This week in TV Guide: July 8, 1967

ohn Edgar Hoover likes The F.B.I. I mean, he really likes The F.B.I. The longtime director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation has been a staunch supporter of the ABC series ever since its debut in 1965. Testifying before a House subcommittee, Hoover says that "I have received hundreds of letters from people saying that the inspector on the FBI series portrayed what they thought an FBI agent should portray." He added, "I want our agents to live up to that image."

The inspector in question is Lewis Erskine, portrayed by Efrem Zimbalist Jr., formerly of 77 Sunset Strip, and the subject of this week's unbylined cover story. Hoover is also a big fan of Zimbalist; he says that the actor "has captured the esprit de corps of the FBI and what it is like to be an FBI agent . . . He has helped to depict the dedication of law enforcement officers to duty, integrity, and law and order."

Zimbalist is in Washington. D.C. to film some background shots for the upcoming season of The F.B.I., and he receives a hero's welcome from the Bureau's agents, three of whom provide Zimbalist with an escort as he and a camera crew drive past the city's landmarks, establishing the proper atmosphere for the series. Following filming, Zimbalist will be ushered in to a brief private meeting with Hoover, as he has several times during the run of the series. Hoover calls Zimbalist "one of the team."

I've often spoken of my fondness for The F.B.I., particularly the opening credits from the series' first few seasons. Besides the memorable theme music, the opening provides a montage of Washington's most revered symbols: the Capitol building, the Washington Monument, the Supreme Court, and the Department of Justice building, the original home of the FBI. I swear, it makes you want to run out there and sign up. 

The F.B.I. was more than a propaganda piece, though it certainly portrayed the Bureau in an exceptional light. At the time the FBI was indeed a highly respected department—referred to be CBS during a report on the JFK assassination as "almost never doubted"—with agents that were thought by the public to be incorruptible. (That may not have reflected the reality then, and almost certainly doesn't now, but that was in fact the image, and we all know what wins out when perception clashes with reality.) But the series succeeded on its own merits, portraying hard-working law enforcement agents who rarely had the improbable flashes of brilliance and technological miracles of today's police procedural. Instead, they depended on the science of the day, combined with good, exhaustive investigative work. In place of quirky, stereotypical characters, the emphasis was on plot and detection, and the unquenchable thirst for justice.

My favorite story about The F.B.I. concerns a pair of columns written by the political satirist Art Buchwald. One mentions an FBI agent named Efrem Zumgard; the other tells the story of the first wiretap, when Hoover himself personally bugged the first phone call made by Alexander Graham Bell. ("When he said, 'Mr. Watson, come here—I want to see you,' the Bureau had the tape in 30 minutes.") Buchwald has Hoover registering in the hotel under the name of Zimbalist. Still makes me smile.

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For the first time in history, baseball's All-Star Game is being televised in prime-time. It's being played at the four-year-old Anaheim Stadium, home of the California Angels, and NBC is taking advantage of the time difference to start the game at 7:15 p.m. Eastern time, 4:15 p.m. on the West Coast.

Unfortunately, starting the game at that hour produces some unintended side-effects, chief among which is that the late-afternoon sun is right in the batter's eye for much of the game. The National League scores in the top of the second, the American League ties it up in the bottom of the sixth, and there it remains for awhile. Quite awhile, in fact. It isn't until Tony Perez' home run in the top of the 15th inning, almost four hours later, that the National League wins the snoozer, 2-1. The game sets records for most strikeouts (30, as every one of the game's twelve pitchers records at least one strikeout) and innings played, and is the first All-Star game in which every run is scored via home run. Had the game simply started at the usual time for a game being played in the Pacific time zone, it would have made it into prime time in the East anyway.

This year's game is the middle edition in a troika of dismal Midsummer "Classics"; last year's affair, played in the afternoon in St. Louis, featured a game-time temperature of 105° (turning the stadium, according to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, into a "torture chamber"), while the 1968 contest, another prime-time game played in the air-conditioned comfort of the Houston Astrodome (where the angle of the sun won't make a difference) will be yet another dull clash, won by the National League 1-0 via a first inning run scored on a double play. Except for 1969, when the game is played on Wednesday afternoon due to rain, the game will remain in prime-time thereon.

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Radziwill with Farley Granger in Laura

There's a note in the Doan Report that David Susskind has lined up a blockbuster for one of his two-hour ABC dramas next month: Princess Lee Radziwill, sister of Jacqueline Kennedy, will star in The Voice of the Turtle, John Van Druten's Broadway hit, adapted by Truman Capote. Now, as far as I can tell, "The Voice of the Turtle" never made it to television, and the story behind that might be interesting. What did make it to TV the next season was a disastrous adaptation of the mystery classic Laura, starring Radziwill (billed as Lee Bouvier, her maiden name), and adapted by Capote. To say that it was panned doesn't quite do it justice; it was absolutely trashed. "Slow moving," "Awkward material," "The wardrobe alone emerges unscathed," were some of the kinder comments.

Now that I think of it, I'm sure the story of how The Voice of the Turtle became Laura would be more interesting. I do know that Capote, a longtime friend of Radziwill, was the one who encouraged her to get into acting, talked Susskind into casting her, and wrote the script for her. Ironically, a repeat broadcast of Laura in June 1968 will postponed due to the assassination of Lee Radziwill's brother-in-law, Robert Kennedy.

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Doan also reports on high hopes that the bill authorizing creation of the Public Broadcasting Corporation, currently in Congress, will pass. It does, although not without some fireworks, and by 1969 we'll see the debut of PBS' most lasting legacy, Sesame Street.*

*Note: this is not the famous hearing in which Fred Rogers swayed Senator John Pastore's mind on funding for PBS; that happens in 1969.

Not everyone is a fan of government funding for education, however. California Governor Ronald Reagan, himself a former actor, comes out against the government entering into "direct competition with private television," and says that educational TV should be developed through closed-circuit systems, aka cable-TV. To this day, there's more than one TV critic, including yours truly, wondering what PBS offers today that can't be found elsewhere in the cable or streaming universe. Supporters of public broadcasting counter that, without government funding, the network has to rely on programming that attracts viewers, just like commercial networks, rather than providing the kind of niche programs that its supporters envisioned. 

Oh, by the way, although The Voice of the Turtle never made it as a TV play, it was made into a movie by Hollywood. One of its stars? None other than Ronald Reagan. But, as far as I know, the movie has never been shown on a PBS station.

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Alan Kogosowski today

No "Sullivan vs. The Palace" this week; Piccadilly Palace, Hollywood's summer replacement, is itself pre-empted on Saturday night by the Coaches' All-America all-star college football game, (6:30 p.m. PT, ABC). Ed's around, though (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., CBS), with a rerun featuring Tony Bennett, Nancy Sinatra, Count Basie and his orchestra, dancer-choreographer Peter Gennaro, comedienne Totie Fields and the comedy team of Hendra and Ullet, 13-year-old classical pianist Alan Kogosowski, and the acrobatic Mecners.

Neither my wife nor I were familiar with Alan Kogosowski, and between us we're pretty savvy when it comes to classical music. Naturally I wondered if this 13-year-old had ever amounted to anything, so of course I looked him up on the always-reliable Wikipedia. His story turns out to be quite interesting: he did indeed achieve some fame as a concert pianist, particularly in performing the works of Chopin, but perhaps more significant has been his work researching and treating carpal tunnel syndrome and repetitive strain injury. Who knew?

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Every year, we run into the staple of the summer television season, a collection of unsold pilots that have been packaged into a series that would run for 13 or so weeks. Monday night features Vacation Playhouse (8:00 p.m., CBS), a charming title which hides the faint odor of failure. Tonight's episode (from 1963!) stars Ethel Merman as Maggie Brown, the owner of a restaurant near a U.S. Navy base.  My recollection of these playhouse-type episodes is that it was easy to see why none of the pilots ever made it as regular series. Speaking of vacations, on The Tonight Show, Bob Newhart begins a three-week stint as guest host for Johnny Carson. (11:30 p.m., NBC) Must be nice.

One of the week's original programs is Spotlight (Tuesday, 8:30 p.m., CBS), a British import hosted by comedian Shelly Berman and singer Shani Wallis (and, for a couple of weeks, Benny Hill!) that serves as the replacement for The Red Skelton Hour. (Tom Jones also has a turn as host during the series' run, which would lead in turn to This Is Tom Jones a couple of years later.) Tonight's special guest is Englebert Humperdinck; it might be worth a watch, especially if you're trying to stay awake after that All-Star game. 

One of the week's few original programs is The Steve Allen Comedy Hour (Wednesday, 10:00 p.m., CBS), the summer replacement for The Danny Kaye Show, with Steve's wife Jayne Meadows, and guests Tim Conway, Lou Rawls, and Stiller and Meara. Interesting note is that the sketches are directed by Harvey Korman. As for the reruns, Otto Preminger plays Mr. Freeze in Batman (7:30 p.m., ABC), and country stars Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs (who recorded "The Ballad of Jed Clampett") play themselves in a Beverly Hillbilles episode that involves the Clampetts filming a soap commercial (8:30 p.m., CBS). And speaking of Batman, Yvonne Craig is one of the guests on The Joey Bishop Show (11:30 p.m., ABC). You're welcome.

Thursday's highlight, at least for me, is the ABC documentary series Summer Focus, a collection of reruns from the various ABC docuseries. Tonight's episode is "I Am a Soldier," originally shown in 1965 on the network's Saga of Western Man series. The program's focus is on Captain Theodore S. Danielsen, a company commander with the First Cavalry Division in Vietnam, who completed his second tour a year ago. As was the case with Alan Kogosowski I was curious about Capt. Danielsen; whenever I see one of these Vietnam documentaries, I always wonder what happened to the soldiers they profiled. In other words, did they make it back home? I'm happy to report that, in this case, he did, retiring from the U.S. Army as Lt. Colonel Danielsen, after 27 years of service, during which time he was the recipient of the Silver Star and three Bronze Stars with Valor. He died in 2011, aged 75,  survived by his wife of 46 years, two children, and many relatives, and highly respected by the men who served with and under him. Not to mention a grateful nation.

The Green Hornet goes off the air on Friday with a repeat of the conclusion to a two-part episode involving the operator of a crooked health-club (7:30 p.m., ABC). As I think I've mentioned before, The Green Hornet had trouble in balancing expectations: was it a campy superhero series, a la Batman? After all, it had the same producer, Bill Dozier, and there was even a crossover story between the two series. On the other hand, Hornet lacked the eccentric villains and big-name guest stars of Batman, and had a decidedly straighter tone to it. Regardless, I'm sorry it only lasted one season; having watched the complete series a couple of years ago, I thought it was a lot of fun. Could have used more Bruce Lee, though. A lot more.

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Joseph Finnigan has a wry article on the Golden Globes, which he calls "the tongue-in-cheek awards," based on their longtime reputation for awarding performances based on suspicious criteria. For example, at this point very few nominees appeared for the show, and those who did were invariably the winners, which led more than one person to suspect that the only way to induce stars to show up was to promise they would win. The show has had a successful run for several years as part of The Andy Williams Show, but its reputation would catch up with it in 1968, when the FCC ruled that this practice constituted "mis[leading] the public as to how the winners were determined," which in turn led NBC to drop coverage of the show until 1975. Sounds vaguely familiar, don't you think?

The strange thing about this article, though, is that the Golden Globes were held on February 15, nearly five months before this article ran, and the 1968 show wouldn't be broadcast at all due to the FCC ruling. Usually you want some kind of a hook when your piece is going to run—and I can't imagine why anyone would have been interested in reading about the Golden Globes in July. Can you?

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MST3K alert: 12 to the Moon (1960) Moon beings fear that earthmen on their first manned spaceship are bringing greed and destruction to their world. They plan to retaliate. Ken Clark, Michi Kobi. (Saturday, 3:30 p.m., KCRA in Sacramento.) This ponderous space/soap opera isn't nearly as weird as Design for Dreaming, the short accompanying it on the MST3K broadcast. Masked people dancing to the future in the middle of the General Motors Autorama? Now, tell me that isn't weird. Almost as weird as Mr. B Natural, right? TV  

Read the fine print

The other night, we were watching one of my favorite police shows of the 60s, The F.B.I. (Call me nostalgic; I enjoy remembering the days when federal officers were the good guys.) Now, when I'm watching a DVD, I generally don't like to use the rewind button if I can help it; even though most of the shows don't include the original commercials, I still like to see them in some approximation of how they were originally broadcast.* But in this particular episode, I saw something so intriguing that I had to pause and rewind, just to make sure I'd seen what I thought I saw.

*That, and if I pause it for too long, I have trouble remembering what was happening when I start it up again.

The episode in question, "Hostage," was originally broadcast on February 19, 1967. As we join the story, the FBI has just put out a wanted poster on Dr. Marie-Luise Karn (Diana Hyland), part of a Communist team sent to kidnap an anti-Communist leader to try and force an exchange for a leading Red general being held in an American prison. Fortunately for the FBI, a man working in the harbor, where the Commies are planning to rent a boat to facilitate their escape, sees the poster:

Looking at the data, a few things become immediately apparent. First of all, the Eastern-bloc doctor is not six feet tall (earlier in the episode, a photo supposedly from the magazine Der Spiegel suggests she's probably about 5'8"), is not an American (she's likely supposed to be East German), and therefore was not born in Stafford, Indiana. But you know who was born in Stafford?

That's right—Dr. Richard Kimble. Interestingly enough, he and Dr. Karn not only share the same birthplace, they were also born on the same date*, and are the same height and weight! And they both became doctors!

*David Janssen was also born on March 27, albeit in 1931.  Coincidence?

Obviously what happened is that someone in the prop department pulled out one of the old Kimble posters, pasted Karn's picture over it, and used it in the episode. Both The Fugitive and The F.B.I. were Quinn Martin productions, so it makes sense. We've seen how shows recycle the same sets, the same stock footage, and so forth, so why not? And in the days before high-def, big screen televisions with pause buttons on the DVD player, it's unlikely that anyone anticipated troublemaking viewers like yours truly would be able to even see the fine print, let alone notice the discrepancy.

It's all good fun, of course.  One of the treats of watching old television shows on large-screen HD televisions is seeing things that were invisible when the show was originally aired; a Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea fan noted that the remastered discs now allowed him to see the wires that pulled models along the floor. As the Wizard said, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.  Little details like this just add to my enjoyment of the shows, and affection for the simplicity of the era. TV  

Over the Transom: Remembering William Reynolds

by Stephen Taylor

I see by the papers that Williams Reynolds has died. I was saddened by this, as my wife and I had watched the entirety of The FBI several years ago. As Special Agent Tom Colby, Reynolds was an excellent second banana to Efrem Zimbalist Jr.'s Inspector Lewis Erskine; never got to do much but make suggestions and acknowledge orders. "Tom, I’ll need you to check every drugstore between Tallahassee and Miami to see if anyone has bought any large quantities of Dristan in the last 45 days. And I’ll need a report by 4 PM this afternoon." And it was always, "Right, Lew. I’ll get started." Never anything more than a pretty face. Of course, Zimbalist didn’t have a huge acting range either, but the show didn’t call for it. No one cared about their personal lives, so the opportunity for drama for these two just wasn’t there. The drama was all left to the guest stars.

The show was "A QM Production," so it started from a foundation of quality. And it was good. Great music, with an excellent theme. Good casting. Good writing. Always depicted the FBI in a very positive light, with agents and supervisors all pillars of integrity. To this day, my wife and I will be watching a movie or TV series depicting cops, and they’re having real issues tracking down the suspect or making the case, and we’ll say in unison "Better call Lew and Tom," or "Lew and Tom wouldn’t do it that way." And we both agree that Lew and Tom would be mightily disappointed in their employer and what it became. It was always that way, of course, but the Sunday night audiences believed in the righteousness of the FBI, and Lew and Tom exemplified that attitude perfectly.

Reynolds had worked in Hollywood since the early 50’s, but he finally understood that he was never going to be the star, was always going to be the second banana, always the yes man. And he was content with that until the producers fired him at the end of Season Eight; they believed he was too old for the part. He was all of 41. He took the hint and went into real estate law.

With the passing of Reynolds, all the male cast members of The FBI are now gone. Lynn Loring is still with us; she played Lew’s daughter for in the first season. She was in about three episodes, at which point the producers decided that allowing the agents to have a personal life wasn’t necessary, and she vanished without explanation.

William Reynolds died of pneumonia, what those of a certain age call old man’s friend; he was 91. TV  

Read the fine print

A while back, I was watching one of my favorite police shows of the 60s, The F.B.I. (Call me nostalgic; I enjoy remembering the days when federal officers were the good guys.) Now, when I'm watching a DVD, I generally don't like to use the rewind button if I can help it; even though most of the shows don't include the original commercials, I still like to see them in some approximation of how they were originally broadcast.* But in this particular episode of The F.B.I, I saw something so intriguing that I had to pause and rewind, just to make sure I'd seen what I thought I saw.

*That, and if I pause it for too long, I have trouble remembering what was happening when I start it up again.

The episode in question, "Hostage," was originally broadcast on February 19, 1967. As we join the story, the FBI has just put out a wanted poster on Dr. Marie-Luise Karn (Diana Hyland), part of a Communist team sent to kidnap an opposition leader in an attempt to force a prisoner exchange for a leading Red general. Fortunately for the FBI, a man working in the harbor (where the Reds plan to use a boat to facilitate their escape) sees the poster:

A few things become immediately apparent. First of all, the Eastern-bloc doctor is not six feet tall (earlier in the episode, we see a photo supposedly from the magazine Der Spiegel suggesting she's probably about 5'8", and Diana Hyland herself was 5'6"), is not an American (she's probably supposed to be East German), and therefore was not born in Stafford, Indiana. But you know who was born in Stafford?

That's right—Dr. Richard Kimble! Interestingly enough, he and Dr. Karn not only share the same birthplace, they were also born on the same date*, and are the same height and weight! And they both became doctors!

*David Janssen was also born on March 27, albeit in 1931. Coincidence?

Obviously what happened is that someone in the prop department pulled out one of the old Kimble posters, pasted Karn's picture over it, and used it in the episode. Both The Fugitive and The F.B.I. were Quinn Martin productions, so it makes sense. And in the days before high-def, big screen televisions with pause buttons on the DVD player, it's unlikely that anyone anticipated viewers would be able to even see the fine print, let alone notice the discrepancy.

It's all good fun, of course. One of the treats of watching old television shows on large-screen HD televisions is seeing things that were invisible when the show was originally aired; a Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea fan noted that the remastered discs now allowed him to see the wires that pulled models along the floor. As the Wizard said, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Little details like this just add to my enjoyment of the shows, and affection for the simplicity of the era. TV  

G-Men vs. Commies

Efrem Zimbalist Jr., left, receives an award for "patriotic civilian service" from FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, center, and Gen. William C. Westmoreland, Army chief of staff, in Washington, Dec. 4, 1968. (AP)

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I've mentioned in the past that our Sunday night routine includes watching The FBI, starring the great Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. and a succession of partners, fighting criminals and making the country safe from Communism. Although J. Edgar Hoover never appeared in the show, his fingerprints - so to speak - are all over it, and it must break not only his heart but that of Zimbalist and everyone else who worked on the series to see the mess the Bureau has become. Therefore, let us think of happier times, when the FBI was seen as the shining light of American law enforcement. The following, a kind of compendium of past mentions of the show, is one of the essays included in my forthcoming book. 

Although J. Edgar Hoover first came to prominence with the FBI’s 1936 capture of gangster Alvin Karpis, “Public Enemy #1,” I think it’s safe to say that his real passion in life (at least from a law enforcement perspective) was protecting the nation from the threat of Communism. Hoover not only viewed Communism as the greatest danger to the stability of the American government, he also saw other groups (anti-war radicals, civil rights protesters) as working in tandem with the Reds, either intentionally or inadvertently, to undermine American democracy.

This was evident at the very start of The FBI. Right there in the show’s original opening credits, viewers were informed of the Bureau's mission: to “protect the innocent and identify the enemies of the United States Government.” That opening title scene was perfect, really; perhaps only the start of Perry Mason did a better job of summarizing what the show was all about. After a cold opening that gave us a look at the episode’s criminal, along with the case number and why he or she was wanted by the FBI, the scene dissolved into shots of Washington icons: the Capitol, the Washington Monument, and the Supreme Court, ending with a zoom-in on the Justice Department, home of the Bureau. Between that and the majestic theme, written by Bronislaw Kaper, it was enough to make you run right out there and sign up. I’m sure Hoover must have loved it.

Hoover and the FBI had had a brilliant public relations machine for years, dating back to radio programs such as I Was a Communist for the FBI, and favorable articles in the nation’s publications and periodicals. By the mid-60s, though, the Bureau was going through some tough times, what with the twin barrages brought by Vietnam and civil rights (and Hoover’s surveillance against leaders of both movements), and though the Bureau’s reputation was probably far above where it is today, a little good publicity couldn’t hurt. "We finally decided to clarify for the public what the FBI does," Cartha DeLoach, Hoover's #2, said. "We're simply an investigative agency. We can't protect people - like civil rights workers, for instance. There's some confusion about what we do and I hope this program will show people how we really work." Nicely played.

Over the years, Hoover had received many requests from television people interested in doing a weekly FBI series, and it’s been said that he personally wanted producer Quinn Martin, he of The Untouchables and The Fugitive, to be the one who did it. Martin had resisted the idea at first; he was, he said, "much more politically left of the FBI," but he eventually too up the challenge, and despite their political differences the two men liked each other and got along well.

A cynic might be tempted to dismiss The FBI as an entertaining piece of propaganda designed to show the Bureau in the best light possible, and in fact it does come across as a paragon of law enforcement, more interested in getting the guilty party than simply making a quick arrest (although ideally doing both); one of the highlights of each episode is when the fugitives realize the Feds are on their trail. “It’s one thing to have the cops after us,” one of them will always say to the other, “but now we’ve got the FBI out there.” It’s a sobering moment - from then on, no matter how much they may try, they know in their heart of hearts that the jig is up.

The perfect man to embody that philosophy was the show’s star, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. Hoover may not have hand-picked the cast on each week’s show, but the Bureau did have approval rights, and supposedly screened the background of every potential actor and actress who appeared in order to make sure they upheld the image that Hoover wanted projected. Over the years Zimbalist and Hoover became lifelong friends; every year, when the show’s production team would come out to the Capital to shoot some exterior shots establishing location, Hoover would have him come to his offices where they'd chat a bit, and then Zimbalist would address the agents, who cheered him as their hero. (At Hoover’s funeral in 1972, Zimbalist was seated in the FBI section.) For years afterward, Zimbalist recounted, men and women would come up to him, current or former FBI agents, and they would tell him of how watching him on the series had inspired their own career choice. It was humbling, he said, and how could it not be?

Give credit to Efrem, though, because his portrayal of special agent Lewis Erskine was an iconic one, the very definition of the hard-working, incorruptible FBI man. So identified was Zimbalist with the role that for the political satirist Art Buchwald he was the FBI; in a hilarious column about the first known wiretap (President Grant tells a Hooveresque surrogate “I want you to go to Boston and find out what Alexander Graham Bell is up to”) the agent registers in the hotel under the name of “Zimbalist”; another of his columns features an agent named “Efrem Zumgard.”

The FBI didn’t spend all its time fighting Communist agents; there was a fair share of bank robbers, kidnappers, corrupt union officials, organized crime bosses, and other lawbreakers whose nefarious activities took them across state lines (and therefore into the jurisdiction of the FBI); and Quinn Martin tended to shy away from hot-button issues such as civil rights (he was as sensitive to audience and sponsor reaction as anyone). It’s probably true, though, that the most frequent heavies were those who spoke with eastern European accents and preyed on the weaknesses of those who could be blackmailed into helping them – particularly if those people worked with Department of Defense contractors. Occasionally, you’d even meet a true believer, someone who of their own free will was involved in providing aid and comfort to the enemy, in the form of top secret information on a new missile guidance system which they hoped would lead to the victory of the peace-loving Soviets or Red Chinese.

No matter. The FBI always got their Commies.

As was the case with Mission: Impossible, The FBI had to adapt as the public began to adopt a more cynical attitude toward government, and in lieu of Communist agents, La Cosa Nostra became a favorite target. I wonder, though, if The FBI wasn’t one of the last dramas of the ‘70s to actually portray the war against Communism in a favorable light. Although several of the Red agents were given very complex treatments, with some of them even emerging as sympathetic characters, there was never the slightest suggestion that what they were doing could be ignored or excused. They were involved in espionage, and if they were Americans, they were also betraying their country. Neither the FBI nor The FBI thought much of that.

There was, in that day, great dignity – even nobility – in the idea of being a part of the world's greatest police organization, which brings us back once again to those opening credits. As much as anything, they showed us how the FBI was, even if it was never how it was. TV  

Around the dial

Martin Landau died this week; the Oscar-winner and co-star of Mission: Impossible played many a bad guy during his career, and certainly that must have influenced the way viewers saw him in M:I. His character, Rollin Hand, was an illusionist, a master of disguise, called in when the IMF needed to impersonate a key figure; but there was an underlying edge, a menace in the way Landau played him, that combined with his past roles* to make it quite believable that Rollin moonlighted as a spy. (Or was a spy moonlighting as an illusionist, one or the other.) In those episodes that didn't depend on his impersonations - I think of one in particular when he was filling in for Steven Hill, for reasons best explained elsewhere - he was convincing in a way that Barney or Willy might not have been, and of all the agents on Mission: Impossible, including Jim Phelps, Rollin was the one that I would least have wanted to meet in a dark alley, and the one I would have most wanted on my side. Though the series still had some fine seasons after Landau and his then-wife Barbara Bain left, it was never the same, and never as good.

As I mentioned on the Facebook page, Martin Landau was scheduled to appear at the Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention in September, and I was looking forward to being able to meet him. That won't happen now, but as is the case, we're consoled by the many terrific performances he left behind for us to appreciate. The Last Drive-In has a brief but very accurate tribute to Landau, "a truly great actor." Andrew at The Lucky Strike Papers recalls some of Landau's best performances.

*In much the same way Raymond Burr brought his past as a heavy to bear on his portrayal of Perry Mason. Particularly in the early seasons, it must have had the same kind of influence on viewers, convincing them that he wasn't kidding when he played hardball on behalf of his client. 

At Comfort TV, David continues his tour of the United States through television with two really good choices - Naked City to represent New York, and The Rifleman for New Mexico. I don't think I ever thought of New Mexico as Lucas McCain's home, but it works for me.

I don't think I've ever heard of the British detective series Hamish Macbeth, but if you're turning in expecting some kind of Scottish melodrama full of shadows and mystery, I'm afraid you'll probably be disappointed. Instead, as British TV Detectives points out, it's a solid series that probably isn't my cup of tea but likely appeals to a lot of viewers.

Staying on the Brit theme is Cult TV Blog's review of They Came from Somewhere Else, the sci-fi/horror parody that, as John points out, is "the true frontier of cult TV" as well as very much of an '80s series.

The FBI, as I've written before, is on our Sunday night viewing schedule, and last week featured the seventh-season episode "The Game of Terror," starring a sadistic Richard Thomas. The episode was directed by Ralph Senensky, who writes about this episode at his terrific website, a virtual history of television from the late '50s through the '80s. After you're done reading about "The Game of Terror," browse around the rest of the site - I can promise you'll still be there two hours later.

One of the reasons I'm drawn to Jack's Hitchcock Project summaries on bare-bones e-zine is that, as a writer, I'm fascinated by the process of adapting a novel or short story into a television script, where the challenge is either fleshing out the story or deciding how to make it fit. (I often wonder how someone might adapt The Collaborator for film or stage.) This week's piece is no exception: "Power of Attorney," the final James Bridges teleplay for Hitchcock.

Finally, at Taki's Mag, Gavin McInnes has a, shall we say, provocative article on the provocative story that a woman will be the next Doctor Who. Seeing as how the classic version of Doctor Who is on my Top Ten list, you may have been wondering if I was going to weigh in on this. Frankly, I have neither the heart nor the energy to do so, although that could change in the future. I'll say just two things about it: one, that I'm not a fan of Jodie Whittaker, the actress who'll be essaying the role, and since this is bound to taint my opinion, I'll just keep my mouth shut about it.

Second, I seriously question whether or not the canonical structure of Doctor Who (such as it is) allows for this kind of folderol in the first place. We know there are such things as female Time Lords (Time Ladies); witness Romanas I and II and the Rani, just for starters. During that time, there was never a suggestion that these characters had ever been anything other than female; at a minimum, therefore, what this new development suggests is that Time Lords are naturally androgynous, doesn't it? Oh, I suppose you could counter that the exterior trappings are of no importance when you're an alien with two hearts; perhaps they don't have the same male and female biological differences that we do. And if that's the case, then all you're dealing with is typical P.C. from the BBC. Otherwise, you're left with the conclusion that the show's producers want you to believe that there's no difference between male and female, that we're all polysexual - or is it pansexual? I admit, I can't keep up anymore - and that those who talk about gender fluidity have been right all along. And I'm sure the BBC doesn't mean to suggest that, do they? As one of their more famous characters might put it, "You might very well think that. I couldn't possibly comment." TV  

This week in TV Guide: February 17, 1968

The good news: every room in the house, save one, has been unpacked and set up. The bad news: that one room is the library. The good news: the TV Guides were in one of the boxes that has been unpacked, and they're on a shelf in the closet. The bad news: I wasn't able to get to it until Friday night, which leaves little time to do anything constructive. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

What awaits you this week is a hybrid that's strange, even for me. It's based on the original write-up I did back in the early days of the blog, augmented by brand new material made up of some of the features I've added over time (Sullivan vs. The Palace, Amory's Review). It's not perfect, I'll be the first to admit, but it's better than nothing - about 50% new. The good news: next week I should have far more time to spend on TV Guide. The bad news: I don't have a new issue waiting for me. How will this drama play out? Tune in next week and find out.

On the cover this week are the two stars of The FBI, Efrem Zimbalist Jr. and William Reynolds, although judging by the background one would be forgiven for thinking that they were starring in a series about Grand Prix racers. I've written several times about The FBI, one of my favorite law enforcement programs, including the impact Zimbalist's portrayal had on countless young viewers who, because of the series, were motivated to join the FBI.

The focal point of this week's profile, authored by Arthur Hano, is Zimbalist's sidekick, William Reynolds. The FBI is the fourth series Reynolds has worked on in the last eight years, and the first in which he will appear for more than one season. When the call came from his agent telling him he'd snagged the role of FBI special agent Tom Colby, he was either out playing golf (his version) or trying to sell real estate (his wife's version). Either way, it is a life preserver for a man who had waited three years for the big call. He will wind up putting in six years as Colby, but in 1968, he remains uncertain enough that he doesn't let the success of The FBI go to his head, still driving the same used Cadillac that he has nursed for over 50,000 miles. Such is the life of a second banana, he says; "You've got to stay cool. Otherwise you get eaten alive."

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

Sullivan: Ed's scheduled guests are Jane Powell; George Chakiris; singers Bobby Gentry and Franco Corelli; comics Rodney Dangerfield and Will Jordan; pianist Paul Mauriat; and the Muppets.

Palace: Host Jimmy Durante welcomes Van Johnson singers Jimmy Dean and Vikki Carr, comedian Pat Henry, the rocking Temptations, comic magician Mac Ronay, and strongman Franklin D'Amore and the Bodyguards.

An interesting pair of lineups this week. They both start out strong, but whereas Ed's guest list finishes up with Paul Mauriat (performing his smash hit "Love is Blue") and the Muppets, the Palace can only counter with a comic magician and a strongman group. As soccer experts will tell you, a deep bench is what wins championships, and on that basis Sullivan takes the match.

Here's Paul Mauriat in a performance from this very year, 1968:


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

When I was growing up, I thought Jonathan Winters was one of the funniest people I'd ever seen. Today, speaking from a mature perspective, I still think he's one of the funniest people. So does Cleveland Amory - "pound for pound, sound for sound" - and as only Amory can, he explains why now is the Winters of his discontent.

Amory is a big fan from way back, and for years he's griped about how networks don't seem to know how to handle a man of Winters' talent. His network specials were terrible, but this was actually good news - as Amory's Law says, "if you can't be good, be terrible. That way at least you attract a lot of attention." The problem is that Winters' new weekly series is good, very good - and, according to Amory's Law, it will probably go off the air.

What works with this new series, in Cleve's opinion, is that Winters has to do it all - not only perform, but host, introduce the guests, and so forth. In a strange way all that work works to Winters' benefit, providing just enough restraint for his manic talent to shine through. He cites an example which is so wonderfully convoluted that I have to repeat it in full just to give you a taste of it.

As Mad Dog Wretchen, [Winters] is in command of the Filthy Dozen, who are ordered to attack the Sieg Heil Hilton. "The Nazis are having a little banquet there," Mad Dog explains. "The usual thing, a little chamber music and then they kick the waiters to death. Now you all know your assignments?" Replies guest Fess Parker, "Roger. First Fats goes over the electrified fence. To do that, the twins distract the guard by cleaning chickens in the mine field. Then when the guards turn to look, I short-circuit the fence by riding a rubber cow into the wires. Next I put the Count into a pair of Sta-Prest rocket pants, ignite his zipper and blast him up into the 10th-story window, from which he drops a giant M-3 yoyo and we all ride to the top on the upstroke, just in time to serve the snake-infested sauerkraut and the booby-trapped bratwurst. Well, that's the plan, major. What do you think?" Replies Mad Dog: "Well, it's an old trick, but it just might work."

Sadly, Amory's Law seems to hold true; the Winters show: by 1969, it's gone. Jonathan Winters is never forgotten, though.

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Across the top of this week's cover is a blurb for "The Most Outlandish Game Show Yet," which turns out to be ABC's Treasure Isle.  Not only did the show take place outdoors, it was staged on a one-and-a-half acre man-made lagoon in Palm Beach.  Probably the most interesting item we find out is that the show was financed and packaged for $800,000 by John D. MacArthur, who's probably better known as the founder of the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, supporter of many public television programs over the years.  MacArthur's brother was Charles MacArthur, playwright and co-author of The Front Page  Charles MacArthur was married to the actress Helen Hayes, and her son James MacArthur played Danno on Hawaii Five-0.  When your genealogy is more interesting than the television show you created, you know you're in trouble. But then, here's a sample episode; decide for yourselves.


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BOTH: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION

The most notable program this week, although nobody knows it at the time, is an NBC made-for-TV movie on Tuesday called Prescription: Murder.  Judith Crist, TV Guide's longtime movie critic, notes that the movie has not been made available for preview by the network, meaning that she'll have to stick to the facts without being able to advise potential views of the "wonders you may or may not behold."  She reports that the movie "stars Gene Barry as a doctor who murders his wife."  And that's true, as far as it goes.  What she doesn't mention is that the murder is investigated by a detective named Columbo.  The listing doesn't even suggest that the movie's a pilot.  But the rest, as they say, is history.

Although made-for-TV movies are really making an impact by 1968, big-screen movies still command the attention of viewers. This week, the big news is the network television premiere on ABC of Shane, the landmark western starring Alan Ladd and Van Heflin.  As Crist points out, Shane is "the original source for many of the cliches of subsequent Westerns - cliches that in the original are matters of inspiration, of genius and of art."  But that isn't all, as CBS counters with Steve McQueen's WW2 hit The Great Escape, "offered again uncut in two installments, each supplemented by equally pleasing short subjects."  Although it's hard to imaging having to wait two nights to see a single movie, that is pretty common back in the day, running a long movie in two parts over two nights if it doesn't fit into a two-hour time slot (except for Saturday and Sunday, when networks are more willing to let a movie run into the local news slot). As for those short films that the nets use to fill up the rest of the time slot, sometimes TV Guide tells us a little about what the films are. In this case, part 1 is followed by a short cartoon, while part 2 is wrapped up by " 'Rainshower,' a 15-minute featurette honored at the Chicago Film Festival."  Quaint.  I probably wasn't watching it though; the state high school hockey tournament is on Channel 11, the independent station, on both Thursday and Friday nights.

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What else?  On Saturday, ABC pre-empts the Pro Bowlers Tour for the penultimate day of the Winter Olympics in Grenoble, France.  The last day, including the closing ceremonies, is shown Sunday afternoon from 1:00 to 3:00, followed by pro basketball - a little different than the saturation coverage we get today, hmm?

And then there are these two curious items: on Tuesday afternoon, CBS presents "the 19th annual Busy Lady Bake-Off."  Now, I've heard of the Pillsbury Bake-Off, but the Busy Lady?  Turns out a Google search suggests they're the same thing.  I wonder if this was a way for TV Guide to avoid the commercial mention for Pillsbury, or if the company itself billed the contest this way. Maybe some enterprising researcher out there can fill us in on the truth.

And then there's a musical version of Robin Hood airing on NBC Sunday night (in place of Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color and The Mothers-In-Law). It has a great pedigree: songs by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen, and it features a who's who of familiar 60s names - Noel Harrison, Roddy McDowall, Steve Forrest, Walter Slezak, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Arte Johnson and Victor Buono in supporting roles.  But in the starring role of Robin Hood - David Watson.  Who?  I'd never heard of him until checking him out on the always-reliable Wikipedia, and it turns out that he had a pretty good pedigree on the legitimate stage and was one of the apes in Beneath the Planet of the Apes (taking Roddy McDowall's place, it should be noted), but his TV career seems limited to guest roles in various shows.  Well, you learn something new every day.

And then there's this note: "Communications experts seem increasingly agreed that closed-circuit TV (CATV) will gradually replace the over-the-air kind," Richard Doan writes. And what would this new, "cable" TV mean besides the end of ghostly reception and the ability to beam signals into remote rural locations? "It would mean the view would pay for his piped-in TV, much as he now pays for lights and phone service." Not everything that TV Guide predicted came true - but this certainly did. But many thought that three networks constituted a vast wasteland - could they have possibly foreseen the scorched earth that the future would bring?

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And finally, the Letters to the Editor feature a moment of poetic magic from Sidney M. Major, Jr., of Independence, MO, lamenting the replacement on ABC's The Avengers of Diana Rigg with Linda Thorson.

Steed without Emma
Presents a dilemma
With which I, for one, cannot cope;
Without her assistance
Steed can't go the distance - 
Please tell me there yet is some hope.

Sorry, Sid - them's the breaks. But you know the old saying about life giving you lemonade - and trust me, Linda Thorson is no lemon. TV  

This week in TV Guide: January 1, 1966

How lucky we are to get to celebrate New Year's Day twice in one week! It's a quirk of the calendar, as well as the limitations of the TV Guides available to me at the time, but I've always enjoyed these holiday issues, and if it's all right with you to see New Year's one more time, well, then, it's all right with me.

I've never been a big fan of holidays falling on Saturdays or Sundays - it's too much like a regular day off. And since Saturdays are full of college football anyway, we shouldn't be surprised to see the four games on tap for today. Things start, though, with the late, lamented Cotton Bowl Parade from State Fair Park, with Allen Ludden and Marilyn Derbur reprising their roles as hosts. In fact, the faces at today's parades are quite familiar when you compare them to what we saw in last week's issue, with Bess Myerson back on CBS' coverage, this time joined by Arthur Godfrey (while Ronald Reagan is off running for governor of California), and Betty White holding down the fort for NBC's coverage, paired with John Forsythe (starring in his eponymously named sitcom on—surprise—NBC) while her former partner, Lorne Greene, is shipped off to Miami to emcee the Orange Bowl Jamboree, taped the previous evening.

Following the parade, both CBS and NBC head off for football coverage. CBS has the Cotton Bowl, where undefeated, #2 ranked Arkansas is upset 14-7 by unranked LSU. NBC, meanwhile, continues its football widowmaker lineup with a triple-header of the Sugar Bowl (#7 Missouri holding off Florida 20-18), the Rose Bowl (where top-ranked Michigan State is shocked by #5 UCLA 14-12), and the Orange Bowl (#4 Alabama winning the mythical National Championship by beating #3 Nebraska 39-28 in possibly the game of the day).

What's that, you say? You're not interested in parades or football? What are you, some kind of communist? Well, maybe that's overstating things a bit, but if you fall in to that category, you can see the premiere of Magilla Gorilla at 11:30am on ABC, a first-run Jackie Gleason on CBS followed by Secret Agent, or ABC's variety trio of The King Family, The Lawrence Welk Show and The Hollywood Palace. More on that one below.

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

Sullivan: Scheduled guests: comedians Wayne and Shuster, Alan King and London Lee; singers Leslie Uggams and Jimmy Roselli; the King Family; and the Bel Caron Trio, adagio dancers. On tape, Ed interviews Brigitte Bardot.

Palace: Bing Crosby hosts the series' second anniversary show, with comedian Danny Thomas; comic Bob Newhart; the folk-rock singing team of Sonny and Cher; pantomimist Ben Blue; actor David Nelson, who performs on the trapeze with the Flying Artons; songstress Marilyn Maye; 8-year-old singer-actress Donna Butterworth; and Los Angeles Mayor Samuel W. Yorty.

Ed Sullivan really had a thing for the Canadian comedians Johnny Wayne and Frank Shuster; they appeared on the show 58 times. I can't recall ever having seen them myself, but their humor was apparently an acquired taste; many of the reviewers I've read from the time didn't really think they were all that funny. Alan King often is that funny, but I don't think he can compete with Bing Crosby, Danny Thomas and Bob Newhart. Once again this week, it's The Palace in a laugher.

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I've always enjoyed the witty banter in Cleveland Amory's reviews, the way he can slide the knife in between the ribs without even drawing blood. But now it's time to put things to the test; Amory's reviewing one of my favorite shows, The FBI. Will he like it? Will his literate humor be enough to satisfy me if he doesn't?

Fear not; the review of the series' first season is, on balance, a favorable one. In this era of "Bondian" adventures on television, "it's a relief to find in this series a serious 47-year-old hero—Inspector Lew Erskine, who plays as fine a lead as you will see on any show this year." Erskine is played by Efram Zimbalist Jr., who Amory finds very good, working "with a minimum of hokes, jokes and cloaks." The supporting cast, with Philip Abbott as assistant director Arthur Ward, and Erskine's partner Jim Rhodes (Stephen Brooks) are adequate; Ward is hard on Erskine [although by the second season he's mellowed considerably, probably at the behest of viewers], and Rhodes seems to be there for the youth in the audience, but they still do the job.

Amory notes something that I've always appreciated, the strength of the guest cast. These actors, and the compelling backstories they're given, are one of the series' strengths. The show is based on actual FBI cases, some of which are better than others, "depending on how good these actors [the guests] are, as well as how intrinsically interesting is the particular crime involved." One episode, "The Problem of the Honorable Wife," was particularly good, with a "truly remarkable performance" by Miiko Taka, which seemed to leave even the normally unflappable Erskine unnerved.

In fact, the only place in which The FBI seems to fall short is the way in which the bad guys fall. Efrem Zimbalist was trained by the FBI to shoot properly; "It's a pity somebody doesn't also teach the villains how to be shot. The long, starry-eyed, double-take stagger and equally drawn-out fall went out, we thought, with "The Perils of Pauline."

***

There's other sports on tap besides the bowl games. On Sunday, the Cleveland Browns take on the Green Bay Packers in the last pre-Super Bowl NFL Championship. The Browns, defending champions, are led by Jim Brown, playing his final game for the Browns.* It's their misfortune, though, to travel to Green Bay where they play the Packers on a muddy, snowy field. The Browns keep it close for the first half but under the battering attack of Jim Taylor, Bart Starr and Ray Nitschke, the Pack emerge triumphant, 23-12.

*Brown's final game would come later in the month in the NFL Pro Bowl, although nobody knew it at the time.

Interestingly enough, a companion article by Melvin Durslag wondering whether or not it's time to move the pro championship games to a warmer climate where the weather wouldn't be the deciding factor. This is exactly what happens next season, when the first Super Bowl is played in sunny, smoggy Los Angeles—because, according to legend, the owners were leery of playing a Super Bowl in Green Bay in below-zero weather.

Also on Sunday, it's the network season-debut of the NBA on ABC, with the New York Knicks travelling to Philadelphia's Convention Hall to play the 76ers. As an indication of how long ago this was, neither the NBA nor NHL (when the later was on network TV) debuts until after football season, except for the occasional NBA game on the day after Thanksgiving. College basketball is the same; it isn't until the conference schedule starts that the games appear regularly on TV. Nowadays, of course, they've televised about, oh, a hundred games or so by the time January 1 rolls around.

Another mark of how long ago this was: the Philadephia 76ers are actually good in 1966.

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Continuing the sports theme, "For the Record" has the following look at the business side of sports. The NFL, still battling for football supremacy with the AFL, is at loggerheads with CBS over the upcoming television contract, with CBS offering $76 million for four years (covering the time period up to the merger), and the NFL countering with a demand for $96 million. But in these pre-cable days, where else can the NFL go? NBC's already tied up with the AFL, and ABC has no interest, given the high cost and ABC's current deal with the NCAA for college football. Ultimately, though, the two groups come to a two-year agreement (with an option for a third) for $18.8 million, plus $2 million additional per year for covering the championship game.

But here's what I find interesting about this: the being bandied about that the NFL might start its own network, hiring a third party to syndicate the games to stations nationwide, as NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle doesn't want the league running the network itself. Of course, eventually the NFL does just that, with a few differences. For one, the NFL does control the network, and even though they still work through the networks, broadcasting only the Thursday night game themselves, it has only helped boost the league's popularity.

And why wouldn't they continue with the networks, at least for now? In 2011, the NFL signed nine-year contracts with CBS, Fox and NBC, to go along with an eight-year deal with ESPN. Combined with money from DirecTV for the league's Sunday Ticket program, the total from all television partners should come to about $39 billion for the lives of the contracts. One can imagine that when sports goes to over-the-top streaming, bypassing networks altogether, the NFL will be at the front of the line.

Also at "For the Record," we learn that the producers of Peyton Place were sent reeling after star Mia Farrow hacked off her blonde tresses between scenes, leaving little more than a crew cut.

BEFORE (LEFT) AND AFTER; COURTESY WWW.LETTERSOFNOTE.COM

They assure us that it's nothing personal, that Mia wasn't hacked off at the show or anything. "Her reasons were personal," producer Paul Monash says. "I don't understand them." He does think it will fit into the continuing story though, perhaps trying to make lemonade out of lemons. As it happens, the decision is to have her cut her hair during an amnesia-induced nervous breakdown. Later in 1966, Mia will give producers fits again when she marries Frank Sinatra and goes on her honeymoon, leaving everyone up in the air as to whether or not she'll return to the show. The thought is that Frank doesn't want her to return to work, and if you're Paul Monash do you want to be the one to tell Frank Sinatra that his wife has to honor her contract?

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On Saturday, WDTV in Fairmont, PA gives us Love and Laughter, a benefit for the March of Dimes narrated by Sergio Franchi and starring Sammy Davis Jr., Linda Lavin, Walter Matthau, Dina Merrill, Allen and Rossi, Ruth Buzzi, and others.  Later, the 11:15 pm movie on Altoona's WFBG is The Amazing Colossal Man,starring Glenn Langan but missing the silhouettes that will make the movie so famous. At 11:20, WBOY in Clarksville opts for something a little more serious: the Academy Award-winning All the King's Men, with Broderick Crawford.

Sunday highlights include St. Bonaventure taking on Earlham College on NBC's G-E College Bowl. There's no truth to the rumor that host Robert Earle gave Earlham an unfair advantage. A little later in the evening, NBC follows with The Bell Telephone Hour presenting "Music of the West," hosted by former Wyatt Earp star Hugh O'Brian, and featuring Eddy Arnold, Peter Nero, Dolores Gray and Jack Haskell. I would've thought there might have been a few more C&W stars in there.

Monday is the first weekday of the new year, and with it a raft of new daytime programs. Chief among them is a game show making its debut on ABC: The Dating Game, "which seeks to match eligible young ladies with 'Mr. Right,' one of three bachelors hidden from view." In the late night spot, Johnny Carson has the week off (surprise, surprise) and "a former guest will take over" the hosting duties each night. Tonight it will be comic Henry Morgan; tomorrow night Sammy Davis Jr. moves behind the desk.

Milton Berle is the guest star on Tuesday's Red Skelton Show, with the two old hands doing a spoof of Robin Hood movies - Forsooth (Red) plays a door-to-door torture implement salesman.

On Wednesday, it's the last night in 7:30pm timeslot for The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, which moves to the same time Saturday night starting next week. Premiering in this timeslot next Wednesday: the new adventure series Batman. Opposite Ozzie and Harriet, CBS' Young People's Concert with Leonard Bernstein presents a birthday tribute to the Soviet composer Dmitri Shostakovich (one of my favorites), who's turning 60 years old.

CBS' Thursday Night Movie presents the big screen adaptation of one of the truly big shows from the Golden Age of Television, Rod Serling's Requiem for a Heavyweight, starring Anthony Quinn, Jackie Gleason and Mickey Rooney—a stellar cast. Also stellar is the guest lineup for The Dean Martin Show later that evening, as Deano welcomes Peggy Lee, Frankie Avalon, Allan Sherman, Guy Marks and Rose Marie. That might have been a better lineup than either Sullivan or The Palace. Also, on Gilligan's Island Gilligan and The Skipper find a newspaper item suggesting one of the castaways is a killer! I wonder which one it was...

On Friday night Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor appear together on TV for the first time as guests on the debut of NBC's The Sammy Davis Jr. Show. You may remember that I wrote about this series and its odd history in the early days of this blog; after this initial airing, Davis will be forced to miss the next three episodes due to a clause in the contract he'd signed for an ABC special.

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Finally, the Teletype notes that the next U.N. special, "Poppies Are Also Flowers," debuts in April with Yul Brynner, Trevor Howard, Rita Hayworth, Omar Sharif, Marcello Mastroianni, E.G. Marshall and others. Last week I mentioned the U.N. series of movies, and linked back to my TV Party article about the same subject. There's also a note about a potential ABC series that did, in fact, make it to air: The Rat Patrol. And Samantha has her baby on the January 13 episode of Bewitched. It's nothing to turn your nose up at! TV