May 9, 2025

Around the dial




Well, where should we start this week? How about at The Twilight Zone Vortex, where Jordan's review of the fifth season of TZ progresses with "Ring-a-Ding Girl," starring Maggie McNamara as a woman with a most unusual ring. 

At Drunk TV, Paul's look at the NBC miniseries-series Best Sellers concludes with the final miniseries, "The Rhinemann Exchange," a "four-hour drag" starring Stephen Collins. What else can be said, other than to marvel at how far down the series went after "Captains and the Kings."

Martin Grams has a nice little piece on Jill Leporte's book The Secret History of Wonder Woman, which presents us with an equally interesting look at the famed superhero, the man who created her, and the actresses who played her.

At Cult TV Blog, John's "Sylvia Coleridge Season" continues with the episode "Mr. Nightingale" from the 1977 British anthology series Supernatural, in which our heroine plays one of the old ladies of the household facing a very nasty guest.

If you enjoy Jack's regular Hitchcock Project articles at bare-bones e-zine, here's something from the same site that I think you'll like: Lawrence Herman's piece on the writer Henry Slesar, who authored stories or adaptations for 47 episodes of Hitchcock. And more!

Terence gives tribute to the late Ruth Buzzi at A Shroud of Thoughts. We all knew her from Laugh-In, of course, but there was much more to a career that spanned seven decades on television and in the movies. She will be missed.

And at Comfort TV, David offers Ruth Buzzie's top TV moments. Some of them might come as surprises to you; did you know that she was the voice of Granny Goodwitch for the cartoon Linus the Lionhearted? Or that she made her TV debut on The Garry Moore Show? Check it out.

At The View from the Junkyard, Roger turns his eye to The A-Team, and the ripped-from-the-headlines episode "Children of Jamestown," based on the infamous Jim Jones cult. Ah, if only it had turned out this way in real life. TV  

May 7, 2025

Remembering the Emergency Broadcast System


Today I'm pleased to welcome back Bill Griffiths, with another of his guest essays on television "back in the day." This week, in the first of a two-part series, he recalls something that used to unnerve the hell out of me when I was growing up: the weekly test of the Emergency Broadcast System. Remember? 

by Bill Griffiths

One of the wonders of the Internet has been the ability to remember and relive pleasant memories of the past. In particular, shared experiences of what television programs and events we watched, and may continue to watch in reruns, has come alive through different websites, blogs, podcasts and video sharing platforms such as YouTube, Dailymotion, Vimeo, TikTok and others. In our present day to day activities such diversions can offer moments of joy and comfort. Indeed it’s a reminder that no matter How events of the world may seem, life in general isn’t all too bad.

We all have fond memories of television in our youth. The shows, the personalities, the commercials and so much more. But for this guest essay and another to follow, I’ve gleefully chosen to turn negative and write about a couple of occurrences that decidedly do NOT inspire happy tv watching remembrances. One is the sudden interruption of a program for a news report. The other is the Emergency Broadcast System Test. The predecessor of today’s Emergency Alert System, EBS was in use between 1963 to 1997. It had replaced an earlier warning system called CONELRAD (1951-1963) that was designed to be activated specifically in the event of an enemy or nuclear attack. 

EBS was also designated for national and local civil defense emergencies, but additionally to communicate severe weather alerts. TV and radio stations were required to perform weekly on-air tests unless the system had been locally activated during the previous week. The tests were theoretically done at random times. But to this young Northern California viewer watching afternoon cartoons on KTVU Channel 2, they seemed to always be conducted during a program break. Thus the appearance of the Word TEST in big bold letters created brief unnecessary anxiety and a sudden urge to mute the set volume. However with maturity comes wisdom. Those EBS Tests were deliberately scheduled during the cartoon shows on Channel 2 so kids as myself knew what to expect “in the event of an emergency”. No doubt stations in other cities did the same thing.

The message generally went like this:

This is a test. For the next 60 seconds, this station will conduct a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test.
[loud shrill tone is heard]

This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities, have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you just heard would have been followed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the [insert name of your community] area. This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcast System.

Then it was back to the cartoons and we were safe from the EBS Test for at least another week. That is, unless one turned over to another channel and who knew when any of them would perform their required weekly test?

Amazingly, I cannot recall one instance when the Emergency Broadcast System was actually used during my childhood. I don’t think it even occurred during the Loma Prieta Earthquake on October 17, 1989. Then again many stations were knocked off the air and when they came back on, it was straight to the developing news.

There was at least one instance when it was inadvertently activated and caused a brief panic. On the morning of Saturday, February 20, 1971 during what was at the time the standard weekly EBS test period, engineer Wayland S. Eberhardt in the National Emergency Warning Center at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado sent out the wrong message code to radio and television stations indicating that a real national emergency was taking place. It took some 40 minutes for a firm correction to be issued. Some stations went into actual EBS mode while others did not. For his part Eberhardt was mortified by the whole incident, telling The New York Times, “I can’t imagine how the  hell I did it.” An investigation revealed the codes were in close proximity to one another and he simply grabbed the wrong one. Tests soon became more randomized. A recording of how radio station WOWO-AM in Fort Wayne, Indiana managed the “emergency” is preserved in a 5-minute excerpt on YouTube, that starts with a lead-in from DJ Bob Sievers to the then-new Partridge Family song “Doesn’t Somebody Want To Be Wanted”. It’s still unnerving to hear, but Sievers handles the situation professionally.

The announcements concerning the EBS Tests were fairly straight-forward. The wording could be customized to better reflect the area it was being broadcast. But in general, EBS was serious business and you couldn’t mess around with serious messaging. Those lines can’t be made into upbeat music, right? Ah, but it was and more than once. Around 1974 radio jingle company TM Productions created a rather entertaining song directly from the EBS Test script. A couple of other jingle organizations produced amusing variations on these announcements which can also be heard on YouTube. There is even one that even extends into the tone itself where it sounds like the rhyme “Mary Had a Little Lamb” with a quacking duck at the end of the announcement—a subtle nod to the infamous “Duck and Cover” film of the 1950’s! These examples would certainly have made the ordeal of sitting through tests a lot more fun. However, the fine folks at the FCC were not amused and created a rule that mandated EBS Tests not be sung or joked about in any way. “The TM Rule” remains in effect to this day.

Regular test notifications of the Emergency Broadcast System much like the current Emergency Alert System are just part of the normal TV viewing experience. I’m sure many of you have EBS memories whether it be sitting through an angst-ridden test moment or an actual emergency where it was activated in your area.

For something more jarring, little else can beat a program being unexpectedly interrupted for breaking news. That will be the subject for an upcoming guest essay. In the meantime, I’ll conclude for now with three of the most dreaded words in television…

TO BE CONTINUED  TV  

May 5, 2025

What's on TV? Wednesday, May 6, 1964




This week's local note comes from WHDH and the Dateline Boston program, where the guest is the legendary Harry Ellis Dickson. Dickson was part of the first violin section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra for 49 years and also served as Associate Conductor of the Boston Pops orchestra, backing up Arthur Fiedler. His daughter, Kitty, was married to Michael Dukakis; when Dickson died in 2003 at the age of 94, Dukakis said that "No one on this planet could wish for a better father-in-law." As you might gather, we're looking at the Eastern New England Edition this week.

May 3, 2025

This week in TV Guide: May 2, 1964




Often lost in the shuffle of more famous bombs, such as The Jerry Lewis Show, is the failure of Judy Garland's much-heralded TV series debut. This week we'll rectify that oversight, thanks to Vernon Scott's in-depth look at Judy's side of the story.

"I don't blame people for watching Bonanza instead of The Judy Garland Show," she tells Scott. "It was a natural choice." She says it without rancor, without bitterness, because in doing the show, she felt that there was something more important than ratings. "I wasn't disappointed," she says of them. "I don't think we deserved [higher ratings]. The time slot was impossible. After four or five years of loyalty to Bonanza, I can understand why viewers did not switch to my show." What was more important, she insists, is what she demonstrated to the industry. "I did prove to everybody that I was reliable. They said I'd never answer the bell for the second round. But we turned out 26 shows. And some of them were damned good, too. Especially the last five we did."

She calls the experience of doing a weekly series "very enlightening—and funny." It was "instant disaster" from the beginning, and sometimes "instant success." Every week, one way or the other. Speaking of the last five shows, which were done in a concert format (something Judy had wanted from the outset), she says, "By the time we discovered where we were going it was too late." But the network had insisted on a variety series, that it would be impossible to do the equivalent of a special every week, and she went along because "I believed they did know what they were doing." 

They, meaning the network executives, didn't like how she touched her guests so much, that viewers would think she was drunk or that there were sexual impliations. She didn't like the turntable stage they installed on the set; not only was it too noisy, it gave her motion sickness. There were nine different formats during the 24 weeks the show aired, and oftentimes she couldn't hear the orchestra because they were off to one side; she finally succeeded in getting them put on stage behind her. She was never a part of the editing process, so her hairdo and wardrobe would change from scene to scene with no explanation. 

Everyone agrees she could be difficult to work with. She only rehearsed two days a week, Thursdays and Fridays, with taping done on Friday nights. Last minute changes would be made after dress rehearsals, throwing everyone into a panic. Sometimes, she says, she'd be learning the lyrics to new songs by singing them off idiot cards. Despite all this, nobody has a bad word for her. "She wears everybody out," says producer Gary Smith, who lasted the longest of anyone on the show (21 episodes). "But she is a magnificent performer and she adapted herself beautifully to the weekly TV format." Smith, like everyone else who worked on the show, was eventually fired, presumably by Judy. But he only says, "She's a great creative star and an awesome personality." 

It was, Scott says, more of a personal than a professional defeat for Garland, for whom being popular is very important. Yet she remains grateful for having done the series, which she feels introduced her to new fans who'll want to see her in person on concert tours. "All in all, the show was a good thing to have happened to me. I learned a great deal. But if I had known what I was in for, I would never have tried a weekly series. Not ever."

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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: Guests include songstress Patti Page; comics Bill Dana and Vaughn Meader; Jerry and the Pacemakers, English rock 'n' rollers; the Claytons, whip and rope act; and rock 'n' roller Little Stevie Wonder. (Plus the cat of "America Be Seated," with Louis Gossett, May Barnes, and Bibby Oscarwall. Vaughn Meader was apparently a no-show.)

Palace: Host Louis Jourdan introduces Olympic gymnasts Muriel and Abe Grossfeld, Armando Vega and NCAA champion gymnast Ron Barak; songstress Anna Maria Alberghetti; the singing King Sisters; comedian Henny Youngman; tap dancer John Bubbles; ventriloquist Russ Lewis; comics Lewis and Christy; and juggler Johnny Broadway.

We have plusses and minuses on both shows this week; after Palace's brief excursion into Wide World of Sports territory, there are some recognizable names, if nothing to set the world on fire. Over on Sullivan, we can't be too surprised in Vaughn Meader didn't appear; his career all but ended after the death of Kennedy. Otherwise, we see Bill Dana and Jerry and the Pacemakers while they were still big, and Stevie Wonder while he was still little, and that's good enough to give Sullivan the gold medal for the week.

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From 1963 to 1976, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever they appear, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era

There's folk music, as Cleveland Amory points out, and there's folk music. Gospel folk, country folk, city folk, Dixieland folk, and just plain folk folk. And just about all of it can be seen, from week to week, in ABC's music series Hootenanny. The show, hosted by Art Linkletter's son Jack, is broadcast from a different college each week, and features a wider range of talent than just about any other show on the air. Folk music, I should interject here, is just about my least favorite kind of music, and I'm someone with fairly eclectic tastes. Even I've heard of some of these acts, though—the Travelers Three, the Brothers Four, the Serendipity Singers, the New Christy Minstrels, even Johnny Cash, who I'd never considered a folk singer until now, but as Cleve says, just about everything is folk music today except for the Boston Symphony, and he isn't even sure about that.

It's all put together in an unpretentious manner by producer Richard Lewine and director Garth Dietrick, and that has to be a relief compared to some of the more overly produced variety shows on the air today. I doubt, for instance, that you'd see the same kind of staging as you do on NBC's Hullabaloo. "At its best," Amory says, "it's very little short of wonderful and even at its worst it's pretty fair TV fare. You name your favorite song and if you're patient, sooner or later someone will sing it." (I kind of doubt it in my case, but then, who knows?)

It's all music, except for one comedian featured on each show, something that seems to have been a trademark of music shows of the era. One of the best, Amory says, is a "diffident young man" named Jackie Vernon, whom we all know as the voice of Frosty the Snowman. "Everything about me used to be dull," he says in his trademark deadpan voice. "My favorite comedians were Bert Parks and Allen Ludden." He also tells a story about his grandfather, who had to leave the west because "he said a discouraging word." (It helps if you read the line in his voice.) Like so many things, Hootenanny eventually falls victim to the changing musical tastes that resulted from the British Invasion, but it was fun while it lasted. 

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The biggest sports event of the week comes to us from Louisville, Kentucky, where the great Northern Dancer wins the 90th running of the Kentucky Derby (5:00 p.m. ET, CBS). Nothern Dancer will go on to win the Preakness before finishing third in the Belmont Stakes; he will run one more race before pulling up lame and going to stud, having an equally successful career there.

However, the bigger sports news came not from any arena, but at the Hollywood Advertising Club, where ABC president Tom Moore sounded off on a few things, including some "radical changes" to sports in America. According to Henry Harding, these suggestions included replacing college football bowl games with an elimination tournament, determining champion golfers by a points system during the PGA tour, and shortening the major league baseball schedule to 60 games—two per weekend. The reaction from sportswriters was mostly negative, but let's take a step back and look at Moore's suggestions. The PGA has, indeed, gone to a points system, culminating in the FedEx Cup; whether or not that really determines the champion golfer of the year, it's a fact. Also a fact is the creation of the College Football Playoff, which has reduced the role of bowl games to filler on ESPN. It has many faults, but it's a reality. As for shortening the baseball season, it hasn't happened and probably never will, but the increase in playoff teams pushing the World Series into November and rendering much of the regular season meaningless, I think there are a lot of people who'd be on board to at least cut back. It'll probably happen when pigs fly, but who knows?

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Saturday
 night's late movie on Maine's WMTW is one that should bring a smile to any fan of the Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker team: Zero Hour! (10:30 p.m.), the movie that served as the model for Airplane! Dana Andrews stars as Ted Stryker, the ex-fighter pilot haunted by guilt who's called on to land a passenger airlineer after the crew becomes sick from eating bad fish; Linda Darnell is his wife, who's preparing to leave him because of his inability to pull his life back together; and Sterling Hayden is Captain Treleaven, Stryker's old commanding officer, who's called in to help talk Stryker down. If all this sounds familiar, it should; ZAZ paid $2,500 for the rights to the screenplay in order to make sure they didn't run into a problem with copyright while working on Airplane! (See the comparisons here.) If you're looking for something a little more conventionally great, stick around until 11:40 p.m. for the John Wayne classic The Searchers (WJAR in Providence).

Nelson Rockefeller's brother Winthrop, currently running for governor of Arkansas, is the guest on Sunday's Meet the Press (6:00 p.m., NBC), notable because it originates from the World's Fair in New York. I've noticed that a number of programs are broadcast from the Fair during its two-year run; today, you might see Meet the Press broadcast from the site of the Super Bowl, but only if NBC's showing it, and only if the topic concerns sports on TV. Later, on Lassie (7:00 p.m., CBS), Timmy and Lassie bring an injured raccoon back to the farm after a tornado. No word on whether or not they found a dislodged building with a woman's legs protruding from underneath it.

On Monday, it's the debut of the daytime drama Another World (3:00 p.m., NBC), which will spawn a spinoff, Somerset, and will run on the network for 35 seasons and 8,891 episodes; as I recall, that was one of my mother's favorite soaps. In primetime, the echo of President Kennedy's assassination continues to reverberate on Sing Along With Mitch (10:00 p.m., NBC), a special segment of which is devoted to songs that were favorites of the late president, including "Beyond the BLue Horizon," "Too-ra Loo-ra Loo-ra," and "Greenland's Icy Mountains." I can't help but wonder if those really were JFK's favorites; the whole Camelot legend was predicated in part on stories that the soundtrack to the musical was one of his favorites, although I've read reports that, in fact, he had barely any interest in the show. But as we know, when the truth confronts the legend, print the legend.

Red Skelton's guests on Tuesday are a pair of child stars: Mickey Rooney and Jackie Coogan (8:00 p.m., CBS). Interesting paring, don't you think? And tonight's episode of The Jack Benny Program (9:30 p.m., CBS) is a classic of its type; Jack finds himself (in his dream) on trial for murder, with none othet than the great Perry Mason (Raymond Burr) defending him. You can see that episode, including the hilarious courtroom scene, on YouTube. And the Bell Telephone Hour (10:00 p.m., NBC) presents a truly eclectic hour of music, with Van Heflin narrating "Concord Bridge" to Morton Gould's "Declaration Suite" in honor of Armed Forces Day; Connie Francis singing a medley of popular songs, and opera stars Jon Vickers and Giulietta Simionato performing the judgment scene from Aida.

Speaking as we have been of classics, Wednesday's Dick Van Dyke Show (9:30 p.m., CBS) gives us one of the best: the episode "That's My Boy??," where Rob has doubts that the baby Laura brought home from the hospital is the right one, until he meets the parents of the other baby. You can see, and laugh along with, the episode here; stories persist that the joke from the end of the episode produced the longest laugh ever, much of which had to be edited out due to the length. You can read an interesting anticdote about that episode here. And The Danny Kaye Show (10:00 p.m., CBS) kicks off a series of reruns with its Christmas show, featuring the aforementioned Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore, along with Mr. Christmas, Andy Williams.

On Thursday, the primetime edition of Password (7:30 p.m., CBS) features Lucille Ball and her husband, Gary Morton as the celebrity players. Dr. Kildare (8:30 pm., NBC) has a rare dramatic appearance by Cyril Ritchard as an eccentric writer who throws Blair General into a tizzy when he insists he'll be dead within a week. And on Kraft Suspense Theatre (10:00 p.m., NBC), Keenan Wynn portrays an innocent man charged with murder; when he finds that he enjoys the notoriety, he confesses to the crime.

The week's end kicks off with the day's beginning: the recently retired baseball great Stan "The Man" Musial is a guest on Today (Friday, 7:00 a.m., NBC). Sticking with NBC for primetime, David Frost makes a return appearance on That Was The Week That Was (9:30 p.m.), guesting for the first time since the early weeks of the show; he was, of course, one of the creators and stars of the British edition. And at 10:00 p.m., Jack Paar's guests include Richard Burton, currently starring in "Hamlet" on Broadway; you can see an excerpt from that appearance here

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And now the story behind a concept called Project 120, a movie called Johnny North, and the picture below, in which Ronald Reagan is beating the hell out of Angie Dickinson.

It all started with a deal between NBC and the production company MCA to produce a series of two-hour feature movies that would be made especially for television, and distributed later to movie houses. (In the pre-DVD era, this would make more sense that it does today.) The first of the planned features to emerge from Project 120 was called Johnny North, based on Ernest Hemingway's short story "The Killers." "But, as the poet said, there's many a slip 'twixt the conference table and the screen." The movie, which was budgeted at just under $250,000, came in instead at more than $900,000. Not only that (as if that wasn't enough to begin with), the powers that be judget that the finished product was both too sexy (witness a kissing scene between Dickinson and her race-car-driver boyfriend, John Cassavetes) and too violent (not only did Reagan rough up Angie, she also got belted around by both Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager). In order to recoup the costs, MCA has now decided that the movie will be released in theaters, renamed Ernest Hemingway's The Killers. NBC says Project 120 will continue (as, indeed, it does), only with less sex, less violence, and less cost.

As for that picture—well, The Killers was Ronald Reagan's last movie, one which he made against his better judgment. It was the only time he ever playedd the heavy, and he was said to be quite distraught over the scene in which he slaps Dickinson; it was the one role that Reagan most regretted playing. Of course, unbeknownste to all, he has a much bigger role ahead of him. 

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MST3K alert: The Indestructible Man 
(1956) On his way to the gas chamber, "The Butcher" vowed he'd return from the grave and get the three men who doublecrossed him. Lon Chaney, Casey Adams. (Saturday, 11:30 p.m., WNAC in Boston) When combined with the short that preceded it, part two of "Undersea Kingdom," Lon Chaney became the first and only actor to appear in both segments of a single MST3K episode. Look for a short, fatal, turn from future McHale's Navy star Joe Flynn. Your pleasure, I promise, will not be indestructible. TV  

May 2, 2025

Around the dial




Let's kick off things at barebones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project looks at the rare Hitchcock Western, "Outlaw in Town" by Michael Fessier, a wry, fun story with terrific performances from Ricardo Montalban, Constance Ford, Arch Johnson and Bernard Kates. 

I was living in the World's Worst Town™ when the landmark TV special "Free to Be. . . You and Me" aired, so my knowledge of it is limited to second-hand observations. Fortunately, David takes a measured look back at it in this week's Comfort TV essay, which I found quite illuminating.

At Cult TV Blog, John continues with the "Sylvia Coleridge Season" and "A Touch of Home" from the 1972-73 series The Lotus Eaters, about British expats living on Crete. It makes for uncomfortable viewing, John says, as it holds up a mirror to Brits with not necessarily flattering results.

F Troop Fridays is back at The Horn Section, and this time out, Hal looks at "How to Be F Troop Without Really Trying" from the show's second season. Seems they're going to be shipped out to Bloody Creek, with Agarn's staying behind to train their replacements. You know, I don't like that "Bloody" part.

Martin Grams shares an essay that he and Robert Tevis wrote on the 1957 Playhouse 90 episode "A Sound of Different Drummers." I devote a chapter in my upcoming Darkness in Primetime to that episode, and I'm so grateful to Martin and Robert for making it possible to see the episode at the Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention a couple of years ago.

At Mavis Movie Madness, Paul takes a thoughtful look at hwo movies got to be such a popular part of television programming. As you'll know if you've read my TV Guide reviews, television used to be literally dominated by movies, and Paul's review is quite instructive.

Terence shares his frustrations about favorite shows being pre-empted in this piece from A Shroud of Thoughts, and even though I've never seen an episode of Wild Cards, the show in question, he has my profound sympathies. Now you know what it was like trying to watch TV in the aformentioned World's Worst Town™.

Roger's latest New Avengers review at The View from the Junkyard centers on the episode "Obsession," in which our heroine Purdey finds herself involved with a man obsessed with the idea of revenge. Roger's astute observation: "An obsession is like an addiction. He’s enslaved by it." TV