March 11, 2014

We Interrupt This Week, 1978

What we have here is that rarity, a program that proves PBS has a sense of humor.

The show in question is We Interrupt This Week, and it was the first game show to be broadcast on Public Television.  I don't think that's really a big deal - when I became a fan of it, during its single season of 1978, I didn't care if it was PBS' one-hundredth game show.  What mattered was that it was thirty minutes of witty, erudite humor.  It came during my PBS/British phase, when I'd discovered the charms of both British programming (The Prisoner, Monty Python) and PBS as a refugee from the single commercial television channel I endured in the world's worst town.

We Interrupt This Week was a mock game show that was hosted by the BBC's Ned Sherrin, who was perhaps the closest host I've seen to John Daly.  (I also loved his word pronounciations.)  It started out, if I'm remembering correctly, as a monthly program called, appropriately, We Interrupt This Month.  When it met with surprising success, it became a weekly series and changed its title accordingly.

I called it a mock game show, but I'm not sure that's either accurate or fair.  The two teams, made up of media celebrities of one extent or another*, did play the game for real, and did score points that, in the end, would determine the winning team.  And the questions were legit, if often ridiculous. The scorekeeping was slightly less capricious than that on another British import, Whose Line is it Anyway?, though Sherrin did echo Clive Anderson with his pronouncement at the beginning of each show that "My decisions will be arbitrary, prejudiced and final."

*In the original monthly version, the sides were called the "Home" team and the "Home Away From Home" team.  When the show started its weekly run, the teams were simply labeled "Home" and "Visitor" or "Guest."  That "Home Away From Home" moniker tells you a lot about the show's sense of humor.

It was great fun seeing celebrities not always known for having senses of humor* - Jeff Greenfield, Richard Reeves - in a battle of wits not only with the other team but with the sardonic Sherrin, who in the tradition of quiz hosts always managed to have the best lines.  As far as I can tell, this is the only recording of the program - at least it's the only one I could find, so I'll let you be the judge.  It's been a long time since I've seen this show - I was reminded of it by running across it in last week's TV Guide listing - but I find it holds up just as I'd remembered it, if you can put yourself back into the headlines from 1978.

*It also showed which of them were smarter - or perhaps stupider - than you thought.  Watch this and judge for yourself.

March 8, 2014

This week in TV Guide: March 18, 1961

Perhaps no star demonstrates the change in popular culture over the last 60 or so years more than Ingrid Bergman.

In 1950 there were fewer stars bigger than Bergman, who had appeared in a string of hits including Intermezzo, Casablanca, Joan of Arc and The Bells of St. Mary's, and had won an Academy Award as Best Actress for Gaslight. At the height of her fame, she then became involved in a scandal: an affair with director Roberto Rossellini (they were both married to other people at the time) which left her pregnant, and her reputation in tatters. Her adultery got her denounced on the floor of the U.S. Senate (as "a horrible example of womanhood") and disinvited from The Ed Sullivan Show, and she remained in something of an exile even after winning her second Oscar in 1958 for Anastasia. It wasn't until 1958, when she made a triumphant appearance as a presenter at the Oscarcast, that she returned to the American spotlight, and even then the lengthy ovation she received from the audience was controversial; some felt it amounted to a tacit endorsement of her past behavior.

This week, Bergman prepares for a rare television appearance, in the drama Twenty-Four Hours in a Woman's Life* on CBS Monday night. Gilbert Millstein's profile only alludes to that scandal, remarking that "in the last two decades, she has been successively praised, blamed, boycotted, picked over, analyzed, adjured, sympathized with, litigated over and clasped once more to the public breast without any noticeable erosion." Bergman herself says that "Everybody feels that you belong to them. I would have liked to have my own problems in peace, but it was not to be and I could not change any of it." Having played a nun in The Bells of St. Mary's and a saint in Joan of Arc led people to view her not as a woman, but through the prism of the roles she played.

*Written by John Mortimer, better known as the creator of Rumpole of the Bailey.

SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION
And that is just one of the ways in which we see the massive cultural changes over these years. It's hard to imagine, for example, that the public, cynical as they now are, would feel so betrayed by an actress' personal life. For that matter, adultery itself doesn't have the cache it used to, Tiger Woods notwithstanding. The old saying, "there's no such thing as bad publicity" seems to be more true now than ever. Hugh Grant's indiscretion a few years ago was played mostly for laughs, and probably helped Jay Leno's career more than anything else. With the advent of reality television to go along with the fanmags, embarrassment and public ostracism are things of the past.

The fallout over Ingrid Bergman's scandal was probably excessive (didn't the Senate have anything better to do?) but it came from a period in time when there was a common moral code, a sense of right and wrong that was generally accepted by a majority of the public. If people lacked charity in their reaction, it could be said that their hearts might have been in the right place.

Ultimately, though, it's time to live and let live. Ingrid Bergman, her elegance and her talent, are back—and we're the more fortunate for it.

***

Preempted by the Bergman special on Monday is The Danny Thomas Show, and here we have another example of how things have changed, albeit a smaller, less monumental one. It has to do with our cover girl, Marjorie Lord, co-star of the Thomas show, and its origin goes all the way back to 1956.

In that year, Jean Hagen quit the Thomas show, then known as Make Room for Daddy. For the show's first three seasons Hagen had played Margaret Williams, wife of Thomas' character Danny Williams. But Hagen had tired of the role, and of Thomas*, and took a hike. She was written out as having died, and the show's fourth season concerned Danny's search for a new wife. Enter Lord, who as nurse Kathy O'Hara quickly captured the hearts of Danny and his kids. At the end of that fourth season, the two were engaged.

*Rumor has it that so great was the antipathy between the two, Thomas (who also produced the show) refused to put the Hagen episodes into syndication once the series had accumulated enough to comprise a successful package.

Typically, this would have set up an episode surrounding the wedding, perhaps to kick off the new season—a sure-fire ratings winner that would have been heralded as the television "event of the year," or some such nonsense. Shows from The Farmer's Daughter to Get Smart to Andy Griffith to Rhoda and beyond* have played that chestnut. But not in this case. No, as the fifth season started, Danny and Kathy were already married, and looking for a bigger place to live.

*Not to mention Luke and Laura.

I don't know why that decision was made (perhaps some of you out there do), but I approve wholeheartedly. I've never liked the cloying sentimentality that accompanies those "very special episodes"; when I was a kid (just to prove to you how warped my childhood was), I used to envision Andy Griffith's marriage to Helen being broken up by some kind of air raid by a foreign power. Why the Soviets would choose to invade some hick town in North Carolina is beside the point; what matters (besides the fact that I had the Legos and the model airplane bombers to play it all out) is that I derived great satisfaction from seeing everyone's plans laid to waste.

Anyway, we read that the ratings for the Thomas show skyrocketed following the introduction of Lord as his wife, so perhaps he figured the show didn't need to resort to the gimmick of a wedding episode. Whatever the reason, the idea of a program passing up that kind of a ratings bonanza is something we're not likely to see happen in television today.

***

Let's stick with Monday for a moment more, because if you plan on watching Bergman, you're going to have to pass up two other programs that, in our pre-DVR era, you might never see again. The first one, a novelty more than anything else, is The Play of the Week's presentation of "archy and mehitabel," starring Eddie Bracken and Tammy Grimes. archy and mehitabel (lower case intentional*) were the creation of Don Marquis, a columnist for the New York Evening Sun, and charmed readers from the beginning. archy is "a cockroach with the soul of a poet," or as TV Guide puts it, "a flair for free verse," and his sidekick mehitabel is an ally cat "with a penchant for free love." Together, the two of them have charmed readers ever since with their light poetry and whimsical stories. Carol Channing costarred with Bracken in the original musical production, and a Broadway version, Shinbone Alley, featured Eartha Kitt as mehitabel (no doubt an audition for her later appearance as Catwoman), with dialogue written by Mel Brooks.

*archy would "type" the stories of their adventures, leaping from key to key on a typewriter. Since he was unable to operate the shift key, everything appeared in lower case.

If you'd rather wait to get your singing cats from, well, Cats, then you might prefer Bing Crosby's latest special at 8:30pm CT on ABC. Der Bingle is in France, and his guests include Maurice Chevalier (naturally), tenor Aldo Monaco, and singer-dancer Carol Lawrence. It's sometimes odd to think of Crosby on television in anything other than a Christmas special, but of course he did a lot of specials throughout the season, and Christmas, as we know, comes but once a year.

Don't see anything to watch yet? Then try The Barbara Stanwyck Show at 9pm on NBC. This is a single-season anthology series hosted by Stanwyck, who also starred in almost every episode. It was released on DVD a few years ago, and while it's not a great show, it's pretty good, and Stanwyck wins a Best Actress Emmy for it. Tonight's episode is "Adventure on Happiness Street," with Stanwyck as the only recurring character in the series, import-export tycoon Josephine Little. It is said that the Little character, who appeared in three of the series' 36 episodes, is intended to star in a spin-off series that never comes to pass. It is a typical Stanwyck character: tough, intelligent, strong, not in the mood to take much guff, but with a sensitive side underneath all that. Although Stanwyck doesn't get a chance to develop Josephine Little into a series, she will return in a few years with another tough character: Victoria Barkley in The Big Valley.

Finally, CBS follows the Bergman special with its 30-minute anthology series of its own, The June Allison Show. (And when was the last time a network scheduled a half-hour program in the 9:30 time slot?) Tonight's feature, "The Secret Life of James Thurber" starring Orson Bean as cartoonist John Monroe (a stand-in for Thurber), is notable in that a few years later the Monroe character returns, played by William Windom, in NBC's My World and Welcome to It. I've always had a fondness for that title, acting as it was as the inspiration for the original title of the motherblog.

***

Enough of Monday, you say. Wasn't there anything else going on the rest of the week? Well, let's see.

Ever heard of a series called Follow That Man? It ran on several networks from 1949 through 1956, and starred Ralph Bellamy as private eye Mike Barnett.* I've seen some episodes on DVD; it's pretty good. Not great, but not a waste of time either; Bellamy's almost always worth watching. Anyway, it pops up in syndication frequently in the TV Guides of this era, usually on a Monday-Friday weekday strip. In this case, it's on weekdays at 1pm on independent Channel 9.

*One of his sidekicks in the early years was Robert Preston. Professor Harold Hill himself!

As is the show preceding it, the sitcom Willy. (Not to be confused with Free Willy, according to Wikipedia. As if.) It stars June Havoc as a lady lawyer from New Hampshire now living and working in NYC. It only ran for one season; I confess I've not heard of it before, and I imagine part of the hook of the show must have been the female attorney angle.

With a name like Hadley, he just has to be good
And then, just to round out Channel 9's pre-matinee movie block, there's Racket Squad, starring Reed (no relation) Hadley as a San Francisco detective busting crime rackets. (And you thought it was about tennis, right?) It also ran for a few years in the early 50s; I've seen a couple of episodes of it, too, but as much as I wanted to like it I just couldn't get into it.

Follow That Man and Racket Squad come as part of Mill Creek's Best of TV Detectives set, and if you can find it for less than $10, it's worth picking up. Most of the shows are fairly forgettable, but there are a number of small treasures in there, including a number of 50s Dragnet episodes, David Janssen as Richard Diamond, and Beverly Garland in Decoy, a precursor to Police Woman. As a sampler package, you're going to find that one or two episodes will give you your fill of most of these series.

One series that did leave me wanting more was, surprisingly, Michael Shayne, which aired on NBC Friday nights at 9pm. It starred Richard Denning, who had been in Mr. and Mrs. North and would go on to play the governor in Hawaii Five-O, as a tough but suave private detective in Miami. I wrote about Michael Shayne, and Denning in general, a couple of years ago, and I had occasion to see another of the few available episodes a week or two back. Perhaps it was because I had low expectations that I enjoyed Shayne; it certainly isn't the greatest PI show ever made, but Denning is winning and the whole thing is fun. (Plus, I'm a sucker for private detectives wearing suits and pocket hankies.) There are more episodes out there on the grey market, but not, alas the complete single season that it ran.

***

A quick sports note: on Saturday afternoon NBC presents an opening-round game in the NIT basketball tournament, from Madison Square Garden in New York. There was a time when the NIT was a very big deal; in the early days of college basketball it was more prestigious than the NCAA tournament, and even after the latter became the undisputed crowner of the national champion, the NIT remained a significant title well into the '60s.

One of the main reasons for the NIT's status was that that, in those days, the NCAA tournament was not the massive 68-team event it is today. In 1961 the NCAA field was probably 22 or 24 teams, all of them either conference champions or independent at-large teams, which meant there were a lot of very good sides left out. Hence, the NIT. In 1961, twelve teams made up the field for the tournament, which was played out over a week or so at the Garden, an attraction in and of itself. The two teams playing in this first-round game, Providence (20-5)* and DePaul (17-7), likely would both make the NCAAs today with those kinds of records. But when the big tournament is more selective, the smaller tournament prospers. After all, when the humans are eating filet mignon, the scraps fed to the dogs are still going to be pretty good.

*Providence, in fact, goes on to win the tournament, defeating Saint Louis in the final 62-59.

***

And finally, the U.S. Steel Hour features Oscar winner Shirley Booth in what was then a rare television appearance, in the play "Welcome Home." The plot line:

Charles and Laura Austin have been planning a trip through Europe for a long time. But they'll have to sell the house to raise the money. And if the house goes, so does Jenny Libbott (Shirley Booth), their maid-cook-governess and companion for 25 years.

Don't worry, Shirley. If the Austins dump you, I know the Baxters will be only too happy to take you on. TV  

March 6, 2014

US-USSR hockey, 1960 Winter Olympics

A little late with this perhaps, but I just ran across this footage today: CBS' coverage of the first period of the US - USSR hockey game at the 1960 Winter Olympics in Squaw Valley, CA, with - I believe - Bud Palmer at the mic for the play-by-play.  (There are several versions available; this one appears to be the complete game.)

A few observations: first, Bud Palmer isn't exactly an unbiased announcer, is he?  But I always enjoyed listening to his work.

As was the case with the 1980 Miracle on Ice, this isn't the gold medal game; the medals were decided based on the overall record of the teams in the medal round.  The US finished with a perfect 5-0 record in that round, followed by Canada at 4-1, and the Soviet Union at 2-2-1.  The US actually clinched the gold with their 9-4 victory over Czechoslovakia the next day.  (By the way, the corners on the ice surface are really deep, aren't they?  It makes the rink look almost rectangular.)

And did you notice the sunshine streaming across parts of the ice and the crowd?  Olympic regulations of the time required all events to be held outside (or, more precisely, they couldn't be held "under a roof"); thus, Blyth Arena  was constructed with one complete side open (the one facing the camera).  The Olympic rings were attached via cables, and ropes were hung down in an effort to cut down on the sun's glare on the ice.  I don't know how you all feel about it, but I think it's kind of neat.  And with the success of the NHL's Winter Classic, why not have all the skating events outside?  The arena in Cortina for the 1956 games did this to great effect.*

*Not to mention its appearance in the James Bond movie For Your Eyes Only.


Al Michaels, eat your heart out!


Cross-posted to Our Word and Welcome to It.

March 4, 2014

Lucky Us

The Lucky Strike Papers: Journeys Through My Mother's Television Past
by Andrew Lee Fielding
(BearManor Media, 264 pages, $22.58 paperback)

When it comes to books about the world of classic television, readers can be forgiven for feeling they're walking into a minefield.  Some books are little more than glorified fanzines that capably demonstrate the author's enthusiasm for his subject but can be painful to read; others are dry scholarly tombs that give readers all the facts (and I do mean all), but little of the fun behind them; there are episode guides that offer little insight into what makes a television series special; and there are those that somehow manage to completely remove an era from its cultural context.

Happily, The Lucky Strike Papers is none of these.

What it is is a charming, affectionate survey of a particular time in the history of both America and television, with Andrew Lee Fielding as our tour guide.  It's partly a biography of the author's mother, singer Sue Bennett, who appeared on several television series during the 50s and 60s, but it's much more than that.  By taking Ms. Bennett's career as his starting point, Andrew Fielding takes us through post-war America, and gives us a colorful look at the nascent television industry and some of its milestone characters and programs.

In case you haven't noticed yet, I liked this book.  A lot.

Remember those pitfalls I mentioned at the beginning?  Well, the reason The Lucky Strike Papers doesn't fall into any of them is because Fielding is a writer who knows how to tell a compelling story, bringing to life people as varied as bandleader Kay Kyser, who brought his Kollege of Musical Knowledge to radio and television before becoming a Christian Science practitioner; future talk-show hosts Merv Griffin and Mike Douglas, who performed with Sue Bennett and remembered her fondly; Snooky Lanson and Russell Arms, with whom Bennett sang on Your Hit Parade, the legendary program sponsored by Lucky Strike cigarettes (hence the book's title), and many more.

In doing so, Fielding avoids the mistake that so many writers make when they're too close to their subject - he's given us not a rote recitation of his mother's career in every detail, nor a loving hagiography, but an adventure through a stunningly exciting time in the history of media, with Bennett's television career as the impetus that guides us through various milestones while giving us a real look at the context in which these adventures take place.  We make stops in cramped television studios, vast theaters converted for use by the new medium, the early technical wizardry of location shooting, and even the use of the famed ocean liner United States as a floating set for Hit Parade.  And this tells us so much more about the world of the 50s, when popular music told stories, when transatlantic travel was the epitome of glamour, and when Americans learned about the miracle that allowed flashing images to enter their living rooms.

In other words, this is right up my alley.

I find it interesting that reading books about television can often be more informative than watching television itself.  Programs on the history of TV sometimes devolve into a kind of home movie - and people of my age still remember the stab in the pits of our stomachs when the next-door neighbors invite us over to see the movies from their recent vacation.  Books, on the other hand, can only capture still photos, snapshots of a specific moment frozen in time, and they have to rely on words to fill in the rest.

And Fielding does this with a style that I found very enjoyable to read.  It's not only well-written, but Fielding has a distinctive approach, using a narrative voice that's almost quasi-documentary in tone.  It's very effective, giving the reader the sense of flipping through the pages of a scrapbook and reading the captions written on the backs of pictures.  In doing so, he generates a warmth not only for the age, but for the people participating in it.  He makes it come alive, which is one of my tests as to how good a book is.

Another is whether it makes me want to learn more, to know the people whose stories it tells.  And Fielding does just that.  By the end, I wanted to know Sue Bennett, to be able to talk with her and ask her about those times and her particular place in television history.  That's not possible now, but in Andrew Lee Fielding's book, we meet her through her son, and his love not only for his mother but for her life in television, and television itself, is the next best thing.

***

Now, a moment of full disclosure - I link to Andrew's blog, The Lucky Strike Papers, and I've linked to several pieces he's posted.  One day I got a very nice email from him, asking if I'd be interested in a copy of his book.  Well, I wrote back, it just so happens that I've already got your book.  Unfortunately, it's packed away in one of forty or so boxes, waiting to be transported from North Carolina to Texas.  But I'm really looking forward to reading it, since I enjoy the blog.

We've corresponded several times since then (Andrew is nothing if not a gentlemen, and he's been gracious in thanks when I've linked to him.  In fact, I should be thanking him for providing me with such interesting things to read.) and The Lucky Strike Papers has always been the number two book on my stack of upcoming reading material.  But then there was the whole JFK anniversary, and Christmas, and something always seemed to be coming up.

Finally, I'd had enough.  I put aside a book that I was in the middle of (I haven't finished it yet), and pulled Andrew's to the top of the list.  I didn't have many doubts that I'd like it, but what if?  Could I be honest and objective about a book if it wasn't any good?

I think you know the answer to that.  I don't go out of my way to offend, but I've never pulled any punches on this blog either.  And when I say I can highly recommend The Lucky Strike Papers, you know that I've not been compromised in any way.

This book is good.  Buy it.  Read it.  Read the blog.  Enjoy them - I'm pretty sure if you're reading this now, you will.

March 1, 2014

This week in TV Guide: March 4, 1961

Raymond Burr was on the cover of TV Guide at least a dozen times, between Perry Mason and Ironside, not to mention his turn as Pope John XXIII.  There's very little new to be written about him, and we know that much of what we've already read will turn out not to be true.  There are a couple of things that remain consistent through all these stories, however: that Ray Burr is a very private man, and that he's a mensch to work with.

Richard Gehman's profile of Burr this week alludes to his life as "one long series of heartbreaking tragedies," most of which didn't actually happen, but there's a significant line in this section, in which Gehman remarks that "few of Burr's friends know anything about him."  It's likely that, in retrospect, what they did know of him might not have been so.  Lest you think I'm hammering Burr, I'm not, or at least I don't mean to.  It is, however, impossible to write about him without picking up these small pieces, which appear in so many articles about him, and contrast them with what we've since learned about him.

Raymond Burr is one of my favorite actors, just as Perry Mason remains one of my favorite series.  And the comments from Burr's colleagues on Mason demonstrate why he was so well-liked on the set.  He's a practical joker, for one thing, his favorite victim being Barbara Hale, who plays Mason's devoted secretary Della Street.  He's good to the crew, with "a desire for everybody to be happy, to be wanted and to belong," leading one person to refer to the Mason set as "the happiest company in Hollywood."

He's also loyal, and not afraid to fight for what he believes in.  When William Talman, who plays Mason's nemesis Hamilton Burger, was suspended from the show following a morals charge (later dismissed), Burr was outraged and fought CBS constantly until Talman was reinstated.  And Ray Collins, who plays Lt. Arthur Tragg, remained listed on the opening credits even after his health prevented him from appearing on the show.  This was, of course, also at Burr's "request."

This article is the first of a three-part series on Burr's life; subsequent parts will go into detail on the more dubious assertions about Burr's past.  In later years, articles will elaborate on these events, but they'll also discuss Burr's devotion to visiting American troops in battle areas, and his continuing commitment to his colleagues.  A mensch indeed.

***

Here's an interesting little slice of life, airing live on Sunday afternoon on Channel 11 - the championship game of the State Catholic High School Basketball Tournament.*  Yes, back in the day (and maybe still, in some areas) parochial high schools competed in their own tournaments, separate from that of the public schools.

*Although, given the program's five-hour running time, I have to think Channel 11 was showing more than than one game.

The reasons for this are numerous, and obvious, in 1961: private schools are able to attract students from a larger geographic area than the average high school*, giving them a "recruiting" advantage; Catholic schools are part of a culture that is, in general, less assimilated into the mainstream, etc.  The differences between the Catholic tournament and the "real" tournament, played later in March, are there as well:  the public school tournament is held in Williams Arena, home of the Minnesota Gophers and shrine of basketball in the state, before crowds that would rival those of contemporary NBA teams, with a Saturday night championship game viewed on statewide television; the Catholic tournament is held in the smaller St. Paul Auditorium and finishes on Sunday afternoon.

*Nowadays, in many areas, students are free to enroll wherever they choose, which cuts down on the "recruiting" advantage.   

It's a small but telling example of how distinct the Catholic subculture was in 1961.  I've read stories of dances at Catholic schools where teachers checked students for their baptismal certificates before letting them in, and Protestants who were warned they'd go straight to Hell if they stepped into a Catholic church.  One of the major goals of the Second Vatican Council was to encourage ecumenism between faiths and assimilate Catholics into the greater culture; in other circumstances, this could be the jumping-off point for an entire discussion on the effects of the Vatican II vis-à-vis the current state of Catholic culture and practice (or lack thereof).  I think we'll just let this speak for itself, though.

***

I've mentioned before that I'm a big fan of Ernie Kovacs, and this Wednesday Kovacs, along with his wife Edie Adams and a cast of nutty sidekicks including Hans Conried, Pat Carroll and Peter Hanley, appear on CBS' U.S. Steel Hour in the crime drama spoof "Private Eye, Private Eye."  Given the description of the show (see below), I would have anticipated a very funny hour; however, a contemporary review labels it "pleasant but bland," a show that "tries very hard to be funnier than it is."

SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION
It's true that Kovacs is an acquired taste, one that many people (critics included) often failed to get, but at the same time I can totally understand how the show might have underachieved.  The reviewer comments that the most entertaining part of the show, in his opinion, is Kovacs' "attitude of perpetual boredom," which might well have been an indicator that he knew it wasn't working.  On the other hand, it also could have been his acknowledgement of the absurdity of the situations he was portraying, such as a bit about a sponsor trying to bring some culture to his detective series.  Oh well.

***

The Play of the Week is one of David Susskind's projects, an attempt to recapture the magic of Golden Age television drama.  It isn't a network drama, appearing instead on a syndicated lineup of 100 or so stations nationwide, from 1959 to 1961.  (In the Twin Cities it's on independent Channel 9 on Wednesday at 8:30pm.)  The quality of programming on Play of the Week is significant, and telling in comparison to that seen on TV today; the premiere episode was Euripides' "Medea" (with a translation by the poet Robinson Jeffers), and later productions were of works by authors as varied as Steinbeck, Sartre and Chekhov.

This week's drama, "Legend of Lovers," is by playwright Jean Anouilh, whose play "Becket" will later be adapted into an Oscar-nominated movie starring Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole.  "Legend of Lovers" is an adaptation of the Greek tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, in this case updated to France in the 1930s, and stars Robert Loggia and Piper Laurie.  Again, this is something I'd have a hard time imagining making it to television screens today.  Its competition is The Barbara Stanwyck Show on NBC (followed by our favorite Jackpot Bowling Starring Milton Berle), and Peter Gunn on ABC.

SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION
Continuing in the cultural vein, NBC's Omnibus on Sunday afternoon features another famous playwright, Pulitzer and Oscar winner William Saroyan*.  Saroyan is on Omnibus to discuss the trend in theater toward the avant-garde, starting with an analysis of his own play "The Time of Your Life," both in its original version and in the avant-garde style, followed by performances from plays by Samuel Beckett, Eugene Ionesco and Edward Albee.  With playwrights like that, I'd assume this show isn't a laugh riot.  Probably not even as funny as "Private Eye, Private Eye."

*Fun fact: William Saroyan's cousin is Ross Bagdasarian, Sr., whose stage name was David Seville.  As in "Alvin and the Chipmunks" David Seville.

And here's something you don't see often: a drama special on a weekday afternoon.  It's "Mother and Daughter," an NBC Special For Women airing at 3:00pm CT on Thursday afternoon.  It tells the story of a mother worried about her 16-year-daughter's growing independence, and the daughter's belief that her parents "wouldn't understand."  It's got a heavy-hitting cast, with Patricia Neal and Arthur Hill as the parents, and Lynn Loring as the daughter.  Just to show that this isn't a typical soap-opera story, NBC newswoman Pauline Frederick appears after the drama, interviewing New York City health commissioner Leona Baumgartner.

***

Wait, we haven't covered the rest of the sports scene yet!  Saturday's sports is pretty modest - no Wide World of Sports, no CBS Sports Spectacular, no PGA golf tournament.  Channel 11, which has shown Missouri Valley Conference basketball all season, has Saint Louis taking on Bradley.  NBC's NBA coverage continues with Syracuse vs. Philadelphia*, and CBS has an hour-long replay of an NFL game between Baltimore and Chicago from last season.  Channel 4 follows that football up with a tape of last night's college hockey between North Dakota and Minnesota, bitter rivals then as now, and finishes up with the Big 10 basketball game of the week between Purdue and Illinois.

*For those of you too young to remember, these are the Philadelphia Warriors, who at the end of the next season will move to San Francisco, leaving in Philadelphia a vacuum that will be filled the following season by the new 76ers, who used to be - the Syracuse Nationals.

One of the things I enjoy about these early 60s games is the modesty of the arenas and stadiums in which the games take place, in the days before the arenas had become palaces.  That Purdue-Illinois game, for example, is played at George Huff Gym on the Illinois campus.  In checking, it turns out that Huff Gym was a formidable place for visiting teams to play in.  The Illini have won 81% of the games they played at Huff, which they'll vacate in two years in favor of Assembly Hall, an arena that's newer, cleaner, bigger, and less charming.  Huff held less than 7,000, which of course is the main reason it had to go, but the atmosphere in these small arenas, packed with students and filled with college spirit, is impossible to replicate.  There are a few of the old buildings still around, but even one of the best, Williams Arena at the University of Minnesota, has been renovated to provide the modern conveniences, and while we should be grateful it's still around, it's still kind of sad to think of those that weren't, and the atmosphere that disappeared with them.

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Finally, the odd show of the week is on Friday evening at 7pm on KTCA, Channel 2, the educational station. There's no description of it, just the title: United World Federalists.  Is anyone really surprised that a program like this would be on public television? TV