As Shakespeare once said, "We have seen better days," but before we get too lost in the moment, let's start the week at Comfort TV, where David looks at eight times when Shakespeare came to classic television. Number five is a particular favorite; I wrote about it here.
It is true, however, that things have been better, and right now we all seem to be looking for someone to come to the rescue. Well, how about Bob Cummings? Hal has the inside story with a look at "Bob to the Rescue," a 1955 episode of Love That Bob!, at The Horn Section.
At Shadow & Substance, Paul takes a side-by-side look at two of the great anthology series of the classic era: The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents. They've both been rebooted, but I don't think the new versions have ever come close to the originals. Perhaps it has to do with the hosts.
Let's look at one host in particular: Hitch. Jack's latest piece at bare•bones e-zine continues the Harold Swanton project with "Summer Shade," the sixth-season episode starring James Franciscus and Julie Adams, and shows again how a talented writer can improve a story by adapting it.
It's a couple of days old now, but I think you'll still have time to play the 1950s sci-fi version of Rick's "The Alternate Movie Title Game" over at Classic Film & TV Café, as long as you don't check out the answers in the comments section first. We're on the honors system here, people.
That's it for another week; hang in there everyone, because we will see better days. Be back here tomorrow, aloha. TV
Yesterday, the Big Ten and Pac 12 conferences announced they were putting their football seasons on hiatus until spring, keeping their fingers crossed all the while as they were saying it. Technically, of course, the decision applies to all fall sports, not just football, but you and I both know they were just the fine print. The other three major conferences may or may not follow suit, and we may or may not find out their decisions this week, or next week, or next month.
There are a lot of angles to this story, but the one we're interested in today has to do, not surprisingly, with television. In case you haven't noticed, there's a lot of college football on television; thanks to the miracles of streaming, the lucky viewer can feast of football Thursday nights, Friday nights, all day and most of the night Saturdays, and occasionally Tuesdays and Wednesdays. You don't need to be an expert in broadcast journalism to know that no football (or less football, depending on what those other conferences decide) is going to create a scheduling gap big enough to drive a Mack truck through. The NFL, if they're able toplay, can be expected to fill some of the empty space, but, based on past experience, the rest of the time will likely be taken up with replays of "classic" football games—and, seeing as how this is a classic television website, one ought to have something to say about it.
As I wrote here a few weeks ago, it's nonsense to suggest there's not enough TV to go around, and that goes for sports as well as any other kind of programming. Unfortunately, the problem with classic sports, as is often the case when we talk about classic television, is that the definition of classic doesn't mean what it used to. Unless I miss my guess, the classic games we'll be seeing on ESPN, Fox, ABC, CBS, and various college conference networks will probably be, oh, three or four years old. Very few of them will be classic in the historical sense, and even fewer in the vintage sense. In fact, if they weren't originally aired in HD, they probably don't have much of a chance at all.
And it's a shame, if not a surprise. The history of college football is replete with games that thrilled viewers watching them on the collective edges of their living room seats—rivalry games, games that decided national championships, games that ended in last-second hystronics, games that caused heart palpitations, even games that resulted in baby-booms nine months later. What's more, a surprising number of these games still exist, at least on YouTube: the various Games of the Century (Notre Dame-Michigan State in 1966, USC-UCLA in 1967, Nebraska-Oklahoma in 1971, Notre Dame-Alabama in 1973, Miami-Nebraska in 1984, Texas-USC in 2006), last-minute heroics (Doug Flutie's Hail Mary pass), and what have you. Fans whose sense of history barely reaches farther back than last week might enjoy seeing O.J. Simpson when all he did was play football, or Miami before they were a national powerhouse, or when a single college football game attracted more attention than the Super Bowl.
Now, nobody's pretending that there are enough of these games to replace an entire college football season, and certainly there are games from the past twenty or so years that merit another look or three; the Kick Six between Auburn and Alabama in 2013 is a prime example. And then there's the sticky matter of rebroadcast rights. But you can't tell me that Disney can't make some of these things happen; they practically own the entertainment industry as it is. Sad to say, too often, the games we'll be shown will be little more than run-of-the-mill games between familiar teams, games that we've already seen, oh, last year. I know there are probably logical reasons why this can't be done, but I wonder if the thought process has even gotten that far?
When a writers' strike once threatened to delay television's Fall Season, TV Guide suggested that the networks dip into their reservoir of series that hadn't been given a chance to succeed or might have simply been ahead of their day. Sadly, with the exception of one or two shows (He & She being most prominent), the idea went unfulfilled; I suspect it will be the case with college football this year. We shouldn't be surprised, after all, since the average television viewer might as well have season tickets to Short Attention-Span Theater. Still, you'd think by now we'd tired of being sold chopped beef and told it's prime rib, wouldn't you? TV
Here we are again in Chicagoland, with the added bonus of listings for WTMJ in Milwaukee. I often comment that this is your chance to find your favorites from a particular day, but today is thoroughly ordinary, with a handful of programs that you're so used to seeing in the public domain that it's a surprise to find them in first-run appearances. Captain Video, for instance, still going on DuMont since 1949. or Abbott & Costello, in first-run syndicationon WBKB. You'll also see some names that seem out of place, such as Ogden Nash; best known for his witty poems, but there he is on CBS as a panelist on Masquerade Party, hosted by newsman Douglas Edwards. And the guest host for Garry Moore is Meredith Willson, composer of The Music Man, who did quite a bit of TV. And Bud Collyer hosts game shows on two different networks in back-to-back timeslots—how unusual is that?
I've remarked in the past that live television is a breed apart from recorded programming, enough so that it's a genre of its own, just like Westerns and crime dramas. Part of this is because of the limitations imposed on live television; it's obviously difficult to capture the grandeur of a John Ford Western in a TV studio. But not only does live TV tell particular types of stories, it does so in a particular way; it requires a different type of storytelling, a different type of acting, and it forms a different relationship with the viewer, one with more immediacy, more intimacy. We see the difference between live and recorded television this week in this week's "Great Debate," with Fred Coe, Executive Producer of TV Playhouse, affirming that live broadcasts are best for "timely programs and creative drama," while John L. Sinn, President of Ziv Television Programs, favors filmed shows for "greater scope, better acting, fewer mistakes."
Now, it shouldn't be a surprise that the executive producer of a live anthology and the president of one of the most prominent producers of syndicated programs should take their respective positions. Both men agree on the need for both methods, and assume a continuing need for both. As Coe points out, "it would be absurd to choose a film pickup (even for a few hours) of the World Series," and includes elections and conventions, along with regularly scheduled news broadcasts (excluding unscheduled news events, where film is required "to record events for delayed broadcasts"). Coe concedes that it would be pointless for a show such as Dragnet to be broadcast live, when the writers, actors, and directors work with the same premise each week. It is in the area of "an honest theatrical production" of thirty minutes or an hour, where live television shines. "Except for a few isolated cases, there are no drama series on film that as yet compare week in and week out to. . .live programmng." Think of it as an event, a Broadway opening, a play that focuses the audience on the actors and the script, rather than its surroundings. There is an energy in the live performance that film cannot capture.
I wish I had one of these in our house.
But Sinn foresees a day when as much as 80% of programming will be on film. As he points out, all of Ziv's programs (Boston Blackie and I Led Three Lives are two of Ziv's better-known programs, and the future will bring popular shows such as Sea Hunt, Highway Patrol, Bat Masterson and Science Fiction Theatre), but that's not why he speaks in defense of filmed shows. He feels that the "first night" feeling of spontaneity that occurs with live programming is "vastly overrated," and even if it weren't, that wouldn't be a good reason for trapping television shows within the narrow confines of a studio. Film also allows for a more finished product, giving the viewer the best possible entertainment experience. Most important, though, film is also important to preserve such programs for future posterity, although, as Coe mentions, videotape and kinescopes will make such preservation possible. Whereas live programs leave nothing behind "but the script and the memories of those who saw them," film is forever; it "can go into the files as a living history book."
In the end, it's hard to say. I know; a classic copout, right? But Coe is right in that most of what television carries can be accomplished on film (or, later, tape). It is the anthology, the theatrical presentation, the concert, that thrives from an audience witnessing it simultaneously with the performance. And, of course, that's precisely the type of program that's no longer seen with any regularity on television. Coe may win the battle with his argument that live TV is necessary, but he loses the war when the survey of contemporary fare is conducted. More's the pity.
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As I've mentioned, there's not a lot of differentation in the week-to-week offerings of these early TV Guides, which encourages us to look at some of the things that add a local flavor to the proceedings, if you will. Advertising, for instance: when I last read TV Guide, while it was still in the distinctive smaller size, the non-television advertising in the programming section was pretty much non-existant. (Now, of course, it's the programming section itself that has almost disappeared.) But look at some of these ads from Chicagoland, 1953-style:
And while there's plenty of advertising teasing upcoming shows, most of it is either for local programming or supplied by local stations:
Is this just a way for me to take up more space? Sure it is, but it's more than that. It's a testimonial to how TV Guide in the 1950s and much of the 1960s was a local publication more than a national one., one that had formed something of a community bond, if you will, with the readers. The ads themselves are not as slick, more innocent, less assaulting than those that would follow. You'll even see small reminders for readers to remember their civic duties. It doesn't mean that the 1950s themselves were more innocent; after all, the threat of the bomb was hovering overhead wherever you looked. It's just different, and it gives you as much of a flavor of the times as the shows and the stars that each week's issue is promoting.
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So what is on TV this week? One way to tell is with these handy highlights, found for each day's listings:
One of the interesting things about these pictorial guides is how the captions alternate between actor and character. For instance, Gertrude Berg is the star of The Goldbergs (7:00 p.m. CT, NBC), and Jay Jackson is the host of Twenty Questions (Friday, 9:00 p.m. CT, WGN), but Pam and Jerry are Mr. and Mrs. North (9:00 p.m., CBS), played by Barbara Britton and Richard Denning, respectively. It's your snapshot of what's on.
There's a movie on Friday night at 11:45 p.m. on WGN called Dragnet, not to be confused with the series of the same name. Rather than Jack Webb, it stars Rod LaRouque, and here's the description: "Conflict arises between the district attorney's office and a circle of crooks." I thought that pretty much describes the normal roles that the two parties play in everyday life, but I suspect there's more of a story to it than that.
Did you know that Larry Storch had a regular television series prior to F Troop? I'll bet you did, since it seems as if almost everyone hosted a variety show in the early days of the tube, and the title of his show is, appropriately, The Larry Storch Show (Saturday, 7:00 p.m., CBS). This week, Larry's guest is singer Monica Lewis, and among the sketches, Larry impersonates a Frenchman giving a New York travelogue. That I'd like to see. Not from the show, but here's how Larry plays a Frenchman:
Hoagy Carmichael is the host of Saturday Nite Revue, the 90-minute program filling in for Your Show of Shows (8:00 p.m., NBC), but will it get knocked out by Phillies Saturday Night Fights from Chicago (8:00 p.m., ABC), featuring unranked welterweights Alan Moody and Irvin Steen, or Wrestling from Marigold(8:30 p.m, DuMont)? Who knows?
On Sunday, Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town (7:00 p.m., CBS) welcomes guests Jay Lawrence and Burt Lancaster. and the 1953 version of the What's My Line? panel—Arlene Francis, Bennett Cerf, Dorothy Kilgallen and Steve Allen—join John Daly live (9:30 p.m., CBS). Monday means Burns & Allen on CBS (7:00 p.m.), and if you're familiar with the show from either radio or television, you'll easily understand this week's episode, in which "George and Gracie get locked out of their house [and] the locksmith called in the emergency almost loses his wife because of complications brought on by Gracie." If you're not sure how this could happen, don't ask. John Newland, Vaughn Taylor and Elizabeth Montgomery are among the stars on Robert Montgomery Presents (8:30 p.m., NBC), and on Abbott & Costello (9:30 p.m., ABC), "Lou rescues a gorilla from a trap and they become inseparable friends." Tuesday is filled with music on Summertime U.S.A. (6:45 p.m., CBS) with Teresa Brewer, Mel Tormé, and the Honeydreamers; that's followed by adventure on The Gene Autry Show (7:00 p.m, CBS) when "gene rescues a little boy from his outlaw captors." Those who forget that Mike Douglas was a bandsinger before becoming a talk show host could be reminded on Music Show (7:30 p.m., DuMont), and Bob and Ray are among the guests on Eddie Albert's variety show Nothing But the Best (8:00 p.m., ABC).
There's more music Wednesday on TV's Top Tunes (6:45 p.m., CBS) with Bob Eberly and Helen O'Connell, and more wrestling on Wrestling From Rainbo Arena on Chicago's North Side (8:30 p.m., ABC). On a summer repeat of This Is Your Life (9:00 p.m,. NBC), the honoree is Rock Hudson. And how about a pleasant way to end the evening, with The Liberace Show (9:30 p.m., WGN) as "Liberace plays your favorite piano melodies." Thursday brings us one of the most reliable anthologies of the era, Four Star Playhouse (7:30 p.m., CBS). The four stars, who generally rotated in appearances, are Charles Boyer, Ida Lupino, David Niven and Dick Powell (they also comprised Four Star Television), although tonight's star is Merle Oberon, a woman who "Swallows her pride, obtains the hearing aid she needs, and thus learns of her husband's infidelity." Barbara Billingsley is one of the guest stars; let's hope Mrs. Cleaver isn't up to something funny.
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Apparently, more and more movie stars are looking to television for their next dollar. Why? Well, for one thing, the studio system is in its long descent to obsolecense. Studios are cutting back on their contract lists, and those actors and actresses still under contract find they're not necessarily being paid regardless of whether or not they work, as was once the case. For the entertainer looking for a steady income, what could be better than a sitcom? A successful series can earn the star as much as $5,000 per week, not including profits, and they'll still have a chance to do a movie during the off-season. Is it any wonder, then, that stars from Loretta Young and Adolph Menjou to Ray Milland and Joan Caulfield are headed for the small screen? Not everyone succeeds, but ask Eve Arden (Our Miss Brooks), Gale Storm (My Little Margie), and Lucy and Desi how well it's worked. Ca-ching!
Speaking of Gale Storm, she started out life in Houston as Josephine Owaisca. Then, in short order, she won a Gateway to Hollywood talent contest, married, got a new name, and launched "a dazzling career" that has brought her to My Little Margie, and stardom. It's not surprising that this self-styled "realist" would be among the stars trading movies for television and security. She's always tried to keep her values in order. "Many people in show business focus their attentions entirely on themselves—how they look, how their clothes are arranged, and so on. I consider that unhealthy because it's too self-centered. The basic happiness for any woman is a happy home life, with the career secondary." With her success in TV have come—once again—movie offers, but for now, it's the demanding television life, a succesful nightclub stint in Vegas, and her husband and four kids. She'll go on to be widowed twice and will fight a successful battle with alcoholism; as she wrote in her autobiography prior to her death in 2009, "Life has been good and I thank God for His many blessings and the happy life He has given to me."
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That's it for this week—and don't forget what TV Guide says:
It's a light week, but only in terms of quantity—certainty not quality.
If you've followed this weekly feature for any length of time, you know that one of my favorites is the Hitchcock Project summaries that Jack does over at bare•bones e-zine. This week, Jack provides an index to his past reviews; he's got a way to go yet, but I keep telling him he needs to put these in a book.
The provocative Advanced TV Herstory podcast celebrates five years this week with a look back and a look ahead. You might want to dig into the deep archive of past shows to get up-to-speed.
At Garroway at Large, Jodie gives us a fascinating look at what it's been like working on her Dave Garroway biography, and why she—and those like her—do what they do. It's about keeping a memory alive, about keeping history honest, and telling stories that need to be told. In my own modest way, it's what I keep doing as well.
David offers a capital idea over at Comfort TV: if the coronavirus prevents us from having a Fall Season, why not go back to 1970? After all, you can do a whole lot worse than a season that includes Gunsmoke, The Beverly Hillbillies, Marcus Welby M.D., The Dean Martin Show, The Brady Bunch, My Three Sons, The Mary Tyler Moore Show and The F.B.I.
We all know what comes to mind when we think of Lynda Carter—Wonder Woman, right? (I know that's what you were going to say.) Silver Scenes reminds us that there's more to her than that, though, as she looks back and forward to her singing career. Shadow & Substance looks at Rod Serling's Twilight Zone episode "What You Need," and we get a chance to find out what Serling retained from Lewis Padgett's original short story and what he discarded—and why—in order to make it what TZ needed. TV
