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: August 19, 1972

When last we visited Miami Beach, the Sun and Fun Capital of the World, it was for the most entertaining stretch of television since Jackie Gleason and the June Taylor Dancers were in town. I speak, of course, of last month's Democratic National Convention, otherwise known as the Circular Firing Squad, otherwise known as the convention where their nominee for president gave his acceptance speech at 3:00 a.m. Eastern time. "They blew that terribly," Walter Cronkite tells Richard K. Doan and Neil Hickey in this week's story previewing this week's Republican Convention, to be held in the same city. "I think it must have hurt them a great deal."

The Republicans take their turn in Miami Beach determined not to repeat the Democrats' mistakes of 1968 and 1972. Their solution: what may be the first purely made-for-TV convention. One Republican strategist puts it succinctly: "It's be short and sweet and to the point. And it'll be a whole new kind of TV show, different even from our own conventions of the past." After all, they only have two things to accomplish: "to nominate Richard Nixon in prime time, and to get those delegates in bed each night before midnight." As David Brinkley says, "This one will be even more difficult for us than the Democrats' because there will be fewer surprises, less suspense, and less to talk about." 

The differences will be noticeable even before the gavel drops; unlike most modern-day conventions, this one is scheduled for three days rather than four. The convention floor itself will be less cramped, with the Republicans having only 1,348 delegates as opposed to 3,016 for the Democrats. The platform and credentials procedures are scheduled for afternoon sessions, rather than in prime time. To liven things up, three giant video screens have been installed around the convention hall to provide slide shows and films for viewers, including three short films by documentarian David L. Wolper. And because ABC is once again forsaking gavel-to-gavel coverage, major speeches won't be scheduled until after 9:30 p.m., to make sure they appear on all three networks. Says Fred Rheinstein, who oversees the party's television and radio arrangements, "If the convention has a good look and is visually effective and interesting without seeming manipulated—which it will not be—then I've succeeded."

   

The convention itself kicks off Monday night with a speech by temporary convention chairman, Ronald Reagan, thought to be a kind of consolation prize since he was obviously finished as a presidential hopeful; followed by a speech from GOP Chairman Bob Dole (who was old even then). Tuesday night Nixon's name is placed in nomination by another old adversary, New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller. And then on Wednesday night Vice President Spiro Agnew delivers his acceptance speech, leading into Nixon's own speech. Everything ends by 11:00 p.m., or close to it, and everyone goes home happy. In November, Nixon wins 49 out of 50 states, garnering nearly 61 percent of the popular vote. Less than two years later, he'll be out of politics. Such are the vagaries of politics, after all.

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I should have warned you that this was going to be a political issue; in the first of three parts, Edith Efron takes a look at the state of blacks in broadcasting. Namely, why are there so few, and what's being done about it. 

Considering we're only going to get one-third of the story this week, a top-level overview is probably the best way to take it. Examination of the problem begins with the Congressional Black Causus; their investigation sugggests that the black community is "grossly excluded, distorted, mishandled and exploited by the white-controlled news media," and that "black people are systematically excluded from employment at most levels in newspapers, radio and television stations, though token nubers are to be found." Furthermore, the white media have "failed miserably" at honest reporting in the day-to-day news from the black community. In other words, Efron summarizes, "the hiring-promotion-and firing proces is racist, and that news coverage is racist."

Somewhat interestingly, Efron decides to investigate rather than simply take the words of black groups that the discrimination is intentional and racially motivated. The people she talks to at the station level, mostly heads of network-owned and operated stations, offer various perspectives on increasing black representation in the newsroom. Robert Hocking, at WCBS, says that it's difficult to train people in these "complex jobs"; thus, they tend to rely on those who've already received training. They're also moving to increase hiring in the sales area, since "most stations get management people through sales." Across the board, they agree that although the numbers are still low, major strides are being made.

Howard University professor Samuel Yette, the "self-appointed" spokesman for the black journalists, contends that the increase in hiring is largely "pacification, not unlike other pacification measures aimed at blacks during the last decade." To which a white editor replies, "Do you realize what he's saying? He's saying we're racists if we don't hire blacks—and that we're racists if we do hire blacks." One top decision-maker explains the complexities involved. The bottom line is "protecting the station license," and everything is measured against that. If you hire too many blacks, you face the public calling you "the black station." If you hire too many inexperienced blacks, "the work begins to sink." If you put too many in the sales department, "those people in the ad agencies [may] take their business elsewhere." Most important for the credibility of the station, "How many blacks without real managerial experience can you put in decision-making jobs before they bankrupt you." At the same time, he acknowledges a double-standard. "Our staff is loaded with white mediocrities. Every staff is loaded with white mediocrities. But we're used to white mediocrity. When it's a black mediocrity, it feels as if somebody forced him down your craw. I grant you, it's racism."

The bottom line, Efron says in the conclusion to part one of the story, is that Yette's analysis, "couched in 'master-slave' language, is seeing the situation from the 'outside.'" Station managers and executives look at the same problem from the "inside." What does it add up to? Black unpreparedness due to historical racism is a reality; but contemporary efforts to fix the situation are also a reality; but continuing racism in the industry is also a reality. Which is the dominant one? What they all agree on is that there is a problem. 

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Surely there must be something available for anyone not in the political frame of mind. And even with the Convention taking up three nights, there's a little something for everyone.

Football season will be here before you know it, and on Saturday, NBC airs a prime-time pre-season matchup between the Raiders and Rams from Los Angeles. (8:00 p.m.) For those of you trying to keep track of these things, this pits a team that would move from Oakland to Los Angeles and then back to Oakland and finally to Las Vegas, against a team that had moved to Los Angeles from Cleveland and would eventually move to St. Louis, and then back to Los Angeles. At one point both teams played in Los Angeles at the same time. After all that, who cares who wins?

Sunday includes what's sure to be a controversial episode of William F. Buckley Jr.'s Firing Line (PBS, 7:00 p.m.), as Buckley welcomes the controversil psychologist ◄ B.F. Skinner, discussing his book Beyond Freedom and Dignity. (You can see it here.) Among other things, Skinner advocaters that "man be controlled and conditioned to serve group interests." I'm not entirely sure about this, but I think Skinner might have wound up as head of the Centers for Disease Control; he certainly sounds like it. Either that, or he's a distant relative of Anthony Fauci. And speaking of programs with a modern theme, Darren McGavin stars as the defendant on "The Lawyers" segement of The Bold Ones (9:00 p.m., NBC). He admits causing $50,000 worth of damage to a private investigating firm: but it turns out the firm had complied a secret dossier on him that cost him his job, his marriage, and his reputation. The script, which won an Emmy following the original broadcast, was entered in the Congressional Record. Today, the firm that compiled the dossier would probably get a government contract. (According to IMDb, the information they gathered was erroneous, which guarantees they'd get the contract.)

With convention coverage starting on Monday, our pickings are going to begin getting a little slim, unless you're a political junkie as I was when I was that age. Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In (6:30 p.m., NBC) has an all-sports rerun, featuring Rams quarterback Roman Gabriel, whom you might have seen in the game Saturday, and cameos from Vida Blue, Andy Granatelli, Sugar Ray Robinson, Bill Russell, Doug Sanders, Vin Scully and Willie Shoemaker. Nice show. For those of a musical vein, the 1971 Montreaux Jazz Festival is featured on PBS (7:00 p.m.), and ABC—making good use of their extra 90 minutes before joining the convention in progress—repeats the pilot for the upcoming series The Rookies (7:00 p.m.), with Darren McGavin as Sergeant Ryker, a role that will be played in the fall by Gerald S. O'Loughlin, and Jennifer Billingsley as Danko, who will be played by Kate Jackson in the series.

It's the annual NBC telecast of the Ice Follies on Tuesday (6:30 p.m.), and this year Snoopy and his creator, Charles M. Schulz, are the headliners. On a repeat of The Mod Squad (6:30 p.m., ABC) has Andy Griffith as a man facing death threats after his testimony puts away a killer. And on Marcus Welby, M.D. (7:30 p.m., ABC), Gary Collins plays a hard-nosed father whose tough discipline is making things worse for his son; I'd bet on Dr. Welby against any bully. The GOP Convention wraps up on Wednesday, as does Steve Allen's stint as guest host (along with wife Jayne Meadows) on The Dick Cavett Show (11:30 p.m., ABC). Different time, same situation: Joey Bishop is guest host on The Tonight Show (10:30 p.m., NBC). Unlike the Democratic Convention, which saw sessions running until 6:00 a.m., the talk shows are in no danger of being pre-empted by the GOP. 

Thursday is a night of specials on ABC, topped off by a series' "best show of the season." It starts at 7:00 p.m. with Kid Power, a prime-time preview of a new Rankin-Bass Saturday morning animated series that begins next month. It's based on the "Wee Pals" comic strip, focusing on a multicultural group of youngsters sharing thougths on "prejudice, teamwork and responsiblity." A total of 17 episodes are made. That's followed at 7:30 by a "fast-paced" concert starring Three Dog Night with special guest Roberta Flack, and it had better be fast-paced since they're going to fit six songs into a half-hour (minus commercials). But I know; songs were shorter back then, and why not? At 8:00, it's a cinéma-vérité look at Julie Andrews, who just happens to have an ABC variety series starting next month, directed by Blake Edwards, who just happens to be married to Julie. And at 9:00, Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law presents "Victim in Shadow," a charged episode dealing with rape. Stefanie Powers is the victim, and Rick Nelson is the rapist.

The Summer Olympics start tomorrow in Munich with the Opening Ceremonies, and on Friday (7:00 p.m.) ABC presents a two-hour preview of what is already being referred to as the "Peaceful Olympics," meant to erase the bad memories of Hitler and the 1936 Berlin games. The network is planning a record 61½ hours of coverage (which is a drop in the bucket compared to what NBC does today, but times were different back then), and tonight's special gives us a look at the favorites, along with some memorable moments from the past. Next week's TV Guide will have an extensive look at the Games, but it's worth a look at an excerpt from that article, describing the atmosphere likely to prevail:

The atmosphere surrounding the Games should be thick with Bavarian Gemutlichkeit [friendliness]. A German Olympic official has promised, "We know only too well that crimes have been committed in the German name, and how many people have suffered . . . These Olympics will be what they are supposed to be: the great meeting of the youth of the world; of the new, hopefully enlightened generation; and thus a small contribution to world peace."

Ironic, isn't it?

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The last word, though, belongs to our cover star, Chad Everett. Everett was riding high on the success of Medical Center in 1972, and Jeanie Kasindorf's profile highlights some of Everett's, shall we say, controversial viewpoints, such as referring to his wife as "the most beautiful animal I own." (Did I mention already that this was a heavily political issue?) That remark, on the Dick Cavett show, caused guest Lily Tomlin to walk off, and for that reason alone we probably ought to thank Everett for performing a public service.

Everett was something of a chauvinist, albeit a benign one, who professed that he'd never heard of Gloria Steinem. But his comments suggest something more: an insight into the the very nature of gender roles, and the cultural controversy that exists today about the definition of masculinity and what it means to be a man in the 21st Century: "Please, women, don't take all of my roles as a protector away. Let me open doors and take care of you. If you want to come out and compete in the business world, I'm still gonna give you my seat on the bus."

(I'll interject here a juxtaposition with another article in this week's issue, a profile of soap opera star Marie Masters, who plays Susan Stewart on As the World Turns. In Ross Drake's story, she talks about the need for "a more balanced relationship" between men and women. "There is no reason why a man should be a prince, while everybod else in his home is a slave." Maybe this just interests me, but when Kasindorf asks Everett about John Lennon and Yoko Ono calling women "slaves," Everett—who "bristles" at Lennon and Ono's description—indirectly responds to Masters as well: "It's ridiculous. A woman shares in the income of her man by giving a cleaning service. It's honorable work. Wives aren't slaves or prisoners." As I say, maybe I'm the only one interested in this, but it's almost as if these two articles were posited against each other. Coincidental, I suppose. And this is probably the longest parenthetical digression I've ever engaged in.)

Everett, a political conservative (in case you hadn't guessed), sees Communism trying to "destroy morals and break down the family unit." And also makes what I find a curious comment, and I find myself wondering if it had anything to do with him being involved in a medical show, since I don't think this was something on the radar of the average American in 1972: "For us, day care centers and test tube babies are things that are unthinkable. I know I would rather not have children if the only type of woman who was available to me was one who wanted to get pregnant, transfer her embryo to another woman's body, then receive the baby back from the hospital and stick it in a child care center." 

You might wonder how his wife, the actress Shelby Grant, felt about all this. Well, she differed from him on some points, but on the whole her thoughts align with his. "Chad's never changed a diaper, and a lot of women don't like that attitude. But I don't think, as long as he's making the money, he should have to. I've seen a lot of pussyfoot men at the laundromat and the supermarket each week. In our house Chad doesn't waer my clothes and I don't wear his." (Masters thinks that it's "unfair" for any woman who can't afford a housekeeper to have to do all the work herself. But I'm digressing again.) And when she died in 2011, she and Chad had been married for 45 years. Not bad for a piece of property. TV  

This week in TV Guide: March 17, 1973

You probably don't recognize the name Robert Alan Aurthur; it stands out for me because he wrote two of the episodes that appear in my upcoming book. While he never attained the fame of, say, Rod Serling, Reginald Rose, or Paddy Chayefsky, he was one of television's more prolific playwrights, writer of more than 20 teleplays for Golden Age-anthology series such as Philco-Goodyear Playhouse, Studio One, and Playhouse 90. This week, in a new series of articles called "The Way It Was," Aurthur shares some memories of working in the early days of television, especially one particular script for Philco Playhouse.

We often hear that term, "Golden Age" bandied about — I used it up there myself. And Aurthur is among the first to say that not everything that aired during that era was great. "Only some were great. Some were terrible. Most were just OK. But in each and every one we aspired, quality limited only by individual ability." That's a pretty good way to describe the era, I think. Writers wanted to produce high-quality work, even when they didn't. And, Aurthur points out, everything in those early years of anthologies was live. No repeats, no do-overs, no pauses in the action. And speaking of action, there were "No shoot-outs or punch-ups to resolve hokey melodrama — and no cars. In some 30 hours of drama I never wrote an automobile scene, and except perhaps for a walk-on or bit I never wrote a part for a doctor, lawyer or cop." I don't think network television could survive today under those limitations.

To illustrate what it was like back in those days, Aurthur points to a 1955 Philco script called "A Man is Ten Feet Tall." You might have heard of that, even if you don't know (or remember) what it was about. The inspiration for the drama, Aurthur says, came from a trip to the movies he made with a fellow writer, where he saw Blackboard Jungle, starring a young Sidney Poitier. He was struck by Poitier's work, his presence on the screen; he was also depressed that an actor of such obviou talent had such limited opportunities, merely because of the color of his skin. He remembered a short story he wrote, some years past, which could be adapted into a television play that could serve as a vehicle for Poitier.

In those days, he says, "there were no committees to convince, no network officials to consult, no elaborate outlines to write." He had only to convince the producer, Gordon Duff, who gave it the go-ahead with one provision: he couldn't ever remember a black actor playing the lead in a television play. His suggestion: "Write it without describing the guy as a Negro. Then, after we cast Poitier, it'll be too late for anyone to complain." As events transpired, Philco was to be cancelled at the end of the season, concluding an eight-season run; it was decided that "A Man is Ten Feet Tall" would be the final production. (Remarkably, the kinescope exists; why not check it out here?)

Poitier and Aurthur on the set of The Lost Man  

Poitier's agent was onboard; the actor would be paid top dollar for the show, $1,000. Philco was no problem; they were only "moderately nervous" about the play. The problem turned out to be NBC — they were nervous that Poitier had once been on the blacklist, and was therefore unacceptable. Duff was outraged, and demanded a meeting with network officials and Poitier. Aurthur was not part of the meeting (Duff was "afraid I'd punch a lawyer"), but Poitier appeared, with great reluctance. Questioned about his relationship with Canada Lee, a black actor and activist, with whom Poitier had worked in South Africa in Cry, the Beloved Country. As Poitier recalled how they were allowed in the country only as indentured servants to the film's producer, he broke down crying, and fled the room. 

Aurthur informed the network that if there were any further questions about politics, he and Duff would notify the newspapers of the story. The network readily agreed that if he could talk Poitier into accepting the role, there would be no more questions. After a great deal of persuasion, he finally agreed to take the role, for $2,000. "A little revenge for Sid, cheap enough for us." Aurthur was kept busy with rewrites right up until the time of broadcast. It was a huge success; Aurthur recounts receiving more than 1,100 cards, letters, and telegrams in praise of the play; it wound up winning seven awards. On the flip side, two Southern newspapers called Aurthur a Communist, six Philco distributors threatened to cancel their franchises, and 6,000 people signed a petition saying they'd never watch the show again. Of course, since this was the last episode, it was a hollow threat.

That says a lot about what television, and American culture, was like in 1955. It's an example of one of the prime reasons this blog exists — to illustrate how much we can learn about America through television; not just racial issues, but so many other things as well. As for the power of TV, Aurthur concludes with what he called "the most thrilling moment," which came the night after the show aired. He received a phone call about 8 p.m. from Poitier, calling from a Harlem drugstore. He'd ducked in there to get some space from a mob who'd seen the play and wanted to tell him how much they'd liked it. "Listen to them," he shouted. "They're right outside the booth." He told the fans, "I'm talking to the guy who wrote it. Tell him what yiou think." Aurthur could hear loud cheering on the other end of the line. "Sidney laughed, and then he said, "Hey babe, I'm glad we did it." 

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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. 

A Touch of Grace, ABC's new sitcom, is graced, if you will, with two exceptional actors: Shirley Booth, "who can be counted on always to special-deliver" her lines; and J. Pat O'Malley, so fine an actor that "he can make something of nothing." Unfortunately, as Cleveland Amory found out, nothing is plentiful in this lame knockoff of the British series For the Love of Ada, and that begins with anyone in the cast who isn't name Booth or O'Malley.  

The premise finds Grace Simpson (Booth), living with her daughter and son-in-law, played by Marian Mercer and Warren Berlinger, who — for comic effect, we assume — are "so square they are less funny than pathethic." Berlinger is Walter, a hen-pecked husband who works at a supermarket "and is always taking about things like celery and radishes — which the writers think should be funny," while the status-conscious Myra mother-hens her mother by "always worrying about Grace's beau (Herbert, played by O'Malley) not being a gentleman." Grace, of course, is the complete opposite, sprightly and full of fun. O'Malley's punchline is that he works as a gravedigger, and he makes the most of it, especially in his readings of headstone incriptions; he is, says Cleve, "a riot."

The problem, as we've seen, is that Booth and O'Malley have nothing to work with. The plots are what belong in the graveyard, posits Amory; "If it's possible to base a whole episode on what is a tasteless idea to begin with, these writers will do it." One plot dealt with Grace giving Herbert her late husband's suit and watch, outraging Myra; another week will center on Herbert wanting to take Grace on a trip to Sausalito, outraging Myra; a third features Grace, wanting to show she can still support herself, getting a job as a ladies'-room attendant, outraging Myra. Well, you get the idea. Never far from the surface, Amory complains, are "Two Basic Jokes": one, that old people having sex is funny; and two, that Grace's life is unfulfilled because she's not yet a grandmother. If anyone can make these work, it's Booth and O'Malley, but too often "it makes you feel fabuely uncomfortable, if not downright annoyed." On the heels of All in the Family and Sanford and Son, the producers must have thought another American adaptation of a British sitcom would be a similar hit; 13 episodes later, they found out otherwise. Television, Cleve says, has plenty of room for a seniors' sitcom, but "this isn't it." 

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I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but Hollywood studios have been hit by a movie and TV writers' strike. (Imagine that.) According to Richard K. Doan, Writers Guild members are predicting the strike (the first one since the five-month long strike in 1960) could last for weeks, or even months; the networks are already foreseeing "utter chaos" with the fall season. Up to now, there had been general agreement that the new season would begin on September 10, but that's all in flux. What appears to be more certain is that some "tryout" shows planned for the summer may have to be shelved. In the event, the strike lasts for 111 days; it doesn't have a catastrophic effect; ten weeks in, more than 150 independent producers (comprising more than 50 percent of primetime television) have signed the new contract, with the boycott pared back to just the major studios.

Elsewhere in The Doan Report, Broadway producer Joseph Papp is engaged in a bitter dispute with CBS over a postponement of the planned March 9 presentation of Sticks and Bones, an antiwar drama about a blind Vietnam veteran's unhappy homecoming. According to the network, 69 of 184 affiliates had already refused to air the movie after having viewed a preview showing; the network suggested it might reschedule after the POW homecomings. Papp replied that it was a "cowardly cop-out" and threatened to renege on his four-year contract with the network. Sticks and Bones does eventually air later in the year, with 94 affiliates refusing to show it (in eight cities, it was carried by non-CBS affiliates). I wrote about this a couple of years ago; in the key quote, "One CBS insider, who said that the show was 'not even good drama,' guessed that 'the tune-out in the first half hour must have been astronomical.' " 

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It's that time of the year, when pilots come out of hibernation and vie for a coveted spot on the fall network schedule, and Saturday sees a pair of "world premiere" presentations on NBC, beginning with The Magician (8:00 p.m. ET), starring Bill Bixby as a magician who uses his art to help others. That one does make the fall lineup; the same can't be said for Jarrett (9:30 p.m.), a tongue-in-cheek detective series starring Glenn Ford as a P.I. specializing in fine-arts cases. Did the network make the right decisions? Check them out for yourself and see.

Buckley interviewing Smith on Firing Line

On Sunday, Bob Cromie's Book Beat (7:30 p.m, PBS) features convicted murderer Edgar Smith, author of Getting Out, the story of his 15-year quest for freedom that ended with his release in 1971. Actually, I should describe it this way: Edgar Smith, the convicted murderer who duped William F. Buckley Jr. into believing his story that he was an innocent man wrongly convicted. Smith had been found guilty and sentenced to death for the 1957 murder of a 15-year-old girl. While on death row, he started a correspondence with Buckley, who, convinced of Smith's innocence, financed a legal team to advocate for Smith's innocence. His conviction was overturned, and in a plea bargan deal he pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in return for being released for time served. In 1976, Smith kidnapped and murdered a 33-year-old woman. Smith called Buckley for help, but Buckley, realizing he'd been wrong, instead called the FBI and Smith was arrested and convicted of murder, confessing in prison that he had, in fact, committed the 1957 murder as well. He was sentenced to life, and died in prison in 2017. 

A CBS News Special on Monday looks at a prime example of how some things never change; "The Long War" between Congress and the Presidency over issues such as war decisions and spending authority. (10:00 p.m.) If this sounds familiar, it's because this is a conflict that dates back to the nation's birth. Since this is only a one-hour report, reporters Dan Rather and Roger Mudd are limited to looking back at conflicts between Congress and Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon, but if you think what we're seeing today is new, you've got another think coming.

Another pilot made good can be seen on Tuesday, in the movie The Police Story (8:00 p.m., NBC), with Vic Morrow starring as a tough cop working on a team set up to crash crimes as they're being committed. Chuck Connors is the chief bad guy, and the supporting cast includes Ed Asner, Harry Guardino, and Diane Baker; minus the article in the title, the anthology series debuts in the fall as Police Story. And speaking of criminals, the made-for-TV movie Beg, Borrow . . . Or Steal (8:30 p.m, ABC) featuers some nice stunt casting, with Mike Connors of Mannix, Michael Cole of The Mod Squad, and Kent McCord of Adam-12 as three man planning a museum robbery. Hmm; I wonder if this fine-art robbery will be investigated by Glenn Ford?

Another successful pilot! On Wednesday, Tony Musante stars as Toma, based on the real-life story of a detective who uses his talent for disguise to infiltrate a gambling ring. (8:30 p.m., ABC) In one of the more famous examples of such, Musante quits the series after one season, saying that he had never intended to do the series any longer than that; despite entreaties from the network, including an offer to convert Toma into a series of occasional specials, Musante sticks to his guns, and Toma eventurally morphs into Baretta, starring Robert Blake. Following that, Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law (10:00 p.m., ABC) gives us an prime example of how legal dramas of the 1970s are handling more controversial, contemporary issues: "Lesbian seduction is the charge as Marshall defends a diving champion accused of seducing a teen-age girl." You're not going to see that on Perry Mason!

Thursday's highlight comes from the world of syndicated repeats, as The Twilight Zone (9:30 p.m., Channel 27) airs the classic episode "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," with William Shatner hamming it up as the man convinced he sees a creature on the wing of an airliner; the way Shatner chews the scenery, I'm surprised the plane had any wings left. Elsewhere, Jimmy Stewart and Frank Sinatra Jr. are the guests on The Dean Martin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), with one of the highlights being a skit in which Jimmy and Dean report being robbed by a gang of nudists. 

Greg and Marcia stage a knife fight to the death for an attic bedroom that ends in tragedy for The Brady Bunch. (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC) Actually, I'm exaggerating a bit about the storyline—can you tell I'm getting bored here?—but you have to admit that this sounds a little more exciting, doesn't it? And CBS has a failed pilot, Gene Roddenberry's Genesis II, as its Friday night movie. (9:30 p.m.) Better to go for The Bobby Darin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), with Bobby's guests Sid Caesar, Dusty Springfield, Jackie Joseph, and the a cappella soul group the Persuasions.

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This week's Eastern New England edition has a full-page ad for Chuck Scarborough, anchor of WNAC's 6:00 and 11:00 p.m. news. It's the first major-market anchor job for Scarborough, who joined WNAC last year, and in the two years he worked in Boston he took the station to first place in the ratings. From there, he moved on to WNBC, where he became co-anchor of the station's 6:00 and 11:00 news, in addition to doing occasional reports and prime-time updates, for the network.

I mention this all because last December, Chuck Scarborough retired from WNBC after 50 years as their anchorman. It was only in 2017 that he cut back his schedule to only working the 6:00 news; even then, he'd occasionally fill in at 11:00. (His anchor partner, Sue Simmons, had retired in 2012 after having worked with Scarborough since 1980.) When he retired, it was as the longest-serving anchorman in New York television history. Here, we get to see him in his early years, destined for greater things. But who knew the kind of career he'd have?

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MST3K alert: The Black Scorpion (1957) features excellent special effects by Willis O'Brien (King Kong). It's about mammoth man-eating creatures that terrorize Mexico City. Richard Denning, Mara Corday, Carlos Rivas. (Wednesday, 11:30 p.m., CBS) It's not often that we're graced with a review by Judith Crist, but it isn't often that an MST3K movie gets a network run, albeit in the late-night spot. It's "a 1957 sci-fi with creaky oversized bugs out to rule the world, staring in Mexico. They lose — but nobdy watching wins." She's right, of course, which is why it winds up on MST3K — and that means everybody wins. TV  

This week in TV Guide: October 15, 1960

We begin this week with the Letters section, filled with discussion regarding television's coverage of the Kennedy-Nixon "Great Debates." The third debated between the two has just occurred (October 13), but this issue would have gone to press prior to that; the tenor of the letters seems to suggest that most responses have been to the initial debate, which was held on September 26 in Chicago. It's been considered a landmark in American politics, as well as a turning point in the race between the two candidates, but TV Guide readers have mixed opinions on the whole thing. Mrs. R. H. Damon of Alton, Illinois offers the networks congratulations for their sponsorship of the debates, writing that "It was the most stimulating hour our family has ever spent before the television set," and Dawn Merek of Modesto, California adds that "This was one of the finest, most informative, public services presentations the networks have ever given their viewers."*

*Hard imagining anyone writing this about this year's debate.

Not everyone agrees with that assessment, however. Wetherby Boorman of San Bruno, California suggests that "the 'great debate' was more a great bore. It needed a theme song: 'Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better'," and R. M. Hooper of Boston (echoing comments many might make about today's debate formats) "did not care for a combination of so-called debate and panel show. Let's have one or the other."

It's difficult to appreciate what a sensation the four presidential debates of 1960 were at the time. About 70 million watched that first debate, at the time the most-watched television program ever. It was made possible only because Congress had agreed to suspend the equal-time provision that would otherwise have required the networks to include all fringe candidates in the debates. And, given the closeness of the final outcome, it's not hard to imagine the debates (especially the first one) playing a part in Kennedy's victory.* Though the 1960 debates were widely applauded, a combination of uncompetitive races (1964 and 1972) and Nixon's own reticence (1968) meant it would be 1976 before candidates would face off again, when a desperate incumbent (Gerald Ford) and an ambitious challenger (Jimmy Carter) agreed to reengage what has since become a ritual of American politics.

*Although it might just as likely have been the way votes were counted in Illinois and Texas.

Most people today are aware the polls showing that people who listened to that first debate on the radio tabbed Nixon as the winner while those watching on TV thought Kennedy had the advantage, and the potential of television to affect the outcome of an election bothered some observers even in 1960. As early as 1962, Edward Rogers' novel Face to Face explored the potential for backstage machinations to influence the outcome of a debate, and today's campaigns argue about everything from the moderator to the height of the rostrum, and whether or not the microphones are muted when the candidate is not speaking. Regardless, the televised presidential debate—for better or worse—seems to be with us to stay.

The last word on the subject, at least for this year, comes on the last night of the week: the final debate between Nixon and Kennedy, scheduled for 9:00 p.m. (CT) Friday night in New York, with the two candidates scheduled to square off on foreign policy. (A side note: the Theater Owners of America have begged the political parties to please, not schedule any more debates on Friday nights; they're putting a sizeable dent in the weekend theater business.) If you look closely at the graphic above, you'll notice both Nixon and Kennedy wearing bowties. They're probably clad in tuxedos, which means this drawing was quite likely based off of a picture from the Al Smith dinner held in New York earlier that month. Just a little detail for your reading pleasure.

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There's some additional material in the Letters section, and it too sheds light on the state of the American mind in 1960.

The final three letters are all concerning an ABC documentary entitled Cast the First Stone, which apparently dealt with the issue of race in America, particularly when it came to school desegregation. A letter writer from Baton Rouge, Louisiana who wishes to remain anonymous demonstrates the skepticism and defensiveness with which the South views both the North and Federal authority. Says the writer, "If Chicago has more segregated schools than Little Rock [a point that must have been made in the program], why don't our powerful Supreme Courts take action? Does the so-called law of the land apply only to the dear Southland?"

George Compton, of Brooklyn, New York, echos a point many made (including FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover) at the time, suggesting that the civil rights movement has been infiltrated and taken over by the Communists. Mr. Compton singles out ABC news chief John Charles Daly and his associates for "practically confirming the statements of the past week of Khrushchev-Castro. . . He couldn't have picked a better time nor a better subject (discrimination here in America) . . . I am sure Khrushchev thanks him, Castro thanks him, and most of all, the Party thanks him!"

Another anonymous writer, from Toms River, New Jersey, looks at the Red angle differently, praising ABC for presenting "A real eye-opener. We should start acting like real Americans toward one another instead of giving Mr. K and his friend the bearded windbag additional reason to criticize."

It's a fascinating snapshot of how strong emotions ran at the time, and how layered it really was. The final two letters both look at the impact of discrimination in terms of how the rest of the world views America, but while the Compton letter accuses ABC of playing into the Communists' propaganda, the writer in Toms River suggests just the opposite, that it's America's willingness to take an honest look at itself that will disarm the Soviet message.

The letter from Baton Rouge, suggesting that the North take a look at itself before getting too self-righteous, will be brought home in the next decade, when the North first felt the full brunt of violence over school busing. The rioting and demonstrations in Boston gave many Americans a real look at behavior usually associated with the South, and demonstrated that race isn't always a geographical issue. I wonder if this wasn't one of the points of the documentary in the first place?

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For the first time in the television era, viewers have dueling football leagues to choose from. It's the first season for the American Football League, the league that goes toe-to-toe with the NFL until the two leagues eventually merge in 1970 (although the actual arrangements occurred much earlier).

It's a jumbled television arrangement for the leagues in 1960; while the AFL has an exclusive league-wide contract with ABC, the NFL hasn't yet leveraged its collective selling power to sign a similar agreement. Most teams are contracted with CBS, but the Baltimore Colts remain one of the teams to broadcast home games on NBC. And to complicate things further, Dallas-Ft. Worth is blacked out from the NFL entirely on those Sundays when the brand-new Dallas Cowboys play at home.

Therefore, if you live in Dallas on October 16, 1960, the only game you're getting is the AFL matchup between the Dallas Texas and their cross-state rivals, the Houston Oilers. (2:30 p.m., ABC) If you want the Cowboys, you'd best head for Wichita Falls, where KSYD has their game against the Cleveland Browns. (1:30 p.m., CBS) And those folks living in Wichita Falls, as well as Sherman, are in luck: they can also see the Colts playing against the Los Angeles Rams. (noon, NBC)

You're probably thinking that for such a convoluted situation, there has to be some kind of "rest of the story," and if you did, you'd be right. The Dallas Texans, uncertain that they'd be able to compete with the Cowboys, wind up moving to Kansas City and becoming the Chiefs. The Oilers, unable to get a new stadium in the 90s, move to Nashville, Tennessee (where another new stadium is currently under construction). The Baltimore Colts and Los Angeles Rams, whose owners traded teams in the '70s, wind up on the move as well; when the new owner of the Rams, Carroll Rosenbloom, dies in a swimming accident, his widow* inherits the team, and eventually moves it to St. Louis. The Colts, with their new owner, move to Indianapolis under cover of darkness. And the Browns (who actually took the place of the Cleveland Rams when they moved to Los Angeles) head to Baltimore, to replace the Colts. Houston and Cleveland do get expansion teams in time, but the Houston Texans (not to be confused with the Dallas Texans) come about only because a franchise granted to another city is forfeited when that city can't put together an ownership team in time. That city? Los Angeles.  Of the six teams playing on television that day, only the Cowboys remain in the same place today.

*Rosenbloom's widow, Georgia, later remarries. Her new husband is Dominic Frontiere, whom you know as one of the great composers of music for television shows, including The Outer Limits.

Lest you think this movement is limited to football, however, there's an NBA basketball game for us to analyze as well, NBC's Saturday matinee between the St. Louis Hawks and Cincinnati Royals, a preseason game played in Indianapolis. The Royals, who started out in Rochester before moving to Cincinnati, will eventually head from Cincy to Kansas City (where, the name Royals having already been taken, became the Kansas City Kings), before making their way west to become the Sacramento Kings, and in the last few years coming thisclose to being the new Seattle SuperSonics (before extorting a new arena out of the taxpayers of Sacramento). The Hawks, recently of Milwaukee, have some glory years in St. Louis, but at press time make their home in Atlanta.

What does all this tell us, other than that professional sports is a fickle business? Well, it tells us a lot about the importance of demographics and television markets, as well as the leverage that sports franchises hold when it comes to public funding of stadiums and arenas. Franchise moves into the Sun Belt (Atlanta, Nashville) show us the shift in population out of the Rust Belt, making these new markets increasingly valuable when negotiating television contracts. Teams such as the original Browns and Oilers headed for greener pastures, where new stadiums were forthcoming. The expansion Browns, as well as the Texans and the Baltimore Ravens, came into being because cities that had been burned by having previous teams leave were more willing to shell out public financing. And the NBA, which has always been willing to head for smaller markets, remains a league where gate receipts play a big role in a team's financial success.

Another brief lesson in economics courtesy of TV Guide.

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And a look at what else is on television this week.

Last week in this space, we saw the proliferation of Warner Bros. cookie-cutter detective dramas, and Saturday marks the debut of a variation on the theme, The Roaring 20's (6:30 p.m., ABC), with Rex Reason and Donald May alternating as the leads, Scott Norris and Pat Garrison, newspapermen dedicated to searching out crime in New York City, and the luminous Dorothy Provine stealing the show as flapper Pinky Pinkham. And since our stars are P.I.'s in all but name, they have to have a foil on the force, in the person of detective lieutenant Joe Switolski, played by Mike Road. 

On Sunday, Ed Sullivan take his show on the road for the first in a series of monthly "See America with Ed Sullivan" specials, featuring stars from the city in question. This month, Ed visits San Francisco (7:00 p.m., CBS), with guests Johnny Mathis, Peggy Lee, the Dave Brubeck Quartet, Mort Sahl and Dorothy Kirsten. Later, Art Linkletter hosts a special Chevy Show entitled "Love is Funny" (8:00 p.m., NBC), a play on his "People are Funny" bit, with Chuck Connors, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Alan Young, Betty Garrett, and Jimmie Rodgers. And Jack Benny kicks off his 11th season with a very funny episode: "Worried about facing the weekly grind, Jack solves the problem by falling asleep. But, horror of horrors, he's facing interviewer Mike Wallace." Given my recent podcast about Wallace, I couldn't help but be amused by this. You can see the episode here.

Monday evening, CBS presents the third episode of The Andy Griffith Show. (8:30 p.m.) The show immediately follows The Danny Thomas Show, which makes sense since a) Thomas produces the Griffith show, and b) Griffith made his first appearance as Sheriff Andy Taylor in a Thomas episode the previous season. This week, "Guitar player Jim Lindsey (James Best) is thrown in the clink. And who should be in the adjoining cell but a full dance band that's been arrested for illegal parking." Of course, that kind of thing happened all the time in the World's Worst Town™.

Tuesday's episode of Thriller (8:00 p.m., NBC) stars character actors Everett Sloane, Frank Silvera, and Jay C. Flippen in "The Guilty Men," a story of gangsters trying to disentangle themselves from a narcotics racket, and finding out it isn't all that easy. Oftentimes, the most interesting thing about Thriller is its host, Boris Karloff, and as he nears 73, he reflects on his many years of acting, and how he's been able to, for the most part, get away from the reputation as king of horror films. "I just happened to be standing on the right corner when the right person happened along last spring," he says by explanation of how he got his new gig. "Unfortunately, I appear as myself, which is a frightful thing to do to an audience." 

Karloff "struck oil" with Frankenstein 29 years ago, but he feels he never really came into his own until his appearance on Broadway in Arsenic and Old Lace, which ran a little over two years. He was back on Broadway ten years ago playing Captain Hook and Mr. Darling opposite Jean Arthur in Peter Pan, which gave him a great deal of satisfaction. "The audience was always full of children seeing their very first drama. You couldn't, of course, imagine a more delightful or enchanting play than Peter Pan for one's first visit to the theater." It will be in that spirit that he takes on one of his greatest roles, that of the Grinch in The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and that alone will ensure that Karloff will remain known forever.

On Wednesday, the U.S. Steel Hour (9:00 p.m., CBS) celebrates America's love affair with the automobile in the musical salute "Step on the Gas," starring Jackie Cooper, Shirley Jones, Hans Conried, Pat Carroll, Share Lewis, and the dance team of Rod Alexander and Carmen G, and it's produced by Max Liebman, who knows a thing or two about putting on television spectaculars. Opposite that, it's Peter Loves Mary (9:00 p.m., NBC), starring the real-life married couple of Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healy. Stay tuned for a very funny (and very insightful) article by Peter Lind Hayes, one of the dryest wits on television. 

Thursday: Before Steven Hill was in Law & Order, before he was in Mission: Impossible, he was Steve Hill, and tonight Steve Hill is the notorious mobster Legs Diamond in The Untouchables (8:30 p.m., ABC). By the way, there's a note in this week's issue that "A psychiatrist discusses this series in next week's TV Guide." I wonder what the diagnosis is. . . Elsewhere, Raymond Burr is one of the guests on Person to Person (9:00 p.m., CBS), now hosted by Charles Collingwood; Burr is being interviewed from his Pacific Pallisades home with his houseguests, Governor and Mrs. Mark Hatfield of Oregon. 

Friday: The Nixon-Kennedy debate (9:00 p.m., all networks) is probably the biggest show of the night, but in a program that may or may not be related, Paul Winchell and Jerry Mahoney host All Star Circus (8:00 p.m., NBC), featuring Copenhagen's Cirkus Schumann. Just goes to show that you don't always need politicians to have a circus. There's also an intriguing drama about a moment in history that I've never heard of before. It's "Not Without Honor," an episode of Our American Heritage (6:30 p.m., NBC), starring Ralph Bellamy and Arthur Kennedy. The story: "Some months before the Presidential election of 1800, Alexander Hamilton pays George Washington a visit.  His purpose: to persuade Washington to run on the Federalist ticket—against Thomas Jefferson." That ad shows two men with pistols standing back-to-back, and since Aaron Burr appears in the cast, I can only guess that this is where this story ends up. Fortunately, by 1960 our political opponents only debate each other.

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And now that article by Peter Lind Hayes that I promised you. He and Mary Healy have been married for nearly 20 years now, and have worked together since they were paired up by their respective studios for a vaudeville junket. (Peter was, in fact, the only one in the troupe with any vaudeville experience.) By the end of the tour, he was in love; he proposed to her over the phone from a clube in Washington after he'd won $26 in quarters from a slot machine. "She kept saying I must be crazy but when I told her I was out of quarters she gave in." Twenty years later she still laughs at his jokes, "and they're not that funny any more." 

Since anyone in show business whose marriage has lasted more than six months is considered an expert on the topic, Hayes has been asked by TV Guide to provide his advice on how to have a happy marriage, a command he's only too happy to comply with. For the Hayeses, "the family that plays together stays together"—since their marriage, they've made it a policy to only accept engagements that they could play together. Not everyone can be that fortunate, though; "Not every doctor's wife can be his nurse." So how does a couple navigate the pitfalls inherent in marriage? Some of his suggestions are said with a shade of whimsy, such as #9, "There is a sure cure for the mate who snores: a bullet," but many of them are built around a core of common sense—a commodity that's in short supply these days 

For example, Hayes stresses in several of his tips that a husband and wife need to have their own lives as well as participating in the one life formed by marriage. Whether it's having some time alone (#1), making sure that the spouse who's not the breadwinner still remains active (#5), or having individual hobbies and pastimes (#10), it's important not to simply live life through your spouse's. He also stresses that parents should not be "pals" to their kids (#3): "I love my kids, but I'm not their pal—I'm their father, and they like it that way. My home is nice for them to live in, but I am bigger than they are and so long as they live in it they're going to obey me, the 'lovable old tyrant'." Today, by contrast, too many parents are still trying to live their own childhood for them to be parents to their kids. 

In-laws are always a potential problem, as well as a useful trope for sitcoms; Peter suggests that you "Treat them with a sense of humor and life will be easier." (#4) He's made his mother-in-law the butt of many of his jokes ("I haven't seen Mary's mother for months—she's been away teaching the Marines to fight dirty.") but if he lets up on her, she feels ignored. Too many couples are apt to forget #6, "Save your arguing for important matters. Don't waste it on picayune things." If your wife says the South won the Civil War, let it pass; "I'd rather be married to Mary than prove myself right." There's #2, "Too much meddling can kill a marriage," #7, "Too many husbands take their wives for granted," and, perhaps most important, #8: "Don't play bridge or golf with your spouse." Talk about a no-win situation.

Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healy were married for 57 years, until his death in 1998. If you want to know why, it can all be summed up in the closing sentence of this article: "The title of our television series, Peter Loves Mary, is correct but incomplete. It should be Peter Loves Mary. . . More Each Year. I know just what he means. TV