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  

At Home with Earl Wrightson

I'm on vacation this week, a fact which should interest absolutely none of you, but eventually vacations end, and you find yourself back home. And speaking of home (how's that for a segue?), here's a look at the 15-minute weekly music program At Home with Earl Wrightson. From the description:

At Home was a 15 minute program hosted by singer Earl Wrightson that aired under different titles on ABC and CBS from 1948 to 1951.

True, that's about as bare-bones a description as you could ask for, but then, there's not much more to say. Earl Wrightson hosts from a cozy living room-type of set, sings a couple of songs (with a pleasing baritone voice), and introduces a guest who also sings a song or two; then they do a duet, and that's it. Simple, but effective.

Earl Wrightson was a singer and actor from the 1940s through 1980; he was never an A-lister (his only starring role on Broadway was a short-lived bomb), but he was a familiar face on television and in summer stock (frequently performing with his "intimate" friend, Lois Hunt), and recorded dozens of records during his long career. Earl's performance as host on At Home is comfortable and smooth.

The 15-minute television program, usually a soap opera or musical variety show, was a staple of television's first two decades. At Home, like most of the quarter-hour non-soapers*, shared the half-hour with the 15-minute network news. Eventually, networks turned that time over to their local affiliates, signaling the end of these shows; the last regularly scheduled 15-minute network programs were, I think, the soap operas The Guiding Light and Search for Tomorrow, which didn't expand to a half-hour until September of 1968. 

*Eddie Fisher, Dinah Shore, Andy Williams, and Perry Como were among those who hosted such shows through the years.

Today's program is from the show's run on CBS; it originally aired on January 18, 1950, and Earl's guest is the popular singer Marguerite Piazza. The bandleader is Norman Paris, who would later serve the same function on I've Got a Secret.

 

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What's on TV? Friday, July 10, 1964

Xhat a great night of television Friday was back in the early 1960s. CBS alone has Route 66, The Twilight Zone, and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. NBC has Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theater, which usually had a top-flight cast, and The Jack Paar Program. ABC has Burke's Law, and sports fans would have fun with the Friday night fights. For me, that would have been must-see TV, even if you have to switch between channels. I suppose that makes me old, but you know what? I am old. And if you're a classic TV fan and you can't find anything to watch tonight, I can't help you. By the way, tonight's listings are from Minneapolis-St. Paul.

This week in TV Guide: July 4, 1964

James Lileks once said that every lawyer's secret dream was to have the theme to Perry Mason played at his funeral, and I've no reason to think this isn't the case. After all, according to the cover of this week's issue, Perry Mason is "The Indestructible Hero." But part one of Dwight Whitney's two-part profile of Mason deals not with its star, Raymond Burr, but its creator, Erle Stanley Gardner.

In 1964 Gardner is 74 and still going strong, pumping out Mason mysteries on a regular basis. (Whitney reports he dictates "several books a year.") To date, Gardner had written 73 Perry Mason books, having sold over 100 million copies. Perry has served Gardner well; it's gotten him four homes, including a ranch in northern California and a house in Palm Springs. Our image of Mason comes from having seeing Raymond Burr play him for nine seasons; we know what he looks like, how he sounds, how he interacts with Della and Paul; but until the birth of the series in 1957, Gardner didn't even bother to describe what he looked like, other than that he was big and broad-shouldered. "I can't tell y ou what he looks like," he tells Whitney. "I blurred everything as much as possible, wanted the reader to create his own image."

We also can't imagine anyone other than Burr as Mason, but several actors played him in a series of movies which weren't really very good. (In part two of the interview, which runs next week, we read about how disgusted Gardner was with the movie depictions of Mason, so much so that it was quite a struggle before he'd allow weekly television to have a crack at him.) There was a Mason radio series for several years, which made it to television (sans Perry) under the title The Edge of Night and ran for 28 years; you might have heard of it.* There was even a Mason comic strip. In fact, Raymond Burr didn't even try out originally for the role of Mason, but for Mason's nenesis, the hapless D.A. Hamilton Burger. The story goes that Gardner took one look at Burr, who was allowed to audition for Mason as well, and said, "That's Perry Mason." The rest, of course, is history.

*The Mason surrogate in Edge, Mike Karr, was played for several years by John Larkin, who played Mason in the radio series—and appeared several times as various characters in the television series.  

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The Republican National Convention is only a week away, scheduled to start on in San Francisco on July 13, which,  considering the luck the GOP had that year, should have been a Friday but was instead a Monday. It's hard to imagine now, but conventions used to be in the summer back then, not right around Labor Day. It's also hard to imagine, but coming into this convention there was no guarantee as to who was going to win. The favorite (and eventual winner) is Barry Goldwater, but he's facing a challenge from Pennsylvania governor William Scranton, a surrogate of New York's liberal governor Nelson Rockefeller, who had jumped into the race only a couple of weeks earlier.

This will be, in significant ways, a landmark convention for the GOP. It's the first time the liberal and conservative wings of the party have truly duked it out in public (the 1952 battle between Eisenhower and Taft wasn't nearly as visible, or as deep), and it's one of the first times we'll see a real hostility toward the media by the convention delegates. (former President Eisenhower, in his speech to the convention, will make passing mention to not allowing the media to exploit the party's fissures in public; the moment electrifies the delegates, who start booing and shaking their fists upward at the network broadcasting booths.) Goldwater's defeat will leave the Republicans in truly horrific shape; the recovery begins with Nixon's victory in 1968, and finally comes to fruition with Reagan's win in 1980.

The convention promises high drama, and the networks are ready, with coverage you wouldn't even expect from C-SPAN nowadays; NBC plans to televise the Platform Committee's hearings all week (4:00 p.m., Monday through Friday), and ABC offers a couple of hours of previews (Thursday, 12:30 a.m., and Friday, 9:45 p.m.). But CBS has what is, for my money, the best show for , one that might even bring a tear to the eye of the political junkies nostalgic for the good old days. It's called Great Conventions (Wednesday, 6:30 p.m.); hosted by Eric Sevareid, it's an hour of famous speeches, platform battles, floor fights, multiple ballots decided in smoke-filled rooms. 

The idea that conventions used to be dramatic, tense, battles for the heart and soul of a political party, with the outcome often in doubt until the last minute—well, for political junkies like me it's kind of sad. Today a political convention is as relevant as, well, someone's appendix. After all, I don't have one, and I get along quite well without it.

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Saturday is Independence Day, which, of course, means baseball: the Minnesota Twins are in New York for a holiday doubleheader against the Yankees, and the Twins television network has game one of the twin bill (Noon CT, WTCN). The Yankees will win the American League this season, their last time for over a decade; the Twins take the crown the following season. Neither wins the World Series, for what it's worth. 

When I think of the Fourth of July, one sport I don't think of is Olympic track and field, but tonight ABC presents coverage of the Olympic trials, taped this afternoon at Dowling Stadium on Randalls Island in New York. (8:30 p.m.) Today's winners will be heading off for Tokyo and the Summer Olympics in October.

Something else I don't normally associate with July 4 is the 24 Hours of LeMans, one of the greatest auto races in the world. The main reason I don't think of it because it's held in June—except, that is, in years like 2021 when it's postponed for a few months because of the virus. But in 1964 we're seeing taped coverage of the June 20-21 race on ABC's Wide World of Sports (4:00 p.m.). How quickly things change: the next year, ABC will be showing the beginning and end of the race live via satellite. Also on Wide World: coverage of the men's finals at Wimbledon, taped last Saturday. That won't be shown live in the United States until 1979.

Otherwise, there's no other holiday programming on the tube—not even Yankee Doodle Dandy—save Lawrence Welk's tribute to American music. (7:30 p.m, ABC). That's not so surprising, perhaps; the Fourth of July has always been a communal, community event. Parades, picnics, fireworks. Better things to do than sit at home on a lovely summer day and watch television.

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There is, however more baseball, and that's one of the highlights from the rest of the week.

C'mon, Darren!

On Saturday afternoon, the syndicated rerun of Riverboat features a dilemma for Captain Grey Holden (Darren McGavin), who viewed his romance with Marie Tourette (Suzanne Pleshette) as just a dalliance. But she didn't, and she wants to get married. (Must be a case of Tourette's Syndrome?) Seriously, Darren: you're turning down Suzanne Pleshette? What's wrong with you, man?

It's always fun when shows set in the past have their main characters run into someone famous (or about to become famous), and Bonanza is no exception when, on Sunday, the Cartwrights run into novelist Charles Dickens, who's touring the United States and just happens to stop off in Virginia City. (8:00 p.m., NBC) The proud and supercillious Dickens is played by the proud and supercillious Jonathan Harris—perfect casting! (And before you complain, I'm a big fan of Harris, who was nothing like that in real life).   

On NBC's Monday Night at the Movies (6:30 p.m.), Dan Dailey plays baseball great Dizzy Dean in the movie The Pride of St. Louis. Richard Crenna plays his brother Paul (aka Daffy), and Joanne Dru is Diz's wife. The script is by Herman Mankiewicz, and newsman Chet Huntley (long before the Huntley-Brinkley Report) has a small role as a sportswriter. 

The Pride of St. Louis serves as a warm-up for major league baseball's All-Star Game (Tuesday, 11:30 a.m., NBC), from spanking-new Shea Stadium in New York, right next to the World's Fair. It might be hard to believe nowadays, or maybe I've just gotten cynical over the years (after all, I miss political conventions), but at one time the All-Star Game was actually appointment television, back in the days when most people only saw the Saturday afternoon Game of the Week, unless you lived near a major league team (which might televise 25 or 30 games a year). It was a rare treat to see baseball's biggest names, and for those who did have a local team, it was the only time, other than the World Series, when you got to see stars from the other league. (My friend Steve knows what I'm talking about.) There are 19 players from both rosters who will wind up in the Hall of Fame; the American League blows a 4-3 lead in the ninth inning and loses 7-4.

Johnny Carson is on vacation for the holiday, and so Woody Allen is guest host for the week. Wednesday night (10:30 pm., NBC), Woody's guest is satirist Allan Sherman, which must have been a pip of a show. Other guests for the week include Bill Cosby and Godfrey Cambridge; with a comedian as guest host, it's not surprising that the accent's on comedy for the week. I never would have thought of Allen as guest host material, but he subbed for Johnny several times over the years, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

The show I'd probably have watched on Thursday is The Jimmy Dean Show (8:30 p.m., ABC); I always liked Rowlf, the first Muppet I ever saw; the other guests are Eydie Gormé, Jim Reeves, and Don Adams. A pretty good lineup, I'd say. Later that night, (11:30 p.m., KMSP), a rerun of Thriller features Boris Karloff himself in the starring role; those were some of the best episodes of that series.

Friday, Robert F. Kennedy is Jack Paar's special guest, reminiscing about the late President Kennedy. (9:00 p.m., NBC) It was on Paar's show back in March that RFK made his return to the public eye following JFK's assasination, so we shouldn't be surprised that he'd be a repeat guest tonight. George Gobel and Helen O'Connell are Jack's other guests. It's up against ABC's Fight of the Week, a heavyweight bout between Bob Foster and Ernie Terrell (9:00 p.m.); Foster wins the world light-heavyweight champtionship in 1968, while Terrell fights (and loses toel Barrymore) Muhammad Ali for the heavyweight title in 1967.

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I wrote a few years back about Breaking Point, the ABC psychiatric drama that I like a lot, and this week an unbylined article looks at one of the show's stars, ◄ Eduard Franz (left), an actor of great dignity—with emphasis on the word actor. Franz, the author says, "has a genuine passion for acting, but his secret weapon is that it is not the ruling passion of his life." He paints and draws, has been married to the same woman for 40 years, and has many, many friends. "In short, he is the very model of an essentially civilized man managing to move gracefully in an essentially uncivilized profession."

Because of his noble profile, especially his "large Roman nose," Franz his been cast as "learned doctors of philosophy, Viennese physicians, Supreme Court justices, and Indians." He came in through the ranks with Eugene O'Neill's Provincetown Players, acting with Paul Robeson and Walter Huston; he described O'Neill as "a man nobody knew, a shadowy figure who sat at the back of the house watching and listening." He gained his credentials on the stage because Ethel Barrymore, the grand lady of the theater, insisted on having him appear in three plays with her. She didn't particuarly like him, but there was something about him, a calming influence, to which other actors were drawn. Mario Lanza wouldn't do a movie without him.  

In his current role, as Dr. William Raymer on Breaking Point, he is the elder doctor to Paul Richards' young Dr. McKinley Thompson. He wasn't terribly excited about playing the surrogate father, a la Dr. Zorba and Dr. Gillespie, but he wasn't dissuaded either. He just wanted to make sure he wasn't window dressing. When it appeared that Richards was going to get the lion's share of the attention, he calmly went in to the producer's office, reminded him that the two actors were co-stars, and demanded his release. He didn't throw a tantrum, go to the press, suddenly become "sick" during shooting. As a result, he got his fair share of storylines. Both Richards and Franz are very good in their roles, but I have to admit a fondness for those in which Franz has the lead.

Breaking Point only runs one season—a pity—but, as far as it goes for Eduard Franz, "as long as there's room for civilized men in television, he'll be working.

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Finally, For the Record's Henry Harding says NBC is planning to give the made-for-TV movie another shot. The network started out with Johnny North, starring Lee Marvin, Ronald Reagan and Angie Dickinson, but that wound up being too violent, and it was released in the theaters as The Killers. But now they've started on a new production, tentatively titled The Widow-Makers, with John Forsythe, Senta Berger and Jane Wyatt. The plan is to air it on either Wednesday or Saturday Night at the Movies, sometime in the fall. And guess what? The name changed—to See How They Run—but it did indeed air as the first TV-movie, on October 7, 1964. The story: "Three children are stalked by hired killers after they unknowingly take evidence pointing to the existence of a corrupt international cartel, which has just murdered their father." Yep, sounds a lot less violent than The Killers to me.

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Hey, it's the Glorious Fourth tomorrow, so if you're celebrating, firing off some rockets of your own, or just going somewhere for the long weekend, be sure to be careful out there, and don't forget to take a moment to remember what the day is all about. Enjoy! TV  

Around the dial

Decades has always been one of my favorite retro digital channels, and so it's been nice to have it back on in our area after a long absense. Over at their website, there's an interesting article on Ida Lupino, whom, as you probably know, was not only a terrific actress but also a pioneering female director, and the only person—male or female—to both star in and direct episodes of The Twilight Zone. 

One of the staples over at Decades is The Ed Sullivan Show, and the Broadcasting Archives at the University of Maryland links to this article at the New York Times looking back at some of the greatest moments of the show, 50 years after the airing of its last episode.

John, at Cult TV Blog, is wondering if he's found another show I haven't heard of. John, you've done it again: it's Bognor, an early 1980s British series, based on a series of novels by Tim Heald, and starring David Horovitch as an investigator for the Board of Trade. It's a show that's completely of its time, and while (like John) I've never been a big fan of 1980s TV, based on his description this sounds like it might be worth a look.

In the latest installment of Flipside: The True Story of Bob Crane, which you can listen to at the Bob Crane: Life & Legacy site, Carol and Linda review the recent Starz documentary Autopsy: The Final Hours of Bob Crane. It's well worth your time listening to it; we may do just that while we're on the road this weekend.

Robert has his lastest Internet finds at Television Obscurities; I always enjoy seeing what clips and shows he's come up with, and for June he's got a nice collection, including: an episode of The Original Amateur Hour from 1948, Mike Wallace interviewing Miyoshi Umeki in 1959, and something I might have mentioned a few years ago—a five-minute commercial for Chevrolet's 1965 lineup that ran at the end of a Bonanza episode that otherwise aired without commercial interruption.

The figures from the past continue to pass away, and at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence remembers Stuart Damon, who died this week aged 84. He's best known for his long run as Alan Quartermaine on General Hospital, not to mention starring as Craig Stirling on the 1968-69 British series The Champions. 

Martin Grams has an interview this week with Jeff Thompson, author of the book The Television Horrors of Dan Curtis. The book covers Curtis's television and film output, including his two best-known shows: Dark Shadows and The Night Stalker, as well as shows you might not at first glance associate with him, such as The Winds of War and War and Remembrance. What an output.

At the website of the Television Academy of Arts and Sciences, my Twitter frined Herbie Pilato has a terrific article on the day commercial television started, which just happens to be July 1, 1941: 80 years ago today. How far we've come—or fallen—since then.

At The Horn Section, Hal's into Get Christie Love!, and the 1975 episode "A Few Excess People," with a great guest star lineup including Phil Silvers and Rose Marie! I have to admit, though, that it's the title that appeals to me—many's the time when I feel like I'm surrounded by the same. 

Finally, it's part two of the Hitchcock Project study of Levinson and Link at bare•bones e-zine, and this week Jack's focus is on 1962's "Profit-Sharing Plan," an "an entertaining, lightweight half-hour" that's an improvement on their own original short story. But then, when it comes to TV, I'd expect nothing less from L&L. TV