the Hollywood left after he became an outspoken conservative; Bean's daughter married pundit Andrew Breitbart, and Bean converted Breitbart from liberalism to conservatism.  

Orson Bean was known for being an actor, a comedian, a voice artist, a raconteur, an a writer. The idea of being famous for being famous wouldn't have bothered him (he himself used the line, and said he was a "neocelebrity"), but if you only knew of him because you recognized his name, it was your loss.

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Back before Instagram and Twitter and Facebook, before message boards, even before the Internet, there were things called "fan clubs." You'd generally join these clubs by sending your name and address through something called the "U.S. Mail," and in return you'd get a membership card, perhaps an autographed picture, and an occasional newsletter, all done by enthusiastic volunteers, often teens. And for all that, you became part of a following, one designed to "help fan an entertainer’s career to a flame so white-hot that he and his whole family can bask in its glow for years."

Perry Como with some of his adoring fans   

The times may have changed, and the methods adapted to current technology, but the importance of fans hasn't changed. For as this week's article says, "[T]he fans are the ones who buy most of their favorite’s recordings; come out in droves for any personal appearance; build TV ratings by tuning in faithfully to the star’s program; deluge their local disc jockeys with requests for his records and generally promote the wealth and welfare of the stars." 

Most fan clubs are not national organizations, but are local or regional; there are more than 2,000 devoted to Perry Como, for instance, not only in this country but around the world. Singer Eddie Fisher has a similar number (I wonder if Elizabeth Taylor belonged to any of them?), and even writer Paddy Chayefsky has one. And while stars may "pretend dismay," they know that their fans are what help keep them in the bread and butter. A group of Jimmy Durante's fans collared him at the track one day; he was hoping they had some hot tips, but they were only there to pitch some gags. Jerry Lewis "once embarked on an hour-long tirade against his sponsor and ad agency executives because they weren’t alloting him enough tickets for his fans. Lewis’ position: they lead the studio laughter." Como offers some of his fans haircuts on their birthdays; Como, as you may remember, was a barber before he hit stardom.

Although the means change, fandom, and its importance, remains the same today, and it's a foolish celebrity that risks antagonizing them, don't you think?

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It's called "The Dream Mile," and it may well be the sporting event of the year. On Saturday afternoon, the only two human beings ever to have run a mile in less than four minutes will meet, along with several other runners, in the British Empire Games, from Vancouver, B.C. The CBC is covering the race live, with the signal traveling from Vancouver to Seattle, where it will then be picked up by NBC and relayed throughout the United States, starting at 4:00 p.m. CT.

It's difficult to really explain just how big this is; for decades, the four-minute mile (from an era when the metric system hasn't completely taken hold) has been the holy grail of sports; a barrier which seemed as impenetrable as the sound barrier once was. Studies have been conducted, techniques have been discussed, and tactics have been employed, all in an effort to break a barrier that some scientists thought was a human impossibility. When it became clear that it could, and would, be done, runners engaged in a battle to see who would be first. Roger Bannister ensured hs name would go down in history by becoming the first, with a 3:59.4 mile on May 6; that was then broken by John "Jack" Landy, who broke Bannister's record with a 3:57.9 less than two months later, on June 21. 

The world's media is focused on the outcome; as Landy would say in 2015, "The four-minute mile was something that even people who weren’t interested in athletics could understand and this fascination had built up." And now, with 35,000, including Prince Philip in attendence, the two will meet head-to-head, with several other runners, to settle the score. And while you might think that nothing could ever live up to that buildup, you'd be wrong. Landy leads throughout most of the race, but Bannister begins to reel him in during the final lap; in the final turn, Landy looks to the left to see where Bannister is, while Bannister passes him on the right, winning the race in a non-record but second-fastest-ever time of 3:58.8; Landy finishs in 3:59.6, the first time two runners have ever broken four minutes in the same race; a statue is later erected in Vancouver to mark the occasion of the race. You can see exactly how the sporting event of the year unfolded here. 

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Today, the cover headline might read, "Godfrey Snaps Back at Fake News." Seems like people are always complaining about that, aren't they? As to the source of Godfrey's ire, well, when you spend as much of your life in the public eye as he does, you're bound to run into controversy, and as is so often the case, once it does, things just begin to snowball.

For the Old Redhead, his downfall probably began with his on-air sacking of Julius LaRosa last October, and since then things have gone downhill: rumors that he was disappointed in singer Marion Marlowe over several issues including her "choice of dating partners" and refusal to take orders; rumors that he was unhappy with Lu Ann Simms because of her recent marriage possibly disrupting the show's schedule; an on-air announcement that he'd fired a member of his crew for drunkeness; and the fall of both of his primetime programs out of the top 10 in the ratings. Because of this, he's agreed to an exclusive interview with TV Guide's Bob Stahl to try and set the record straight.

Asked by Stahl why the press seems to be out to get him, Godfrey blames it on "a dearth of any good news, so they turn to me. That’s why all this stuff starts. But none of it is true in any way and I’m hanged if I’ll get caught in the middle of it." He's denied he's planning on firing any of his cast members, but refuses to comment on whether or not he plans on hiring any new ones, including the young singer Grace Bumbry, who'd wowed audiences on Talent Scounts a few months ago. "But I talked with her then and we agreed she should finish her college courses before we do anything. I told her to come to see me as soon as she finishes school." (Bumbry goes on to a legendary career in the opera house, winning the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions, becoming the first black singer to appear at the legendary Bayreuth Festival in Germany, performing at the Met for decades, singing at several presidental inaugurations, and eventually retiring as one of the greatest singers of her time.)

He dismisses the idea that he was angered by Simms's marriage; "I don’t give a hoot who they (meaning all the girls on his show) are in love with, who they marry, who they divorce . . ." And he's adamant that he has no plans to retire, and will be on all next season, "the Good Lord willing." Stahl notes, though, that amidst the declining ratings for he show, it may well be that he'll require a change of format, as stars such as Milton Berle have had to do, in an attempt to recover. In any case, Godfrey does wind up firing Marlowe and Simms in 1955; Talent Scouts leaves the air in 1958, while Arthur Godfrey and His Friends hangs on for another season; his daily radio program lasts until 1972, but he never completely regains the hold he once had on America. 

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We've already seen the sports event of the week, but what else is on? 

Ed Sullivan is on vacation this week, so Victor Borge stands in for him on Toast of the Town (Sunday, 7:00 p.m. ET, CBS), with guests Audrey Meadows, Jack Whiting, singer Mary Small, and acrobat-muicians Les Charlivels.. Sullivan will have several guest hosts over the years (including Charles Laughton, who subs on September 9, 1956 after Sullivan's near-fatal automobile accident—the night Elvis makes his Sullivan debut) but since Borge himself is a performer, you have to imagine he does a couple of pieces; it probably gives the show a feel more like the Colgate Comedy Hour, where the host is also the star. And speaking of that, the Summer Comedy Hour (7:00 p.m., NBC) has the Will Mastin Trio featuring Sammy Davis Jr. as the headliner, with the Gaylords vocal trio and pantomime comic Gene Sheldon. I'll have to go with the Comedy Hour on this one.  

Top Plays of 1954 presents a grim story; "Wonderful Day for a Wedding" (Tuesday, 8:30 p.m., NBC), and I wonder just how top a play it is, since I can find very little about it online. After a bride changes her mind at the last minute, a "sultry next-door neighbor" consoles the jilted groom-to-be. Joan Leslie, Scott Brady, and Rita Moreno star; what do you want to bet that Rita is the sultry neighbor? Sounds like a nice day for a white wedding, doesn't it?

Celebrities were not always the stars of This Is Your Life (Wednesday, 9:00 p.m., NBC); in the early years of the show, the lives were often those of ordinary people who'd experienced extraordinary situations. Case in point is this week, when the honoree is Emma-Jo Wengert, a woman who was freed from Nevada State Prison as a result of Erle Stanley Gardner's Court of Last Resort, which proved she had been convicted of a crime she didn't commit. Some of the cases of the Court were dramatized in a series on NBC in 1957-58, but here we get an example of the real thing.

While this may not have the impact of the Dream Mile, the other major event in sports this week is Wednesday's world lightheavyweight championship fight between the ageless one, champion Archie Moore, and challenger Harold Johnson, live from Madison Square Garden (9:00 p.m., CBS). Moore, who admits to 37 but was actually 41, wins in a 14th round knockout; he's nowhere near done, though, as he still has two heavyweight title challenges in front of him, and remains lightheavyweight champion until 1962. Ah, longetivity.

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The popular duo sing "Love Is the Reason"
No wonder people are so confused!

The Quiz Show Scandal has often been pointed to as when television lost its innocence. Now, I don't know whether or not that's true, but contemporary minds look back at it and frequently wonder how Americans could have been so naive as to buy into what they were seeing on TV. If you had any questions about that, though, this might help dispell them. A letter-writer from Waukeegan—I'm not naming this person either, although I can assure you it's not the same person in the Orson Bean story—says, "I watch the Garry Moore show frequently and would like to know if Ken Carson and Denise Lor are married. They always act like it when they sing together."

Well, it's called acting. Just like James Garner and Mariette Hartley were acting all those years when they were doing those Polaroid commercials together, and everyone wondered if they were married. Now, it's true that some actors are more natural than others, and some pairings have a chemistry that just works. But I'm reminded of an exchange from Doctor Who, when Romana expresses surprise that Tom Baker's Fourth Doctor doesn't believe someone's story. "But he had such an honest face," she says, to which The Doctor replies, "Romana, you can't be a successful crook with a dishonest face, can you?" So maybe none of these things surprise me after all.

Oh, and by the way, Ken Carson and Denise Lor are not married, at least not to each other. Says the editor, it's just good acting.

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MST3K alert: Rocketship X-M (1950) Scientists prepare for a trip to Mars via rocketship. Lloyd Bridges and Osa Massen. (Wednesday, 10:00 p.m., WGN) The brief description doesn't really do this movie justice; the crew is supposed to be making the first trip to the moon, but due to an engine malfunction, they wind up on Mars instead. (Don't ask.) It also marks the debut of TV's Frank (Conniff) and Kevin Murphy as the new voice of Tom Servo, so for that we should always be grateful. The rest of it will leave your lungs aching for air. TV  

Around the dial

We’ll start off this week with a shameless self-promotion for the latest episode of Eventually Supertrain, in which I join Dan Budnick to discuss our favorite topic of conversation, Bourbon Street Beat, And don’t miss Dan and Amanda talking about Masquerade—plus a surprise!

Speaking of podcasts, Ed Robertson’s TV Confidential is always recommended, and in his latest episode, he welcomes actress and director Michelle Danner, and pays tribute to Robert Conrad and Kirk Douglas.

Jodie returns to Garroway at Large with video links to a 1962 science series that Dave Garroway hosted for NET after having left Today. Titled “Exploring the Universe,” it’s further proof of the relentlessly inquisitive and eclectic Garroway, and it comes to us courtesy of the American Archive of Public Broadcasting, which has a growing collection of programs dating back to the early days of national educational television.

“Of Late I Think of Cliffordsville” is the episode up for review at The Twilight Zone Vortex, and as Jordan tells us, it’s another one of those nasty time-travel stories that reminds us the past is seldom the way we remember it. Oh, and did I mention that it also features the Devil? Take it from me, this is not going to turn out well.

On Wednesday I wrote of Orson Bean, who died last week; Inner Toob shares a retrospective of Bean as well (and how could I have failed to mention his memorable performance as Mr. Bevis in The Twilight Zone?), along with some personal remembrances. And while you’re at it, check out A Shroud of Thoughts for Terence’s wonderful look at Bean’s career. Bean once said that he was someone famous simply for being famous, which as Terence says, is far from the truth. It’s clear that Bean’s career touched a great many people

At Cult TV, John dips into the world of Monty Python with “The War Against Pornography,” an episode that demonstrates how even (especially?) comedy can give us a shrewd (and hilarious) insight into the times from which it comes. Now that I think about it, “especially” is probably the right word.

We all have things in life that give us great pleasure, although we’d be hard-pressed to say why. In the case of our friend David at Comfort TV, it’s the 1977 series Magic Mongo, a production of Sid and Marty Krofft. I have no memory whatsoever of this show, which I’m perfectly willing to blame on the World’s Worst Town™.

The Hitchcock Project continues at bare•bones e-zine, and this week Jack takes us to the sixth Hitchcock episode written by Sterling Silliphant, “The Canary Sedan,” with Jessica Tandy and Murray Matheson. As always, it’s fascinating to find out how the scriptwriter adapts a short story into a teleplay—what he adds and subtracts, alters or changes outright, and the effect it has on the story. TV  

Orson Bean / Robert Conrad, R.I.P.

Orson Bean used to talk about how he was one of the few entertainers who'd been blacklisted by both sides; in the Fifties, it was for being a communist ("I wasn't a communist. I was horny for a communist girl and she dragged me to a couple of meetings."), while in the 2000s it was for being a conservative ("It’s harder now to be an open conservative on a Hollywood set than it was back then to be a Communist," he once told his son-in-law, Andrew Breitbart). He might have been bitter about it, but he seemed more amused than anything.

Several years ago, someone wrote of Orson Bean that "I never could figure out who the guy was, So far as I knew, he never had done anything of note. He was on the show because he was a celebrity, and he was a celebrity because he was on the show. . . He was the compleat artificial man." Not only was this needlessly cruel, it was completely false. Bean had been a fixture in clubs and on Broadway since the Fifties; he starred on Broadway in Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter with Jayne Mansfield, and was nominated for a Tony for Subways Are for Sleeping. He appeared at the famous New York club The Blue Angel on a bill with Nichols and May, Harry Belafonte, and Eartha Kitt, and he recorded a comedy album at another famous club, The Hungry I. He counted as friends everyone from Lenny Bruce to Jonathan Winters to Henry Fonda, appeared in series such as The Twilight Zone, Studio One, The Love Boat, One Life to Live, and Murder, She Wrote, and displayed his skills as a raconteur on The Tonight Show, both with Jack Paar and Johnny Carson. (He subbed as host for Carson more than 100 times.) He played the voice of Bilbo Baggins in Rankin-Bass' animated version of The Hobbit, and Frodo in the sequel, The Return of the King, and was a regular on Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. All that, and he still had time back home in California to do community theater. I wish I'd been so artificial.

(By the way, I didn't name the person who wrote that, but I know who it was. I don't see any point in giving that person any publicity, even if it comes from being an idiot. I will tell you that it was not someone who writes regularly about television, which just goes to show you shouldn't dabble in things you don't know anything about.)

Unquestionably, what he was best known for—the show that our unnamed critic refers to—was his many years as panelist on To Tell the Truth. He was smart and witty, urbane and good-natured, a humorous and warm presence on the show ("Elegant Kitty Carlisle on my right with a feather boa. Peggy Cass on the other side."), and drew funny little cartoons on the card each panelist used to indicate who they thought was "telling the truth."

I'm usually saddened by the death of someone I've watched and liked, as you'll see below, but when I heard that Orson Bean had died as the result of being hit by a car, I was a bit stunned as well. Yes, he was 91, and yes, it was unexpected, but it affected me in a way that most of these celebrity deaths don't. For years I'd and listened to him talk, not only about Hollywood and show business, but about how he'd found God, how he'd moved politically from the left to the right (like Ronald Reagan, he'd insist that he didn't leave the Democratic party, but it left him). He was one of those people about whom you say that the world seems just a little better place with him around, and it saddens me that he isn't, and that his death seems so needless.

I don't know if that's how he'd want to be remembered, though, so I'll leave you with a couple of fascinating stories. One occurred while he was performing at The Blue Angel in the 50s: "A guy named Bud Howard introduced the acts and played the piano in between. One day I came in early and he said, 'Listen to this song I knocked off.' He played Fly Me to the Moon. I said, 'That's great, but what are you going to do with it?'" (Give it to Frank, natch.) The other concerns his son-in-law Andrew Breitbart who, like Bean, started out on the political left. One night, Breitbart noticed a book by Rush Limbaugh in Bean's bookcase.  "Why in the world would you have a book written by some fascist right-winger on your bookshelf that anybody could see?" Breitbart asked him. Bean replied, "Andrew, take that book and read it. Just read it." The rest is history, and there's no political point that I'm making here; it's just quite a story, from a man who lived quite a life.

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The one and only time I saw Robert Conrad in person was at the 2018 Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention. He was in poor health then, a shadow of the robust, charismatic James West, and if that was the Robert Conrad you’d come to see, then you were asking for disappointment. Or maybe not.

See, the thing about James West was that no matter what megalomaniacal villain he confronted, no matter what fantastic plot for world domination he foiled, no matter what outrageous steampunk invention he faced, he knew that to fail was not an option. That requires a kind of inner determination, a resolve that (with apologies to Paul McCartney) when you’ve got a job to do, you’ve got to do it well* or you die trying. There is no in-between. It’s the same thing when you play a character like that, and especially when you insist on doing most of your own stunts. You’re laying it all on the line for everyone out there to see, and if you can’t pull it off, you’re going to look like a fool. Perhaps it was a combination of ego, insecurity, and supreme confidence, but Conrad took that bet, and pulled it off.

*Well, that and good scriptwriters.

And that brings us back to his appearance at MANC. He was obviously ailing, but he declined staff offers to make him more comfortable by cutting back on the time available for his fans to meet him. It wouldn’t be right if he did that; those fans had come to see him, had paid money to do so and had spent time in line waiting, and he wasn’t going to disappoint them. No, he wouldn’t quit until everyone who’d wanted an autograph or a picture or a chance to shake hands had had the opportunity to do so. He wasn’t going to leave any fans disappointed. And you don’t do that without that same inner determination, that will to finish the assignment. So maybe there wasn’t such a difference between James West circa 1965 and Bob Conrad circa 2018. They were the same man, after all.

Robert Conrad had his detractors, those who said he had a chip on his shoulder, that he suffered from short man’s disease, that he insisted on doing it all because he was basically insecure. He didn’t suffer fools, which is a drawback in an age that prizes sensitivity. Discussing the various run-ins he’d had with people over the years (which had earned him several lawsuits), he put it simply: if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nicer to you. If not, well. . . He starred in several TV shows that were failures, but he had two that were hits—Hawaiian Eye and The Wild Wild West, successes that most actors would gladly accept. He lampooned his own tough guy persona in a series of Eveready commercials, daring you to knock that battery off his shoulder.

I was planning to write about Wild Wild West in my next “What I’m Watching,” but I’ll get ahead of myself here and mention that it’s a tremendously enjoyable show to watch every Friday night, and I’m glad we were able to watch the entire first season, with episode instructions by Conrad, while he was still alive. It doesn’t make any difference, I know, but somehow it still seems meaningful. And every time I watch James West, I think back to Robert Conrad at MANC, determined to make sure everyone left satisfied. After all, it wasn’t just his fans coming to see him; he’d come to see them as well. And, as he does every Friday night, it was a mission he successfully completed. TV  

Classic sports, classic theme songs, classic shows, classic actors, all on Around the Dial!

I'm always a fan of old sports broadcasts, so naturally it was great to see Classic TV Sports post the first game of the 1973 National League Championship Series between the Mets and the Reds.  I'm fairly sure I saw this game when it was on, even though I was living in the world's worst town; I know I was rooting for the Mets.  As much fun as it is to watch, it's also painful in a way, as it reminds me of how slow and plodding the game has become.  Nowadays, you'd be lucky to get through six innings in two hours.

Classic Film and TV Cafe gives us seven things to know about Ross Martin.  I've always enjoyed watching Martin; he's best known for The Wild Wild West but he did some terrific work in a couple of episodes of The Twilight Zone, and was fun to watch in the old series Mr. Lucky.  I was sorry when he died; a literate, likable actor.

When I was of the right age, I watched F Troop, and must have liked it well enough that I had one of those TV tie-in books about it.  I've seen a few episodes now and again, and parts of it wear better than others, but Larry Storch always seems to come up with a way to steal the scene.  This week The Horn Section continues looking at F Troop with the abusrdist, appropriate seasonal episode "V is For Vampire."

At The A/V Club, Stephen Bowie (who usually writes for his great blog Classic TV History) has a very good article on the '60s countercultural series Then Came Bronson.  Based on my own cultural philosophy I suspect this show would have driven me nuts (as does its progenitor, Route 66), and in fact I don't remember whether or not I ever watched it, though I was certainly aware of it.  Bravos for its serious, existential side, though; that's the kind of TV I'd like to see more of.

Also at The A/V Club, John Teti has a piece dissecting the themes to six TV game shows.  This is precisely the kind of timewaster that I'll get sucked into watching and reading, and I'll be enjoying every minute of it.  Got to agree with the '70s version of the TTTT theme.

At Classic Television Showbiz, Kliph has another of his terrific interviews - this time part three of his chat with Orson Bean.  I like Bean a lot, and have defended him in the past from people (who obviously don't know much about the entertainment biz) who classified him as being known for being known.  He's still the best Bilbo Baggins as far as I'm concerned.

I've never wanted to live in either Los Angeles or New York, but that doesn't prevent me from being envious of their television museums.  Television Obscurities makes mention of UCLA's Film and Television Archive and their upcoming free screening of "Light's Diamond Jubilee."  An interesting concept, to be sure, though I'm not sure it wasn't more infomercial than variety special.  But, 1) why aren't there shows like that today?, and 2) why don't we have a museum like that here in Dallas?

I can't answer either of those questions, but I can urge you to be back here on Saturday for yet another great issue of TV Guide! TV  

MeTV outperforms CNN, and other news from "Around the Dial"

You like that headline? It comes from the body of this story, covered at Television Obscurities a couple of weeks ago, talking about the rise of classic TV digital networks.  According to the source, TVNewsCheck, MeTV ranks "19th among all national cable networks in adults 25-54, outperforming brands like CNN, TLC, Bravo and 79 other outlets, per Nielsen data.ranks."  This does not surprise me at all.

Over at Christmas TV History, Joanna is once again giving us Christmas in July, this year consisting of TV bloggers sharing their Christmas favorites.  Yours truly will be on the docket later this month (don't worry, I'll let you know when), but don't wait for me - make it a point to check out a new memory every day.

Besides giving me a kind shout-out, there's a very good reason you should be reading Cult TV Blog this week - an introduction to the use of allegory in The Prisoner.  If I can borrow a bit of Brit-speak, this should be an absolutely cracking discussion, and I can't wait to see what the Prisoner heresy is!

Here's another story that a nerd like me would appreciate - a history of NBC logos, as linked to at the University of Maryland's Special Collection.  We're in a really static age of network logos nowadays - except for embellishments, I don't think that either CBS, ABC or Fox have changed in a long time, and NBC has been fairly stable lately.  I loved that "snake" logo of theirs; it's what I grew up with.  And the old color peacock was terrific - much better than the stylized one they use nowadays.

I greatly enjoy Kliph Nesteroff's interviews with classic entertainment stars, and he's back at Classic Television Showbiz with another one this week - part two of his fascinating chat with Orson Bean.  (You can read part one here.)  I've always liked Bean, even before he did such a great job as the voice of Bilbo (and later Frodo) in the animated Hobbit stories - which, personal opinion, is better than the overblown movie version.

My friend Andrew Lee Fielding at Lucky Strike Papers mentions his recent radio interview with author Julian David Stone, and links to Stone's novel about early television, The Strange Birth, Short Life, and Sudden Death of Justice Girl.  Now, a book with a title like that has to be read, but even more so with Andrew's recommendation, so it's going on my list.

And that's about it for this week.  If you're reading this life, I hope you have a safe and happy Fourth of July tomorrow; if you're reading later over the weekend, I trust that your Fourth was indeed a good one! I'll be back on Saturday, as usual, with another great TV Guide.

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