TV Jibe: The true meaning of Christmas

If you've come here looking for the regular Friday tour of the classic TV blogs, don't panic; I'm saving it for next Wednesday, as part of our Christmas week programming. In the meantime, enjoy this reminder of what Christmas is all about.

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Hogan's Heroes - the final episode

Idon't think I've ever given an old piece a bump to the top; to be sure, I've resussitated a few old pieces here and there, if they prove to be timely in their subject matter (or if I prove to be untimely in my ability to come up with something new), but usually once I write something, it becomes part of the archives, destined to be found only by people looking for it (or stumbling upon it). Today, though, I make an exception.

A few years ago—almost nine now, if you can believe it—I wrote what I thought was a fanciful little piece speculating on what would have happened if one of my favorite shows, Hogan's Heroes, had been given a final episode. Today, of course, it would go without saying; just about any series that isn't cancelled in the middle of its first season gets the chance to have the last word. Back then, though, that generally wasn't the case. But if there were ever a series that deserved a closing episode, it's Hogan. After all, the concept is a closed circuit; we all know that World War II ended, and so the heroes' time in Stalag 13 would have come to an end as well. Additionally, there's the unique dymanic of the relationship between the captors and captives, especially that between Hogan and Klink, that really begs a "rest of the story" story. And, being a comedy, we can be pretty sure that it won't be a tragic end that befalls these much-loved characters.

Over the years, this post has continued to get comments; two, in fact, in the last couple of weeks. I have no other essay that can make that claim, which I think speaks less to my skill as a writer and more to the enduring popularity of Hogan's Heroes. However, because it was originally published so long ago, it occurs to me that very few of you have had the chance to see this continuing discussion in the combox. Therefore, for your pleasure, as well as that of those who'd like to offer their own scenario on how Hogan's Heroes ends, I thought I'd bump it back to the top. And so, we return to February 21, 2012, and an episode that never was.

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I've never been embarrassed to admit that Hogan's Heroes was, and remains, one of my all-time favorites. It was the first series I got in its entirety on DVD; the acting was superb, the writing spot-on, the plots often literate and clever and frequently downright hilarious. The cast—Bob Crane as Hogan, Werner Klemperer as Klink, John Banner as Schultz, Klink’s nemeses General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter (Leon Askin and Howard Caine) and the whole cast of heroes (Robert Clary, Richard Dawson, Ivan Dixon,* Larry Hovis, and Kenneth Washington)—were uniformly great.

*Ivan Dixon—Sergeant Kinchloe, Colonel Hogan's chief of staff, whom Hogan would almost certainly have taken with him wherever he went—was, as loyal reader Fred Baillargeron points out, was the first black television actor to receive "equal-billing" in a show's credits.

The last episode, airing on July 4, 1971 could have been any particular episode from that final season, and in fact there’s no reason to think it was conceived any other way. A seventh season had been expected, and so the show's cancellation came as something of a surprise, but, in fact, it had been around for six years and, like most extended-run shows, was beginning to show its age, and the ratings had begun to fade. In other words, a perfect candidate for a wrap-up episode.

So what would that final episode have been like? Well, many of the major events of the war had come and gone during Hogan’s run (though not necessarily in linear order) including D-Day. The Allies might have come to liberate the camp, or they might simply have terminated Hogan’s assignment (the POWs, you recall, were stationed at Stalag 13, posing as prisoners but in reality operating a massive underground commando and espionage ring). Myself, I prefer to think of the series concluding with the end of the war; Burkhalter and Hochstetter, being true believers in the Nazi regime, probably would have been taken prisoner themselves by the Allies. (In reality, they might have committed suicide, but let’s not make this too realistic.)

Hogan and his men probably would have vouched for Schultz, who really was just a working man at a job he didn’t particularly like, and possibly even Klink, who when all was said and done didn’t really bear the POWs any real malice; he was too incompetent to have done too much harm. The men would have been lauded as true heroes for their daring behind-the-lines escapades, none more so than Colonel Robert Hogan himself. Already a full colonel, it’s reasonable to assume that Hogan would have come out of the war at least a Brigadier General, with a brilliant future should he decide to stay in the service. The Army, recognizing what it had on its hands, would have made the most of the photogenic, dynamic Hogan. (An earlier episode had actually involved the brass bringing Hogan back home, cashing in on his accomplishments by having him lead bond drives throughout the country.)

And where do things go from there? There certainly would have been a book about such an audacious assignment, just as there was with A Bridge Too Far, A Man Called Intrepid, The Great Escape and other true war stories, probably called, simply, Hogan’s Heroes, by General Robert Hogan as told to David Halberstam. In due course, a movie would have been made based on the book, and it’s fun to speculate on who would have played Hogan in the movie. (Greg Kinnear, anyone? Probably more likely Kirk Douglas.) Hogan might have served in Korea, flying the same kinds of bomber missions he flew in Europe during WWII; on the other hand, he probably would have already been back in Washington, with a high-level job in the Pentagon.

Come the early 60s, Hogan would still have been only about 50. JFK, who also recognized talent when he saw it, might have made Hogan his Air Force aide, working directly out of the White House. (I'll bet they would have had some adventures together.) Our co-blogger Steve suggests that Hogan might have been in charge of the Bay of Pigs invasion, which would have meant that the fiasco would have been averted, Castro toppled, and Cuba liberated. Without Castro and the CIA working behind the scenes, JFK doesn’t meet his death at the hands of conspirators in Dallas, and as we all know that means no expanded war in Vietnam. (Yeah, right.)

See how easy this is? The world as we know it changes completely! Kennedy goes through with his plan to dump LBJ from the ticket in 1964, choosing instead the charismatic Senator from Minnesota, Hubert Humphrey. Bobby lives, not being shot in the ballroom of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, because it is JFK’s loyal Vice President Humphrey who becomes the unanimous choice to continue the legacy of the New Frontier. (Bobby continues as Senator from New York, even providing consultation with that young Clinton fellow from Arkansas who’d had his picture taken with JFK that time. Bobby and Bill fly to Hollywood often and hang out with friends.

The Republicans, of course, turn to Richard Nixon as the best bet to unseat Humphrey and end eight years of Democratic dominance. In a peaceful campaign prosperity becomes the number one issue, and the voters decide to give the Republicans and their tax breaks a chance, electing Nixon as president. True to form, Nixon immediately sees an opportunity to wreak havoc on his enemies, even authorizing a burglary at Democratic headquarters at the Watergate. (What was that about history changing?) The country in a shambles, being led by the president who pardoned the man responsible for it, the people turn to someone they can trust: Robert Hogan, the now-retired military hero, the man who has always stayed above politics, the most trusted man in America (next to Walter Cronkite). And with him, the charismatic former actor and governor of California, Ronald Reagan. What a match! Hogan and Reagan – or is it Reagan and Hogan? Whatever. Happy days are here again.

All that from a simple half-hour sitcom. See why it’s so important for series to have final episodes? You can never tell how history could turn out differently. TV 
 

What's on TV? Sunday, December 17, 1972

When you live in the Pacific time zone, football Sunday gets off to an early start, as you can see from this week's Bay Area listings. I've been to San Francisco a couple of times, and I never could get used to live events starting so early—and, conversely, taped prime time programs ending at 11:00 p.m. instead of 10:00. I think Central time is just ingrained in me. And speaking of prime time, does anyone else remember when CBS and ABC used to have the late Sunday news? I remember seeing it late night, just before sign-off , but these stations show it ahead of or instead of the late local news. Trust me though: there's more to these listings than the late news.

This week in TV Guide: December 16, 1972

We've already looked at the story of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, aka Edward Windsor and Wallis Simpson, when it was a multi-part miniseries in 1980. Time isn't always linear though, as you might have noticed if you've been reading this feature the last few years. Just because 1972 comes before 1980 doesn't mean that we actually get to it first. (I wrote that other piece about the Duke and Duchess at the start of this year, and frankly I'm surprised they're running even that close to each other.) And so we find ourselves making a big deal about The Woman I Love, an hour-long drama airing Sunday at 9:00 p.m. PT on ABC.

This might be the first big American TV drama about the "Love Affair of the Century," and so it's understandable that it would be on this week's cover. That, and also because the couple are being played by Richard Chamberlain and Faye Dunaway, and even though Chamberlain hadn't yet ascended to his Shogun/Thorn Birds-era status as King of the Miniseries, he's still glamorous enough to match wits with Dunaway.

Basil Boothroyd's background story tends to concentrate on the political crisis instigated by Edward's romance with the twice-divorced Wallis; he says that the king "never for a moment considered" the alternative of retaining the throne and giving up "the woman I love," and doesn't consider the post-abdication live of the Duke and Duchess. While religious objection to the marriage is seen today as outdated, especially considering the marital situation of Prince Charles, it was in fact the primary reason for the crisis in the first place; for his part, Edward was, in the eyes of some historians, bluffing with his abdication threat, in a failed power play to retain the throne and marry Wallis. As far as the romance is concerned, I've read accounts on both sides; most historians suggest that the couple remained in love until Edward's death earlier in 1972, but at the same time Edward yearned to live a more meaningful life, one that never came, as the couple became mainstays of café society. It's probably just as well that this story ends where that story begins, for while the political machinations (particularly by Prime Minister Baldwin) are fascinating, they're no match in the end for a royal love story, are they? Just ask the Hallmark Channel.

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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. 

We've seen throughout the years that Cleveland Amory has an antipathy toward shows lacking originality. A show that isn't good but at least tries to be different always has it over a show that is neither good nor original. Welcome to Bridget Loves Bernie, the CBS sitcom about the Catholic girl (Bridget, played by Meredith Baxter) married to the Jewish boy (Bernie, also known as David Birney). It is, says Cleve, "pretty awful." In other words, it's not the "Love Affair of the Century."

It's not that the marriage itself doesn't have problems, he says. For one thing, "they're always either talking about [love] or smooching so much they couldn't talk anyway," and I can certainly understand how that might get a little tiresome after, say, half an episode. No, as with many marriages in the real world, the problem here lies with the families of the young marrieds. "There ought to be a law on TV against in-laws on TV who live in," as in the case of Bernie's parents (as well as a maiden uncle) who run a deli right below where the happy couple lives; meanwhile, Bridget's parents (and a brother who's also a priest, making him—what, Father Brother?) may not live with them, but "they're always there, whenever the show needs them—and also when it doesn't." There's always Bernie's friend Otis, "the show's nonresident black," which pretty much means every box of the stereotypical sitcom has been checked.

This show was controversial when it aired in 1972; the idea of interfaith marriage was a much thornier situation than it is today, when pretty much anything goes. Nonetheless, it might have been better had the controversy surrounded the lack of support given to the cast: Birney is a likable Berney, says Amory (I'm surprised he didn't have a name joke there), and as Bridget, Baxter is pretty. The in-laws are pretty good as well, barring Audra Lindley as Bridget's mom, who's a bit much, but she's supposed to be. Where the show falls short is in the plotting, which leads to stories that are, as far as I can tell, dumb more than anything else. There is, for instance, the one where the couple broke their bed. (It's probably better that we're not told how this happened.) Each family, of course, buys them a new bed, and they buy themselves a new bed as well. A water bed, apparently, because it leaked, "just like the plot." And then there's this week's episode, which Cleve fortunately doesn't get to, in which the families quarrel about whether to celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah. He recalls plots like this with "a stabbing pain," and even without watching it, I'm beginning to feel it myself. It's not that there isn't a place for a show like this, he concludes: "what's a nice soap opera like you doing in prime time?" Bridget may love Bernie, and Bernie may love Bridget, but the viewers only loved them 24 episodes worth.

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Christmas is just over a week away, so we can't be surprised that holiday programs have their own section in the week's highlights.

On Sunday afternoon, Christmas Is (12:30 p.m. PT, KGO) finds a schoolboy transported to the Nativity, where he encounters innkeeper Hans Conreid. John Huston narrates the documentary Christ is Born (6:00 p.m., KCRA), filmed on location in the Holy Land. Season's Greetings from Mike Douglas (7:30 p.m., KPIX) finds the talk show veteran ringing in the season with Cliff Robertson, Louis Nye, Joan Fontaine, and Marilyn Michaels. The gang at the 4077th celebrates Christmas on M*A*S*H (8:00 p.m., CBS), while KBHK has a Father Knows Best Christmas episode at 9:00 p.m.

Monday, PBS repeats The Plot to Overthrow Christmas (6:00 p.m.) a re-creation of a studio broadcast of Norman Corwin's 1938 verse play about the Devil's plan to kill off Santa. On Bill Cosby's variety show (10:00 p.m., CBS) George Kirby plays the three Ghosts of A Christmas Carol (as Pearl Bailey, Bette Davis, and Flip Wilson's Geraldine), and Bill thinks back to Christmases past. Tuesday, it's Pete Seeger's New England holiday show (6:00 p.m., PBS), with gospel and folk artists including the great Doc Watson. Temperatures Rising has its first (and last) Christmas episode (8:00 p.m., ABC)

Wednesday offers some great choices: The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour (8:00 p.m., CBS) has a Yule-themed show with guest star William Conrad, who plays Santa, a Christmas Eve bill collector, and a lodge owner where the Bonos vacation for the holidays. Christmas music abounds! At the same time on PBS, it's A New England Christmas, a festive, Currier and Ives-like look at Christmas memories in Maine. Julie Andrews has the Christmas edition of her weekly show at 8:30 on ABC, with James Stewart as the featured guest, plus cameos by Jack Cassidy, Cass Elliot, Joel Grey, Carl Reiner, and Rich Little as Jack Benny playing Scrooge.

Thursday night, PBS has A Joyful Noise (8:00 p.m.), "a holiday package of carols and folk songs" with the Beers Family, Brenda Joyce, and the Sounds of Joy. Later, it's Dean Martin's Christmas show (10:00 p.m., NBC), and Dean is joined by Glenn Ford, Lynn Anderson, and the Golddiggers. On Friday, Lawrence Welk hosts his annual Christmas show (7:00 p.m., syndicated), while KRCR shows The Night the Animals Talked (7:30 p.m.) the story of what happened on a December night 2000 years ago when the animals—well, I guess you can figure that one out for yourselves. The score is by Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn, and although it doesn't figure in this cartoon, one of their best-known songs is "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" Yuletide stories pop up on The Little People, where Brian Keith faces being replaced as Santa in the Christmas pageant (8:30 p.m., NBC), and The Partridge Family (8:30 p.m., ABC), as the Partridges are told an Old West Christmas tale by an old prospector (Dean Jagger).

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Dwight Whitney has an interesting interview this week with Gary Crosby, son of Bing, semiregular on Adam-12, and feeling "good about myself" for the first time in his life. Now, with no disrespect intended to Gary, he's not what's interesting about this interview; in fact, I'm not quite sure why he's being interviewed, since he's got nothing particularly timely to promote. No, what we're interested in, nearly 50 years hence, is what Gary has to say about his illustrious father.

When asked by Dwight Whitney whether or not he loved his father as he was growing up, Gary replies, "We worshiped him. What he thought was everything. . . Maybe he'd send us to our room for some minor infraction. 'Now you guys stay there for the next two hours,' he'd say. He could leave town and we'd still be sitting in the same position." When asked about Crosby's reputation for being insensitive, even cold, Gary disagrees: "Absolutely wrong. He was tremendously sensitive and he cared deeply. He just had a rough time showing it." He admits that while parts of his childhood did come across like the American Dream, it wasn't always good. "As we grew older, terrific arguments developed over girls, cars, curfews. My rage was constant."

The Crosbys, from 1952: (l-r) Philip, Gary, Bing, Lindsay, Dennis

He does detail difficulties he had with his father, such as the time the elder Crosby sent son Lindsay's Christmas presents back unopened, simply because Lindsay had chosen to spend Christmas with Gary in Las Vegas. "I got madder than Linny did, holding love out on us like that!" Gary says. "And it took a long time to smooth that one out." Eventually it does get smoothed out; Gary says that the love of his wife Barbara is what helped tear down the wall that Gary's built around himself; "She had to teach me to show affection." And his relationship with his father is much better; "I know he loves us. I'll grab him and he'll grab me back. . .Now he can even say, 'You know, Gary, maybe I was a little too strict with you kids.'"

Now, you'll recall that it was Gary who made headlines in 1983 with his book Going My Own Way, in which he accused his father of having abused him when he was a boy. The stain on the elder Crosby's memory is one that's hung around since, although I have to wonder how many of today's generation are even aware of it (or know who Bing Crosby was, for that matter). The accusation was simply taken as fact back then, even though two of Gary's three brothers took issue with it, and Crosby biographer Gary Giddins has said he's never found any evidence to back it up.

Despite the affectionate way in which Gary talks of his father here, it doesn't necessarily contradict that story. Of course, many abused children love their parents deeply, as if they could win their love. Perhaps Gary, as part of his continuing efforts to overcome his alcoholism, had to learn that he wasn't entirely to blame for those conflicts with his father. In later years, Bing would talk about how he had made mistakes with his first family, mistakes that he was determined to rectify after he married Kathryn (his first wife, Dixie, had died of cancer). Anyway, it would have been terribly difficult for Gary to make those accusations while Bing was still alive, although waiting until after Bing's death did make it impossible for his father to respond to them.

Remember how important context is; many disciplinary methods that were that were tried and true back then are unacceptable today, and the stern father of yesteryear is a borderline monster now. Consider also that since this article appeared, Gary divorced not only Barbara, whom he'd given credit for helping him turn his life around, but two subsequent wives. Gary Crosby was, by his own admission, a troubled man, and while it's entirely possible that he was telling the truth in his book, it's equally possible that he exaggerated what had happened (Bing didn't deny his faults), either for effect or because that's what he'd come to believe. I don't pretend to know the truth, but I lean toward the reading that Bing Crosby was, like all of us, human; and Gary Crosby, like all of us, struggled to explain why his life turned out the way it did.

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I promised you there was more to the week than just Christmas programming and so there is, beginning on Sunday with the world's greatest ballet dancer, Rudolf Nureyev, joining the National Ballet of Canada in Tchaikovsky's immortal ballet The Sleeping Beauty (7:00 p.m., PBS). It's also the final weekend of the NFL season, which means there's no Monday Night Football; this was done in the early seasons because it was possible one of the teams might have to turn around and play in a playoff game on Saturday. ABC carries forth the spirit, and keeps the time slot warm, with the first college bowl game of the year, the Liberty Bowl (6:00 p.m.), pitting Georgia Tech and Iowa State, with the men from Atlanta winning, 31-30.

Tuesday's ABC Theatre presentation of "If You Give a Dance You Gotta Pay the Band" (8:30 p.m.), a gritty, hard-hitting drama about life in the ghetto, features young Larry Fishburn as one of the stars. At this point, he's only 11 years old, and it's his first screen credit. From 1974 to 1976, he'll play Joshua Hall on One Life to Live; during that run, he makes the movie Cornbread, Earl and Me, billed as Laurence Fishburne III. (The lack of an e at the end of his last name in 1972 is either a typo on TV Guide's part or one of the styling changes in his name.) In 1979, he's one of the crewmembers of the hopeless trip up the river in Apocalypse Now; as time goes on, he's nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for playing Ike Turner in What's Love Got to Do With It, wins a Featured Actor Tony for Two Trains Running and takes home an Emmy for TriBeCa. He's starred in movies like The Matrix and TV series such as CSI, and he continues to have quite a career. I wonder if anyone saw it coming from this 11-year-old in 1972? Also on Tuesday, a whimsical episode of Hawaii Five-O (8:30 p.m., CBS) features Andy Griffith as head of a family of con artists who find themselves in over their heads when one of their victims turns out to be one of the island's leading gangsters. Ol' Barn ain't gonna bail you out of this one, Andy.

On Wednesday, ABC's Movie of the Week (9:30 p.m.) demonstrates everything that's wrong with the post-Vatican II Catholic Church, in The Weekend Nun, a based-on-true-events story of a nun who's also a probation office, and is forced to ask herself where she does the most good: the convent or the mean streets. Now, don't get me wrong; I've got nothing against probation officers, who I'm sure perform an important job for the community, even though I've never had to make use of one myself. The point is that a nun already has a full-time job, or at least she did until the Church tried to become more "relevant" in the modern world. That job was called praying, and it just might be every bit as effective in keeping delinquents out of trouble. And Thursday, Charlton Heston stars as an aging cowboy facing changing times in a hard world in Will Penny (9:00 p.m., CBS), a role that I recall Heston saying was one of the more satisfying of his career.

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In the odds and ends department, the Teletype reports that Telly Savalas is joining the list of stars in detective movies with an upcoming CBS TV-movie Cojack, with Jose Ferrer and Marjoe Gortner. When that movie does air, on March 8, 1973, it's with Ned Beatty instead of Ferrer, and the character's name is spelled "Kojack." By the time the series begins that October, it's Kojak, the name that we know and love, baby.

And last but certainly not least, the Teamsters is trying to "polish its image" by sponsoring a CBS special on Christmas night, Opening Night U.S.A., hosted by Ed McMahon. It is, according to the network, the first time a labor union has ever sponsored a prime-time show. Why does the Teamsters—the union headed by Jimmy Hoffa, who's spent the last four years in federal prison and will step down as its president in June—need to polish its image? I think I've asked and answered my own question. The ironic part of this story is that there's a good chance that the strike against CBS by the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers might still be in progress, with technicians on the picket lines, leaving management to see to it that there is an opening night for Opening Night. Apparently, according to Richard K. Doan, the union isn't bothered by crossing that line. TV  

Around the dial

Do you remember the NBC prime-time soap Number 96? It was a sensation in Australia in 1972, where the night it premiered was known as "the night Australian TV lost its virginity" due to the copious amounts of sex (including full-frontal nudity) for which the show would become infamous. An American version of the series, also known as Number 96, premiered in 1980; NBC billed it as "The series they tried to ban in Australia!" but despite this, and even though I no longer lived in the World's Worst Town™, I have absolutely no memory of the series, which was much tamer than its Aussie counterpart. (Even so, you can bet the young viewers in the picture above wouldn't have been watching it at that age) Good thing Television.AU is here to rectify the gap in my knowledge. By the way, for those of you familiar with our Twin Cities TV listings, you might recognize that the ad for the American version used at Television.AU comes from the Minnesota State Edition of TV Guide. What do you know, even KCMT carried it!

At Comfort TV, David explains how those classic Christmas episodes are bringing him more pleasure than usual this year, and I know just what he means; I believe that it was in 2001 that WPIX brought back the Yule Log because it was comfort food for people after a traumatic year, and the same goes this year. Check out the episodes that are particularly meaningful to him.

Staying with the Yule theme, at Christmas TV History Joanna lists some of the best Christmas variety shows, including classic episodes available for streaming. This is a genre that really gives me pleasure each year, because so many of them contain the lavish Currier & Ives-type Christmas trappings that have come to define the holiday; they're also not afraid to point out the sacred nature of the day. 

Let's hope that Christmas doesn't make you want to give someone a whoopin', at least not the kind that Hondo gives. This week at The Horn Section, Hal reviews the 17th and final episode, "Hondo and the Rebel Hat," which proves you shouldn't mess with a man's hat.  

At Silver Scenes, the Metzinger Sisters provide a nice review of the career of character actor Joe Flynn, most memorable in McHale's Navy, but a standout in almost every part he plays. Like John Banner, Flynn was an actor who really knew how to steal a scene, and although Joey Bishop apparently didn't like that, there were plenty of more secure actors who profited by having him alongside.

I'm ashamed that although I've read a great deal about the British sci-fi character Quatermaas, I've only seen a part of one of the movies, which means I'm doing a gross disservice to the classic series. John goes in-depth on the 1955 The Quatermaas Xperiment, the beginning of adult science fiction on television, at this week's Cult TV Blog.

If you're like me—and by that, I mean that you have an appreciation for the Rat Pack—you'll want to check out Alain's Facebook page dedicated to Frank, Dean and Sammy. What better way to establish your credentials as a cool customer? In conjunction with this, you might want to check out the new book Deconstructing the Rat Pack: Joey, The Mob, and the Summit, by Richard A. Lertzman and Lon Davis, which has some in-depth info on Joey Bishop, including both of his television shows.   

And in case you missed it, my 2020 Holiday Gift Guide is up; be sure to take advantage of some great shopping ideas! TV