Book Review: Men of Action, by Ed Robertson

When last we saw Ed Robertson, he had just co-authored the mammoth—and definitive—book on The FBI television series, The FBI Dossier. (You can read my review here.) 

Ed is now back with his latest book, and as before, it is one that pushes all the buttons for classic television fans who like some substance along with their nostalgia. Men of Action: Behind-the-Scenes of Four Classic Television Series gives us a look at four series that define what it means to be a "man of action" on television: The Magician, The Untouchables, Harry-O, and Run For Your Life. All four were, to one extent or another, popular in their day—a popularity that wasn't always reflected in the ratings, but gave them a loyal and devoted following that remains to this day. There's no question that each of the four leads personifies the definition of a "man of action," and if such men are less common on television today than they were back then, perhaps this will remind readers of what they're missing. 

Men of Action: Behind-the-Scenes of Four Classic Television Series

by Ed Robertson
Cutting Edge Books, 265 pages, $18.99

My rating: ★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Robertson's choice of these four series is welcome in that only one of the four, The Untouchables (1959-63), has received any kind of significant treatment over the years. It was the longest-running of the four, and is probably the most familiar to modern-day aficionados: the story of Eliot Ness (Robert Stack) and his team of incorruptable federal agents, fighting organized crime in the Capone era. It was controversial in its day, not only for its copious servings of violence each week (the mob wasn't particularly known for handling things in a sensitive manner), but for its association of Italian-Americans with La Cosa Nostra, which supposedly enraged Frank Sinatra so much that he threatened Executive Producer Desi Arnaz.

Harry O (1973-76, which I wrote about here) is a classic case of a series done wrong by the network; David Janssen, in his most compelling role since The Fugitive, plays a most unlikely man of action—a private detective and former policeman forced to resign from the force after suffering a debilitating bullet wound to the spine. He's world-weary, with a bad back and a grumpy disposition, but while elements of his character are a standard in the P.I. business, Janssen's voiceover narration imparts them with a poetic, almost existential, quality. Over the two years of the series the location would shift from San Diego to Los Angeles, Harry's frenemy on the police department changes from Henry Darrow to Anthony Zerbe, Harry acquires a girlfriend played by Farrah Fawcett-Majors, and the physical action ramps up. Despite the changes, the series remains a singular example of literate detective fiction on TV.

Run For Your Life (1965-68), stars Ben Gazzara as Paul Bryan, an attorney who discovers he has an unspecified, but terminal, illness that leaves him, at most, two years to live. Determined to live life to the fullest—to "squeeze 30 years of living into one year, or two"—he embarks on a series of adventures taking him around the world, plunging him into the lives of those he meets along the way, and involving him in various situations that promise danger and demand action. Run For Your Life is the only one of the four series not to have received a commercial DVD release, althouth it's appeared on various cable channels over the years, and can be found in gray market DVE versions. Although it's fondly remembered by those who saw it initially, it deserves a bigger, and younger, audience; hopefully, Men of Action will help serve that purpose. 

The most interesting selection in Men of Action might be The Magician (1973-74) which gives us another unconventional crimesolver, a professional magician named Tony Blake (Bill Bixby). Blake had, in the past, spent time in a foreign prison on a trumped-up charge, leaving him with an intense sense of justice. Independently wealthy, he uses his skills as a magician to play an active role in helping out those in need, and seeing the gulty punished. As was the case with Harry O, there were cast and format changes, but Bixby's portrayal of Blake is a compelling one, and its release on DVD, as well as its appearance on cable, helps keep its audience 

Robertson's writing is clear and concise, neither skimping nor overwhelming the reader with details. He clearly knows his stuff, and he writes with an obvious fondness for each series that never crosses the line into amateurish fanboy obsequiousness. In addition to giving readers a look at the premise, development, and evolution of each series, he provides complete episode guides, including one-line synopses that tell you what to expect without giving the whole episode away; with its list of guest stars, it should prove especially helpful for those watching each series. 

Best of all, perhaps, is a treasure trove of interviews that Robertson has conducted over the years, with stars and guest stars, writers, directors, and others involved in the production of each series. Fans of these shows will find much to enhance their knowledge, while those just approaching them will find themselves drawn into their compelling stories. It's a fun, easy, entertaining read.

I've said in the past that next to watching classic television, there's nothing better than reading about it. with Men of Action, Ed Robertson has given us another treat for the bookshelf, and—hopefully—for our DVD collections.

By the way, be sure to come back later today for that special Thanksgiving bonus I mentioned on Saturday!  TV  

This week in TV Guide: March 12, 1966

My goodness, but we see a lot of articles about The Beverly Hillbillies in this job. There was a cover story on the female stars just a couple of weeks ago, and now the gang is back again. The British seem to have a particular fascination with the show; you'll recall Malcolm Muggeridge wrote a feature just the previous year that was probably more serious than it appears on first glance, and this week it's Ronald Searle, the British artist and cartoonist currently living in Paris (his illustrations accompany the article). 

It's not just the Hillbillies that fascinates, of course; the entire concept of America seems to cast a spell on Europeans, as if they're encountering some form of alien life. (And, in the case of Meghan Markle, they probably are.) The American West holds a particular interest for them; as Searle says, "The American Western is considered one of the fine arts. A dress shop, with appropriate decor, may be called "Ranch," a bar may be hung with saddles and pistols, and the jeunesse wouldn’t be seen dead in anything but "louees"—Levi’s, to you." The "West" is also, according to Searle, an approximation—"Somewhere beyond New Jersey," he says.

Searle's particular fascination with The Beverly Hillibillies has to do with the show's success. "By normal standards their rustic program should have been strangled at birth. And yet they have achieved the thing for which many an alchemist sold his soul to the devil: the transmutation of base metal into gold. Golden corn to be specific." And it's not just American captivated by these corn-shucking millionaires; "The adjective 'corn' has been tossed at the Beverly Hillbillies in many languages the world over," he notes, but "the Clampetts are still running way up top on Tokyo TV and, no doubt, in Hong Kong and Hanover. You name it, they probably have it in their rustic bucket."

Why the popularity? Searle isn't sure; "Braver men than I have tried to fathom the success of this comic strip from the backwoods." That isn't important, though. What is important, and undeniable, is that "in every nook and cranny in the United States where men and women are assembled together, millions of dreams are realized through the Clampetts. Week after week harmless citizens wish themselves into the boots of Granny and Jed and Elly May and Jethro."

Granny rules the roost

That's where Searle's article ends, but the question is a lasting one. The Beverly Hillbillies has long served as the poster child for the decline of American television—its dumbing down, if you will. Not because of any particular animus toward the show or its cast, I think; Searle noted that "a nicer bunch you couldn't wish to meet." Undoubtedly critics latched onto the Hillbillies because of the show's massive popularity; it was the number one series in the ratings for the 1962-63 and 1963-64 seasons, the first sitcom to hold that position since I Love Lucy in 1956-57. It broke up the domination of Westerns in the top spot; between 1957 and 1967, it was the only top-rated program not named Gunsmoke, Wagon Train, or Bonanza. In the 1963-64 season, Hillbillies had a 39.1 rating; the 2018-19 top-rated series, NBC's Sunday Night Football, had a rating of 10.9. The most-watched episode of Hillbillies, 1964's "The Giant Jackrabbit," was the most watched telecast up to the time of its airing, and remains the most-watched half-hour episode of a sitcom.*

*One critic speculated that it could have been helped by having followed LBJ's State of the Union address, but I'm not sure that holds water, given that the first primetime State of the Union wasn't until 1965.

Yes, I know things have changed a lot over the years, but that remains a hell of a lot of people watching that show, and enjoying it. Muggeridge, in his article, speculated that it might have had something to do with the show's innocense in a cynical age: "We, too, yearn after wealth which does not corrupt; after an innocence which triumphantly survives the possession of riches." Jed may have hit the jackpot with that oil strike, but it hadn’t fundamentally changed either him or his family, and there's something tremendously appealing about that. He felt that the reason for the show's worldwide popularity was also clear: "Backward or undeveloped nations are shown by means of television the way of life toward which they so ardently aspire." And if we skip ahead to August of 1966, we'll see a review of Hillbillies by Judith Crist that points to the same thing, that "what makes the show both durable and endurable," is its "utter lack of pretension."

 

Whatever the reason, and whatever you think about it, The Beverly Hillbillies remains one of the most popular weekly shows in the history of television. Given its success in a turbulent time, could it achieve a similar success today? Well, not to that extent; no show, save the Super Bowl, attracts that kind of audience anymore. And you'd have to have a unique cast, one that radiated warmth and likeability rather than stupidity and snarkiness. Still, you have to wonder: wouldn't it be nice to see a show about a family unspoiled by wealth, untouched by the corruptions of modern society?

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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 for this St. Patrick’s Day salute include Pearl Bailey; comics Wayne and Shuster; the Irish folk-singing Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem; puppet Topo Gigio; comic Jackie Vernon; the Three Kims, Swedish acrobats; magician Johnny Hart; the Emerald Society Police Pipe Band of the New York City Police Department; and the McNiff Dancers.

Palace: Host Fred Astaire welcomes singers Ethel Merman and Jack Jones; Marcel Marceau, who pantomimes "Bip the Lion Tamer" and "The Butterfly Collector"; comedian Pat Morita; the Roggé Sisters, French balancing act; and the Hardy Family, tumbling acrobats. Fred dances to "Bugle Call Rag" and learns how to belt out a song in the Merman manner.

Some weeks are easier than others, and this is one of them. The Palace has one of the greatest dancers of all time hosting, one of the greatest mimes of all time as a guest, and one of the great belters of all time. With Fred Astaire, Marcel Marceau, and Ethel Merman, the show hardly needs one of the smoothest singers of the time, Jack Jones, but why not? Ed's big gun is Pearl Bailey, no slouch to be sure, but on mesasure this really isn't a contest: Palace wins in a song.

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Throughout the 60s and early 70s, TV Guide's weekly 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 shows of the era. 

One of the revealing aspects of the TV Guide collection is finding out how some of today's best-loved shows were, on first glance, not that big a deal. You might recall that Cleve was no great fan of Carol Burnett when her show first premiered, but it wound up outlasting his column. The same can't be said for I Dream of Jeannie; it only runs for five seasons, but it's been in reruns ever since, and remains one of the most popular of the classic TV sitcoms. To be fair, Our Critic doesn't hate the show, which he calls "the NBC answer to ABC's Bewitched (an unfair comparison, I'd say); in fact, he says that Jeannie, "which is only moderately well acted and directed, has at least three redeeming features."

Not surprisingly, first and foremost on that list (as it is with you, I'm sure) is Barbara Eden. Not only is she "a very good-looking girl," she's also capable of all the special-effects magic that Bewitched and other shows produce. And third, the show occasionally veers into actual satire; witness how Tony (Larry Hagman) can make Jeannie go back into her bottle any time he doesn't want her around. That would, Cleve points out, "make her the ideal wife." That's what Tony's friend Roger (Bill Daily) thinks, anyway, but Tony warns him not to go there. "Your friends will turn on you. Their wives will hate you. Do you think they’re going to watch her treat you with kindness and understanding and compassion? Do you think they’ll let her destroy everything they stand for?" Ouch.

Amory enjoys the fact that Jeannie, being a very jealous genie, which allows the writers to have a field day, as in the episode where Jeannie threatens to turn one of Tony's old girlfriends into a pillar of salt, whereupon Tony replies by threatening to pour ink in her bottle. She desperately wants to marry Tony; after being single for 2500 years, "I don't want to be an old maid." There's also a streak of michievousness in her, which can make things miserable for Tony, Roger, and Dr. Bellows (Hayden Rourke), and this, he says, "makes I Dream of Jeannie bearable for the rest of us." Now I grant you, this is the show's first season, so we don't know if Cleve modified his views as the series progresses. One would hope so; otherwise, Jeannie might just make one particular critic disappear.

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The latest effort of the American space program, the launch of Gemini VIII, is scheduled for Tuesday, March 15; it actually comes off the following day, following the successful launch of the Atlas-Agena target vehicle with which the Gemini capsule is scheduled to perform various docking manuevers. Network coverage begins with the twin launches on Wednesday morning, and continuesentire with the planned docking in the late afternoon. The networks also warn that programs "may be pre-empted" for coverage of the spaceflight, and if you know anything about Gemini VIII, you know that this promise was more than fulfilled.

The two first-time astronauts, Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott, successfully dock with the Agena (the first such docking in history), but shortly after passing out of communications range, the coupled spacecrafts began to rotate along all three axes at a high rate of speed. Concerned that the rate of roll could cause the Agena to explode, Scott uncoupled the Gemini, whereupon the tumbling increased violently, along roll, pitch, and yaw, at a rate of 60 revolutions per minute. Charts and checklists flew around the cabin, and the unfiltered sunlight came through the windows with the effect of a strobe. With the astronauts close to blacking out, Armstrong decided to use the craft's reentry thrusters to stop the spinning. It was a bold, but necessary gamble; Scott later said of Armstrong, "The guy was brilliant. He knew the system so well. He found the solution, he activated the solution, under extreme circumstances ... it was my lucky day to be flying with him." Once the re-entry controls had been activated, mission rules required that the flight be aborted, and Gemini VIII prepared for an emergency landing. 

Much like the Apollo 13 mission just over four years later, the networks interrupted regular programming—The Virginian on NBC, Batman on ABC, and, ironically, Lost in Space on CBS.  Reentering over China, the craft landed safely in the Pacific; although it was still daytime at the splashdown site, it was the first to take place at night in the continental United States. The crisis itself had lasted for about 30 minutes; the entire flight, which had been planned for three days, ended after around ten hours. 

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The Open Mind, hosted by Richard Heffner, debuted on public television in 1956, dedicated to "thoughtful excursion into the world of ideas." It reminds me of David Susskind's Open End, in that it tackles topics that you don't always see on programs like, say, Meet the Press. On Saturday night (8:00 p.m., KQED), we've got one that wouldn't be out of place today: "Are Flying Saucers Only Science Fic- tion?" And in fact, the program could still take up the topic (and include foreign balloons in the bargain!) since The Open Mind is still on the air, the 13th longest-running television program in American history, about to enter its 67th season and hosted by Richard Heffner's grandson, Alexander.

One other note about Saturday: NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies presents the American TV debut of A Place in the Sun (9:00 p.m.), based on Theodore Dreiser's novel An American Tragedy, and starring Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor, and Shelley Winters. Saturday Night at the Movies expands to two and-a-half hours for this movie, and a note at the end of the listing explains why: "The Los Angeles Superior Court recently ruled that this film could not be televised if its artistic qualities were harmed. NBC is presenting it without cuts." That would have been quite something, considering the editing of movies due to length or content was a common, and controversial, practice back then.

Spring is in the air, and with it the promise of baseball; KTVU gets things started with a spring training game between the San Francisco Giants and Cleveland Indians, live from Phoenix (Sunday, 12 noon). Sunday evening, The Bell Telelphone Hour (6:30 p.m., NBC) presents an hour of music from American movies, hosted by Ray Bolger, and starring Robert Merrill, André Previn, and musical-comedy performers Ann Miller, Gloria De Haven, Peter Marshall, Constance Towers and Judi Rolin. The Telephone Hour remains one of the 1960s last weekly programs to be done live on a regular basis.

A very funny parody of The Untouchables is the highlight on The Lucy Show (Monday, 8:30 p.m., CBS), with Robert Stack as an FBI agent who recruits Lucy to pose as the girlfriend of a soon-to-be-released-from-prison gangster, played by Bruce Gordon. Steve London, who played one of Eliot Ness's men on The Untouchables, is Stack's assistant, and the narration is provided, as it was then, by Walter Winchell. They even use the same theme music—but then, since Desilu produced The Untouchables, they shouldn't have had any trouble getting the rights. Stack and Gordon were good friends; Gordon never shied away from his casting as gangster Frank Nitti, so I wouldn't be surprised if they had a great time filming this. You can watch it all here.

Tuesday's 11:30 p.m. movie on KGO (not to be confused with the All-Night Movie, which doesn't start until 1:20 a.m.) is The Private Lives of Adam and Eve, which I would swear I'd seen on a program guide for an adult movie channel, but apparently not, since it's making its Bay Area TV debut. It's co-directed by Mickey Rooney, and it tells the allegorical story of a group of people seeking refuge from a storm in a country church. Rooney stars as Nick, aka the Devil, while who else could possibly play Eve but Mamie Van Doren? Need I include the fact that it's a comedy?

We don't know for sure what actually aired on Wednesday, what with the coverage of the Gemini VIII emergency, but the Bob Hope Comedy Special (9:00 p.m., NBC) sounds as if it would have been a good bet; skits include Phyllis Diller in "Pagoda Place" as a woman who's remarried, only to find out her first husband is still alive; an Academy Awards spoof with Jonathan Winters as Rock Surly, an actor accused of bumping off his fellow nominees; and Lee Marvin, one of those real-life nominees, as Slim Premise, a sissified gunfighter, and Bob as El Crummo, a bandit chief.

Part one of this week's Batman adventure was interrupted by last night's bulletins (at least twice, according to oral histories), but that won't stop ABC from airing part two on Thursday (7:30 p.m., ABC). It's called, unironically, "Better Luck Next Time," and it wraps up the first appearance of the one and only Catwoman (Julie Newmar). That's on up against The Munsters (7:30 p.m., CBS), which presents a rare look at the show's backstory, as Herman is visited by Dr. Frankenstein IV, decendant of the man who assembled him, and an evil Herman lookalike named Johann. Now that's scary!

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Friday night's episode of Camp Runamuck (7:30 p.m., NBC) features Spiffy (David Ketchum) falling under an oriental philosophy that causes him to make a truce with the ladies of Camp Divine. And that leads us to this week's starlet, Nina Wayne, who plays the "curvaceous counsellor" of the girls' camp, Caprice Yeudleman—also known as "the tall show girl with the tiny voice."

She didn't start out for a career in show business. Believe it or not, and there's no reason not to believe it, she and her sister Carol were afflicted with weak ankles and skinny legs—oh, and they were also pigeon-toed. Their uncle, a doctor, suggested they try ice skating, and they would up good enough at it that they joined the Ice Capades when Nina was 15. The Wayne Sisters toured with the Capades for two years, finally hanging up the skates when Carol fell and injured her knee.

From there, Nina moved first to Vegas and then Chicago, where she became "a model by day and a dancer by night"; her mother's only comment was that "Daddy and I would prefer that you wear a few more beads." She started working with Van Johnson in his nightclub act, which led to an appearance on The Tonight Show, where Johnny was charmed by her "kind of coo-coo way of speaking," and a comedy style that he described as "early idiot." (When Carson asked her, "How does it feel to work without any clothes on?" Nina answered, "Naked." David Swift, putting together a cast for a new sitcom, happened to see that appearance ("She has the voice of a grape comng out of a banana"), and two day slater she was doing the pilot for Camp Runamuck.

She wants to be a "big star," but her acting coaches are under instructions not to tamper with that voice; Swift says, "She has almost an armor of naiveté, translated directly without being filtered." And while Camp Runamuck, scheduled opposite The Wild Wild West and The Flintstones, won't be around much longer, she's hoping to be heard from again. In fact, her career continues until the mid-'70s, including the movie The Night Strangler and a career on the stage. She marries, and divorces, John Drew Barrymore, the father of Drew Barrymore. And, in case you hadn't figured it out from all the clues in the article—a curvaceous figure, a little voice, a last name of Wayne, and a sister named Carol—that sister is, indeed, Carol Wayne, the Tea Time Movie sidekick to Carson's Art Fern. Small world, so to speak.

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MST3K alert: The Indestructible Man (1956). "A death row inmate double-crossed by his lawyer gets a chance for revenge when a bizarre experiment brings him back to life. Lon Chaney, Casey Adams." (Friday, part of KGO's All Night Movie) Look for a small but pivotal role played by Joe Flynn, who's probably glad he's better-known for McHale's Navy. TV  

Around the dial

At Comfort TV, David leads off the week with an intriguing question: whatever happened to "America's Sweetheart"? It's a title that's been dispensed on many luminaries over the years: Annette Funicello, Karen Valentine, Sally Field, and Mary Tyler Moore, to name but a few. Can you think of anyone who'd fit the bill today?

Jack's Hitchcock Project continues at bare-bones e-zine with Oscar Millard's second and final teleplay for the show, "One of the Family," with Jeremy Slate and Kathryn Hays as a young couple worried that their baby's new nurse (Lila Skala) may be a child killer. 

I've said this before, but then there's a real knack to coming up with just the right title, and there's no way I'm not going to write about any show with an episode called "I Was Hitler's Bookie." The show is The Steam Video Company, a British comedy show with a bit of SCTV about it, and John has all the details at Cult TV Blog.

At Television's New Frontier: the 1960s, it's the 1962 episodes of Have Gun—Will Travel, starring Richard Boone as the man in black, Palladin. The episodes comprise the first half of the show's sixth and final season—find out how the stories stand up to the rest of the series.

In one of the more surprising developments, Robert at Television Obscurities reports that the 1957 sitcom Blondie, starring Arthur Lake and Pamela Britton, is coming to Blu-ray. I'm always delighted to see vintage shows being upgraded, but I'm also wishing they might get to some of the ones on my list! 

More Blu-ray news: Martin Grams says the Rankin-Bass classic Mad Monster Party is headed that way this May, with some special features and collectibles included. If you're interested in it, you can pre-order right now! 

At Vintage Leisure, Gary Wells takes a look at the book The Untouchables, written by Eliot Ness himself, with Oscar Fraley. It is, of course, the basis for the TV series of the same name, and you may remember a few years ago we looked at a TV Guide with a feature article by Ness's widow. Sounds like a fun book.

Cult TV Lounge features four early episodes of The Avengers featuring Honor Blackman's Cathy Gale. I always think it's important to point these out, because American viewers didn't get to see them when they were originally on, and Mrs. Gale is such a wonderful character. It is, as noted, a "startling" difference compared to the Emma Peel era. TV  

Around the dial

Xefore we get to our regular Friday fare, some housekeeping:

It's time once again for my occasionally somewhat annual call for guest writers. In the past I've had various excuses—I mean, reasons—for doing so, but this time I'm not working on a book, I'm not moving, I'm not poor, I'm just tired. Over the past almost eleven years, I've written more than 1,900 original pieces for It's About TV!, not to mention some original essays for The Electronic Mirror, and it's not as easy as it was when I was younger.

So if you have an idea for an essay, or if you'd like to do one of the Saturday TV Guide riffs (and the Monday listings), send me an email. If you've read the blog, you know the routine: anything that's related to classic television specifically, or the relationship between TV (classic or otherwise) and American culture, is welcome. I'll never monetize this site (other than to sell books), but I will welcome contributions of the writing sort.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming, with the third of Jack's Hitchcock Project reviews of the work of Lewis Davidson at bare•bones e-zine. It's his adaptation of Larry M. Harris's story "The World's Oldest Motive," with Henry Jones, Linda Lawson, and Robert Loggia; and directed by Harry Morgan!

At Cult TV Blog, John continues his look at orphaned TV shows with It's a Square World, Michael Bentine's off-kilter comedy show from 1960-64. Bentine was one of the original founders of The Goon Show, and Square World is about as off-the-wall as you'd expect.

Tim Considine, who was one of the original My Three Sons, as well as a star of Mickey Mouse Club serials and Disney movies (and was also a photographer and writer) died last week, aged 81. As usual, he gets a respectful writeup from Terence at A Shroud of Thoughts.

I'm a sucker for mid-century stuff, being a little past mid-century myself, and so JB's piece at The Hits Just Keep on Comin' naturally appeals to me: Dean Martin, the pop star. Deano really centers a place and time, doesn't he? (And by the way, much appreciated thanks to JB for the kind words!)

I don't single out video sites as much as I ought to—my focus is on the written word, but my great pleasure derives, of course, from television. And so I want to call to your attention the site Uncle Earl's Classic Television Channel, which has added a lot of new content—more episodes of many of your favorite shows, some mid-centuryish, and some from more recent times. It's really worth your time!

Something else that's worth your time: the latest at Ed Robertson's TV Confidential. I hope you keep track of this podcast on a regular basis, because Ed never has a bad show or a bad guest (except, perhaps for the cast in which I was a guest). Try out his interview with Chuck Harter on why The Untouchables is still riveting today. Because, you know, it is. TV  

Around the dial

It's Christmas in July at Joanna's Christmas TV History, and while you ought to check out all of the entries so far, I'll single out Wednesday's entry from 1958's Cimarron City, with star George Montgomery and special guest star Dinah Shore, aka Mrs. George Montgomery. 

At Comfort TV, David has a very thoughtful piece on how television needs to be an oasis, a break from the increasing lunacy of the real world. This is something I really identify with, and in fact David very kindly mentioned me in his article. But this is a well-written example of why classic television is so different from television today—and oftentimes, for the better.

Remember The Delphi Bureau? Before it became a short-lived series in 1972-73 (as part of the wheel series The Men), it was a 1972 made-for-TV movie, with the terrific Laurence Luckinbill as a spy on the run, and Cameron Mitchell as the baddie out to get him. Rick takes a look at this watchable pilot in this week's Classic Film & TV Café.

I defy anyone—anyone—to resist an episode of any television series with the title "Invasion of the Earthmen." When it's The Avengers, that makes the episode all the more interesting, and John tells us why it isn't anywhere near as bad as some make it out to be, at Cult TV Blog. 

The Untouchables remains one of my favorite series (especially the episodes with Bruce Gordon as Frank Nitti), and this week Television's New Frontier: the 1960s looks at the state of the series as the final season begins in 1962, as well as giving us a fascinating, in-depth look at the show's history and its relationship to the facts.

I don't think I exaggerate when I suggest that "The Hitch-Hiker" is one of the most memorable and most popular of Twilight Zone episodes; at Shadow & Substance, Paul goes in-depth, much as Jack does at bare•bones e-zine, and shows how Rod Serling skillfully adapted Lucille Fletcher's radio play into one of the series' most unsettling dramas. Hint: it's not what he does, but what he doesn't do.

The Twilight Zone was just one of the many series with the good fortune to have had an episode or two directed by Richard Donner, who died this week, aged 91. Although he had great big screen success with movies like The Omen, Superman, Lethal Weapon and Scrooged, he left his mark on television not only with TZ, but shows like Have Gun—Will Travel, Route 66, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Ironside, and so many more. Terence has an appreciation of his career at A Shroud of Thoughts. 

Finally, I'm a little late with this, but July 1 was "Lost TV Day" at Television Obscurities—find out why Robert chose that date, and follow the links to some fascinating posts on an under-appreciated part of television history. I, of course, approve heartily. TV  

Around the dial

Full disclosure: I was never a fan of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Oh, there was a time after the horror of Star Trek V when I thought TNG showed a level of gravitas that the movie sadly lacked; but after about a year, I'd had more than I could take and quit watching. My wife hung in there for another year or so before she did the same. So perhaps I'm not the right person to judge what makes an awful episode of TNG, but you'll still want to check out Rob Bricken's article at Gismodo about the amazing number of terrible episodes the series had while still managing to be good.

At The Ringer, Brian Phillips has a typically thoughtful piece on the fascination that murder holds for us, on television as well as podcasts. As Phillips says, "we can’t ask 'where is murder going?' without also asking 'where are we?'" You'll want to read the rest.

There aren't many entertainment sites more iconic than the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and this week at Comfort TV, David celebrates the classic TV stars who have their star on the Walk—and the many who should have them, but don't.

It's F Troop Friday at The Horn Section, and Hal's focus this week is on the season two episode "Bye, Bye, Balloon," with Harvey Korman as the aptly named balloon expert Colonel Heindrich von Zeppel.

At The Secret Sanctum of Captain Video, it's the exciting conclusion of the Untouchables comic book story "The Conspirators," with comic-book Eliot Ness looking every bit as tough as Robert Stack does on-screen. (For part one, go here.)

The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet is in its tenth season as 1961 rolls around, and that's the focus of the latest Television's New Frontier: The 1960s. Well, that and the transient nature of the Nelson boys' girlfriends.

The bizarre, glorious world of Dark Shadows is the subject of Ivan's musings at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear. There are certainly soaps that have had longer runs (Ivan mentions that Days of Our Lives is headed for season 56), but I don't know of many that are more fondly remembered than the Gothic wonder of Shadows.

Carol looks back at the origins of Bob Crane: The Authorized Biography, especially the need to broadcast the true story of Bob's life in order to counter the distortions of Auto Focus, at Bob Crane: Life and Legacy, You can also catch the latest episode of "Flipside," the podcast hosted by Carol and her co-author, Linda Groundwater.

Finally, Jim Lehrer died yesterday at 85. Like his partner Robert MacNeil, Jim Lehrer was one of the last of the old-time reporters on network news; whether or not you agreed with the opinions on The MacNeil/Lehrer Report, it was always a stimulating show, one with the gravitas that's completely gone from network news today, not to mention the rest of television.

Where will this week's TV Guide take us? Tune in tomorrow and find out. TV  

Around the dial

Just a word that I'll be out most of next week, on assignment for my job. We'll have the usual material while I'm gone, thanks to the wonders of technology, but it does mean that I won't be "live" very often next week. I'm trusting you all to play nice while I'm gone. I'll leave a reminder while I'm gone, because I know what short attention spans people have; by Wednesday, you might have forgotten I said anything about being away.

Now, what was I talking about? That's right, the week in classic TV blogging. Well, let's start with this piece from Carol at Bob Crane: Life and Legacy, which doubles as a reminder of the terrific podcast Flipside: The True Story of Bob Crane (see the sidebar for the link), and gives us a peek at a part of his career that many people forget about: his groundbreaking success in radio.

At Comfort TV, David takes a closer look at a rare beast nowadays, but a staple of the Comfort TV-era: the two-part episode. Some of them contain more padding than Joan Crawford's shoulder pads, but occasionally you'll run across a story that simply couldn't be told in a mere hour.

I've read about the British series Gideon's Way, and I have to confess that every time I run across the title I have to stop myself from confusing it with Gideon's Trumpet, the stirring story behind the landmark Supreme Court case that mandated states must provide an attorney free of charge to any criminal defendant who can't afford one. At any rate, John from Cult TV Blog is here to set me straight this week, with a review of the Gideon's Way episode "The Firebug."

I must admit that it never even occurred to me to think there was a link between Christmas and the horror classic The Curse of the Cat People, which explains why I'm not the Christmas expert here—Joanna is, and she looks at that link this week at Christmas TV History.

Back when television wasn't quite as prestigious as it is today, it was common to see movies adapted into television series; The Farmer's Daughter, for example. Eventually, we came to the point where we had made-for-TV movie adaptations of television series, sometimes as a way to wrap up a storyline, sometimes as a reunion, sometimes just for money. There should be a "don't try this at home" warning that comes with them, though, and if Martin Grams's depiction of the new Banana Splits Movie is any indication, this one should have come before they even considered the idea.

Thanks to MeTV and DVD, I've come to have a great appreciation for The Untouchables, especially any episode featuring Bruce Gordon stealing scenes as Frank Nitti. As we celebrate the 60th anniversary(!) of its premiere, Terence has a good rundown at A Shroud of Thoughts.

Amid the ongoing TV Guide 365 project at Television Obscurities, take a moment to check out the Year in TV Guide look back at the issue of October 14, 1989, with the World Series on the cover. You remember that, don't you? The one interrupted by the earthquake? Let's hope history doesn't repeat itself, eh? TV  

This week in TV Guide: March 11, 1961

We're on a bit of a 1961 kick in our encore series of TV Guides. But who could pass up a chance at an interview with the widow of Eliot Ness?

The Untouchables was perhaps, up to that time, the most violent weekly series ever seen on television, as well as one of the most entertaining. It was ostensibly factual, based on the real-life story of Eliot Ness, the U.S. Treasury agent who did much to break Al Capone's bootlegging operations during Prohibition, and his small group of trusted, incorruptible agents, nicknamed "The Untouchables." Ness' autobiography*, written with Oscar Fraley in 1957, was adapted into a two-part presentation on Desilu Playhouse and became a highly successful weekly series on ABC in 1959, running for four seasons.

*The book might be seen, in today's parlance, as "inspired by actual events." Fraley wrote most of the book, embellishing stories and adding fictional characters to the extent that in the closing credits to The Untouchables, it's referred to as a novel. The 21 pages that Ness himself was responsible for were, for the most part, straightforward and factual. The book was released shortly before Ness' death of a heart attack in 1957 at age 54.

It's inevitable that a show about G-Men battling mobsters would be a rough one; it was not a world for the faint of heart. I have to admit to The Untouchables as one of my favorite shows of the era. It's an entertaining, fast-paced program that doesn't require a great deal of thought, but is a great deal of fun. The bad guys generally get theirs in the end (except for Bruce Gordon's Frank Nitti, who is always foiled but never captured—and a good thing, because Gordon's menacing, yet slightly scene-chewing, performance is a highlight of any episode in which he appears), and the show avoids introducing soap-opera elements into the lives of its leads, the downfall of many a modern series. The level of violence is actually fairly mild at the beginning of the series, but ramps up quickly as it goes on, and it isn't long before we see Ness' men smashing illegal liquor stills, tommy guns blazing, bodies dropping everywhere. In comparison to today's television, though, the violence is milder than a baby's chicken broth.

In a fascinating article (which might well have been ghosted by Fraley, who lived until 1994), Elisabeth Ness reminiscences about her husband, and shares her thoughts on the TV series. She likes Robert Stack's performance as Ness; Stack "has the same quietness of voice, the same gentle quality that characterized Eliot. At times, even Stack's small mannerisms are similar." He's a bit more serious than the real Ness, but she adds that "Mr. Stack has been given less to laugh at than Eliot found in real life."

She's also a fan of the program and never misses it, even though by this time the show has strayed so far from real life that "I no longer know what it will be about." However, even though the stories may be fictional, Mrs. Ness says "they are, in spirit, the same—the enforcement of law and order, the fight against exploitation of the law-abiding members of society, the hunting down of criminals." Eliot's admirers, she says, "should not feel let down."

The real Eliot Ness was quite a figure—charming, vital, charismatic. He was three-times married (Elisabeth was the third and final Mrs. Ness), and—ironically, for a man who made his reputation fighting bootleggers—was a heavy drinker who used to frequent bars and amaze people with his tales of crimefighting. He held a Master's degree in criminology and was one of the first law enforcers to use the lie detector; he helped pioneer the use of two-way radios in police cars; he was an early advocate for civil rights and a crusader against juvenile delinquency. He was a fan of art, the theater and ballet—but also boats, cars and the Indy 500. All in all, quite a remarkable man.

Most of all, Elisabeth Ness writes, Eliot should be remembered as a man of integrity and principle, an independent thinker, and a man who "was a practical do-gooder." He enforced the law, but "never tried to reform the world."

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So what's on this week? On Saturday, Lawrence Welk gets a leg up on Friday's St. Patrick's celebration with the regular cast saluting the big day. (8:30 p.m., ABC; joined in progress on WTCN*) There's no Sullivan vs. The Palace this week, as The Hollywood Palace is still just a glimmer in the eye of some television executive. Ed's guests this week, in case you're wondering, are (in a tribute to St. Patrick's Day) musical comedy star Tammy Grimes, actor Pat O'Brien, Irish tenor Brendan O'Dowda and the Clancy brothers with Tommy Maken, folk-singing group, and Irish harpist Mary O'Hara.

*WTCN joins Welk after its live coverage of the Mrs. Minnesota coronation. The winner, 36 year-old Gloria Schultz, will move on to the Mrs. America pageant at Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Read here for the fascinating, colorful history of the Mrs. America pageant.

Sunday is another day for the wearin' of the green; following Sullivan, The Chevy Show (8:00 p.m., NBC) presents Art Carney in the musical comedy "O'Halloran's Luck," a color special also starring the Baird Marionettes. Carney portrays the aforementioned O'Halloran, an ebullient Irishman heading for America, confident that his Irish luck will help him find fame and fortune; the leprechaun marionettes, however, plan on keeping O'Halloran's luck right here on the emerald isle.

Monday features Howard Duff as Willie Dante, a former gambler turned nightclub owner who insists he's gone straight, in the very likable series Dante (8:30 p.m., NBC). It ran for just one season, but you can find quite a few episodes on YouTube; it's worth your time to see what you think of it. Also on Monday night: the final episode of what surely must be one of the saddest programs in television history, Jackpot Bowling Starring Milton Berle (9:30 p.m., ABC). Ten years ago, Milton Berle was "Mr. Television," the biggest star in the business, and NBC signed him to a 30-year contract; now, with NBC looking to burn off his contract, he's reduced to doing his act at a bowling alley. If that isn't sad, historically speaking, I don't know what is.

Thriller is a much-loved show of very uneven quality; Tuesday night's episode (8:00 p.m., NBC) presents a trio of short stories, all directed by Ida Lupino. In addition to sitting behind the camera, she stars in Act I; one of the stars of Act II is none other than Ebenezer Scrooge himself, Reginald Owen. After that, you can switch over to Garry Moore's show (9:00 p.m., CBS), where his guests are singers Dorothy Collins and Steve Lawrence and comedian Bob Lewis.

Wednesday's Wagon Train (6:30 p.m., NBC) sets up the future of the series; Robert Horton is the feature player in the wake of star Ward Bond's death, but in this week's "The Christopher Hale Story," we're introduced to the man who will become the new wagonmaster, John McIntire. Meanwhile, the train deals with the man who's wagonmaster this week: Lee Marvin. Wonder how that works out. Following that, Perry Como's Kraft Music Hall (8:00 p.m., NBC) features actor Don Amache and his old Bickersons sidekick, singer Frances Langford.

On Thursday, Richard Basehart stars in the Rudyard Kipling story "The Light That Failed" on Breck Family Classics (7:00 p.m., CBS) as a painter struggling with going blind; Ernie Ford welcomes singer Gordon MacRae to his show (8:30 p.m., NBC); and Edward R. Murrow profiles a "Pilot for the Peace Corps" on CBS Reports (9:00 p.m.).

Friday rounds out the week, and on an eclectic episode of the Bell Telephone Hour (8:00 p.m., NBC), it's "Much Ado About Music," an exploration of music inspired by William Shakespeare, with Shakespeare expert (and frequent host of science shows) Dr. Frank Baxter hosting an hour featuring opera stars Patrice Munsel and Joan Sutherland, musical theater star Alfred Drake, ballet dancers Violette Verdy and Jacque d'Ambroise, and Sir John Gielgud with dramatic readings. Not bad, if you ask me.

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We haven't looked at starlets for a while, and as if to make up for it, we have two this week. First up is Asa Maynor, "an up-and-coming TV actress," who will have a brief career and a marriage to 77 Sunset Strip's Edd Byrnes, before retiring become an executive at NBC and interior decorator.

And then there is the other, Lee Remick, who's in the process of making a pretty good career for herself. She's in a temporary "retirement" right now, awaiting the birth of her second child with her husband, TV director William Colleran. It might be wrong to think of her as a starlet; even though she's only 25, she's already a television veteran, having appeared on everything from Hallmark Hall of Fame to Kraft Theatre, Playhouse 90, and Studio One. She's also got a formidable movie career, starting in Budd Schulberg's A Face in the Crowd and reaching its peak with her memorable role as Laura Manion in Anatomy of a Murder, for which she won a Golden Globe award.

"I haven't been very wholesome in my movies," says the woman described in the unbylined article as "as conservative as Herbert Hoover." "Perhaps that's because, in my early television parts, I was just so absolutely wholesome, people would practically gag at the sight of me." Mind you, she's not complaining; "Television gave me my first real break." But then there was that Studio One in which she was cast, as usual, as "the sappy little girl next door." Her costume, she says, "was a little tight and I guess I wiggled. From then on I was doomed." And viewers would forevermore be charmed.

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Better to see the President with?

Is the President overexposed? That's the question the "For the Record" section asks. On Sunday, February 26, JFK appeared on the premiere of the CBS documentary series Accent, where he discussed fellow New Englander Robert Frost. On Tuesday night, he was the subject of the NBC White Paper JFK: Report No. 1. Wednesday saw all three networks carry taped coverage of his press conference. (This was prior to the live televised pres conference.) Thursday he was on that Life magazine anniversary special I referenced a couple of weeks ago. He was also seen throughout the week in taped appeals for the Red Cross. Today, regardless of who the President is, I'm sure people of all parties would be relieved if he only appeared this often.

Speaking of current events, the New York TV Teletype advises us that the National Aeronautics and Space Administration has alerted networks of "a probable attempt to launch a man into space from Cape Canaveral in early spring." They speak of a suborbital flight, about 250 miles downrange—the same flight plan that was recently followed by the chimpanzee Ham. That launch, with American astronaut Alan Shepard, comes on May 5, 1961.

NBC's The Nation's Future plans a debate between movie producers Dore Schary and Otto Preminger on the subject "Should the movie industry be forced to classify its films?" The show (which eventually aired on April 29) had Hollywood bad-boy Preminger arguing that movies should be rated, but that the film's producer should be the one responsible for the rating, and that the government should have no involvement whatsoever. Schary thought ratings were a bad idea—after all, what producer would want to classify a film as "not suitable for children." To Schary's thought, such a rating would offer no difference between a pornographic film and one that was simply worthy of mature viewing. Which is, in essence what we've wound up with both the X rating and the NC-17, which most producers regard as the kiss of death.

Finally, "if a sponsor can be lined up," ABC plans to debut its Saturday sports anthology program on April 29, with a bullfight from Seville, Spain. The show did indeed debut on April 29, but instead of the bullfight, it carried live coverage of the Penn and Drake relays. And thus was the start of ABC's Wide World of Sports.

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Back on February 16, ABC Close-Up presented a documentary on the first week of school integration in New Orleans. Entitled "The Children Were Watching," it was, by all accounts, a pretty unsparing look at the anger and racism expressed by the parents of schoolchildren, while those very children watched and learned the attitudes of their parents. That provoked the following letter to the editor from Mrs. John R. Lepak of Santa Ana, California:

The first time I saw a Negro was when I was seven. In fact, it was my seventh birthday - the day my home town was liberated from the Nazis. He gave me the most precious birthday present a person could receive. At the time, I thought the candy he gave me was the best present I ever had. But, of course, now I realize he gave me my freedom, which is by far more precious. So why can't people, like the people in Little Rock and New Orleans, give the Negro his freedom?  I hope that programs like "The Children Were Watching" will continue and open the eyes of people so they can take a good look at themselves. I'm sure they'll be shocked.

That was only 58 years ago, as I write this. Back then, schools like Duke University prohibited black students from enrolling (a situation Duke wouldn't rectify until 1962). A few years ago, Duke proudly commemorated 50 years of integration, and while it's laudable, perhaps if they'd spent a little more time looking at themselves, as Mrs. Lepak suggests, instead of the color of their student body—well, perhaps change would have come a lot earlier. I wonder, if they could watch this documentary today, if they would see themselves still in the images? TV  

Around the dial

I remember, back in the days when one really had to frequent stores specializing in fantasy and/or British TV, reading about The Tomorrow People. I've never seen an episode. Cult TV Blog tells how it took two tries for him to become hooked on the series.

Spin and Marty - where have I heard those names before? That's it - The Mickey Mouse Club. I remember watching what must have been reruns of those when I was little, having the ears and the watch and the Colorforms kit, but I hadn't thought to read more into them than that until reading David's latest at Comfort TV, wherein he asks if they might have something of value for millennials.

For some reason I've seen a number of things about Glen Campbell's variety show from the '60s - maybe it's because of the singer's poor health, maybe it's just nostalgia for a simpler time. For Joanna at Christmas TV History, it's an occasion to recall the 1969 Christmas episode with Andy Griffith, Cher and Paul Lynde (as a stressed-out Santa). Perhaps I ought to watch it this Christmas?

We haven't looked in on Classic TV Showbiz lately, but this week's entry is a good one - a clip from Match Game host Gene Rayburn sitting in for Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show. I loved the whole concepts of guest hosts on talk shows, because some of them were so unlikely to think of, but were very successful. I wouldn't have imagined Rayburn in the chair, but I wouldn't have imagined what a successful host he was of NBC's Monitor radio program either.

It's time for a new entry on Television's New Frontier: the 1960s, and this one is about one of my favorite shows, The Untouchables. It's a good review of the 1961 season, particularly good when it comes to running down the distinguished list of guest stars: not only the great Bruce Gordon as Frank Nitti, but Oscar Beregi, Neville Brand (as Al Capone), Rip Torn, Gavin McLeod (!), Brian Keith and Joan Blondell. That's just for starters; the show was gifted with a brilliant list of guest.

In the latest look at "The Hitchcock Project," bare-bones e-zine reviews the clever Robert C. Dennis-scripted story "Together," which aired on Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1958. Having seen this episode on DVD a few weeks ago, I can second Jack's analysis of the story as "an outstanding short film, where a strong, tight script, clever direction and fine acing combine to present a story of suspense." If you have the chance to see it, do so; if not, this will convince you why you should. TV  

Don't mess with the Men from U.N.C.L.E., and other Friday night fun

As some of you might recall, last summer I started what I thought would be a nice little project to fill some time - sharing with you the classic TV lineups we watch in the evening. Unlike many, we don't binge-watch shows, nor do we tend to watch the same shows every night. No, being the anal person I am, we have a set lineup for the three or four nights a week when we just relax from the pressures of daily life and settle down to an evening of retro TV.

Well, you can see how well that worked. I finished Saturday and Sunday, and even then I'd abandoned the idea of profiling each show, instead doing the Sunday night lineup in one fell swoop. And then the whole thing just kind of went away, as I found other things more pressing - or should I say interesting? - to write about. In time, I forgot the idea altogether.

But, lo and behold, I find myself today with nothing particular to write about, and - lo and behold - the idea came to me. Why not just finish what you've started for once? I couldn't really argue with that logic, so here's another look into our viewing habits - this time for Fridays.


The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
During one of my frequent times of underemployment, when I was temping while between permanent jobs, I got an email from Deep Discount announcing their Deal of the Day. It was a boxed set of The Man From U.N.C.L.E., complete in the fake attaché case, for something like forty bucks. Well, even though we were really trying to avoid big expenditures while we were were living under a reduced income, that seemed too good to pass up. Other people apparently thought so as well, because when I clicked on the button, the set was already on back order. It did come eventually, and found a place leading off the Friday night lineup.

I never much watched U.N.C.L.E. when it was originally on, and I'm not sure why. I remember once being grumpy about there being nothing on TV, and my mother suggesting I watch that. I did, but I don't think I got much out of it. I was aware of it, of course, what with the books and games and comics and other tie-ins, but it didn't have a whole lot of appeal to me. Of course, by the time I picked it up, I was ready for it - it was firmly entrenched in the classic TV oeuvre, and right about in the middle of the timeframe to which I increasingly found myself attracted. I knew all about the disastrous third season, when the show ratcheted the camp level up to 11 or 12 to compete with Batman, but while there were a lot of stinkers in that season, it was still fun.

I've never been a big Robert Vaughn fan; to me, he epitomizes the word "smarmy," but he turns out to be perfect for Napoleon Solo - once the producers realized the appeal of David McCallum's Illya Kuryakin, that is. McCallum's serious nature and ruthless edge balanced Vaughn's oily charm well, so that even when they were stuck in the most ridiculous situations (think "The My Friend the Gorilla Affair"), they were a winning team. By the shortened fourth season, when the show was finally cancelled, the turn to more serious storylines was an effective one, and it's too bad it wasn't tried earlier; we might at least have gotten a complete season out of it.

In short, it's a great show to kick off a Friday night.


The Saint

Vincent Price played him on the radio, and George Sanders and (more recently) Val Kilmer (!) played him on the big screen, but for my money, there's only one Simon Templar, and that's Roger Moore.

It's tempting, and fun, to look at this as Moore's tryout for James Bond, but this is a show that should be enjoyed on its own merits. Simon Templar, professional thief turned Good Samaritan (and occasional Avenging Angel) is a fascinating character, particularly in the black-and-white episodes, when he comes across as a good deal more ruthless than most TV heroes of the time. He seldom gets ambushed from behind, he rarely ever gets taken in by a femme fatale, and whenever the plot takes a twist you didn't see coming, he already seems to have been two or three steps ahead.

A word about that ruthless streak: looking back to the original source material for the series, the novels by Leslie Charteris, we see that Templar is often cast as someone trying to right a past wrong, and that he's not above killing those he refers to as the "ungodly" in his pursuit of justice. That side of The Saint is toned down a bit in the color episodes, when the show starts to take on a more Bondian feel, but it's definitely there in the early episodes.

Personally, I can't think of anyone other than Roger Moore in this role. He's smooth and suave, dryly humorous, confident in the extreme (if I could bottle a tenth of that confidence and use it myself, I'd be home free), and always surrounded by beautiful women. He'd be a charming dinner companion, and definitely a man to have on your side, but would you want to cross him in a dark alley when you'd been up to something you shouldn't have been? Not on your life.


The Untouchables

I'm convinced the writers on this series must have loved writing for Frank Nitti, the character played so well by Bruce Gordon. Whenever Nitti makes one of his occasional appearances as Eliot Ness' nemesis, Al Capone's enforcer while Scarface is in prison, he threatens to overshadow the entire cast. He always gets the best lines (impatiently watching Telly Savalas' scheme to transport illegal booze by running it through an underground piping system, Nitti snarles, "If there ain't booze coming out of them three holes, Pete's gonna put three holes in each of you."), and often has the air about him of a put-upon executive having to deal with underlings who just don't have the smarts to get the job done. It's a magnificent job of nibbling around the edges of the scenery while preserving a sense of real menace.

Of course, you have to have a protagonist for a show like this to work, and Robert Stack's redoubtable Ness is perfect. Yes, he's wooden in the role, but that's the way Ness should be played. As is typical of the era, you seldom see Ness at home; aside from the fact that he's married and has a child (shown in the two-part pilot), you never know anything about his personal life. He's mostly humorless, but has inspired great loyalty among his team of Untouchables because of his personal dedication and honesty.

Who am I kidding, though. The main appeal of The Untouchables, at least for the first couple of seasons, is the unbridled violence. Almost every episode ends in a huge shootout with the bad guys being filled full of lead before flamboyantly pirouetting to their deaths, often with their own machine guns still blaring. Virtually every car chase ends in an explosion, preferably crashing into a vat full of booze, which in turn produces another explosion. People were horrified at the time, which is one reason why it was such a big hit. Today, the violence looks tepid compared to what we've grown accustomed to, but for the time, it was sensational. Because of pressure from Congress and public interest groups, it gets toned down, much to the show's detriment.

The Untouchables won't receive any history awards, and it may not be included in any Golden Age of Television. It's just fun.


Route 66
I've mentioned before that this is the first series that I've ever dropped from our regular rotation. I've revived it in the last month, partly because we're still in the third (of four) seasons and already have the discs, and partly because thanks to Shout! Factory, we'll be able to watch the final season without having to buy them.

Route 66 was always preachy, thanks in no small part to Sterling Silliphant (who, nonetheless, could still uncork a doozy of a script on occasion), and this story of two young men (Martin Milner and George Maharis) driving a Corvette around the country in search of adventure and the meaning of life, provides what James Lileks would call an "inadvertent documentary" on America in the late '50s and early '60s. It's a time when America was still a nation that produced things, when ethnic neighborhoods still existed in most large cities, when someone could still make a living using their hands, when college degrees weren't used as a gatekeeper for even the most minor job. It's a wonderful look at the architecture of the time, at how America was still, for the most part, a regional nation full of dialects and quirks and everything we think of when we talk about a "melting pot."

Milner and Maharis, as Tod Stiles and Buz Murdoch, make for a great team of opposites. Tod's the idealist, the college educated young man with a penchant for thinking he can save the world one person at a time; Buz's education came from the streets, the school of hard knocks. He grew up in an orphanage, has seen the other side of life, knows that there aren't always easy answers. Of the two, he's the more likable, the one it's easier to identify with. When he leaves the series midway through the third season, he's replaced by Vietnam vet Linc Case, whose quiet, often thoughtful demeanor is too much like Tod's to provide the contrast required.

In fact, Tod really got on my nerves after awhile, which is why I wound up putting the show on hiatus for a couple of years. Every episode became a crusade of sorts, trying to change someone (especially a lovely female), increasingly settling things with his fists, falling in love too quickly, sticking around and becoming involved while you're shouting at the screen, "run, run away fast, these people are crazy!" I know they're looking for adventure, but sometimes enough is enough. And that's too bad, because I think Martin Milner was by far the most likable person in the cast; Tod just rubs me the wrong way. Linc's started to grow on me a bit since resuming the series; still, I won't deny that I'll be glad to see them reach the end of the road.

Waiting in the wings: Naked City (replacing The Saint), The Eleventh Hour (replacing The Untouchables)

Recently concluded: The Avengers


Next up: Thursday, if I remember to get around to it!