May 2, 2026

This week in TV Guide: May 7, 1966



A host of substantive specials lead off the week, beginning with our cover story on President Johnson's tour of the Texas White House. 

Lyndon Johnson's Texas (Monday, 10:00 p.m. PT, NBC) is an intimate look at the LBJ Ranch and the surrounding hill country of Texas, of which the President is intensely proud. Johnson personally conducts NBC's White House correspondent, Ray Scherer, and a film crew on the tour. Central Texas, and Johnson City, is where LBJ was born, grew up, represented, and lived for most of his life, and to know the land is to know Johnson himself. 

He tells Scherer that "I believe that the land is our greatest source of wealth, and a man who understands it and appreciates it would better understand democracy itself, our system of government and the people who live here." He shows Scherer the house in which he was born ("I was born before the doctor could get here. I was delivered by my grandmother. That was fairly common in those days."), the family plot, and the Pedernales. Johnson remembers that as a young boy, "I rode from the main ranch house to Austin many times in a wagon. I remember my father would offer the child who would see the capitol first a nickel. And we watched for 60 long miles for that capitol. When we got within 10 or 15 miles of Austin, high on a hill, we would see the capitol and all of us would holler at the same time. Everyone got a nickel.” As the sun sets over the Peddernales, he remarks to Scherer, "Those are beautiful trees... so peaceful and quiet. I think that the water there in the river, the grass that is here on the bank, the implements that are there on the fence line, all working together, have meant sustenance for me and mine for more than a century along the banks of this river."

It strikes me that this is an extraordinarily personal look at a sitting president, the opposite of the interviews we've become accustomed to today. When Jackie Kennedy took Charles Collingwood on the tour of the White House in 1962, we saw the woman dedicated to restoring the grandeur of America's house; here, we have the president himself giving us a look at the grandeur of America, the land, and the stories of the people who made it. I'd love to see something like this again someday.

On Sunday, we see the flip side of the Johnson presidency in ABC's documentary series The Saga of Western Man (8:00 p.m.), and the episode, "I Am a Soldier." The soldier in question is Captain Theodore S. Danielsen, West Point 1960, a company commander in the First Cavalry Division in Vietnam. During the documentary, we see Danielsen and his men put through the paces of learning helicopter warfare, conducting a search-and-destroy mission, and attending a ceremony for the company's dead.

Whenever there's a program like this, the first thing I always do is search for the soldier's name to find out what happened to him. Did he make it through Vietnam intact, was he taken prisoner, did he die in action? And, if he made it home, what happened to him after the war? In Captain Danielson's case, we can happily report that he did, indeed, make it home. He retired from the military in 1987 with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and died in 2011 in his own homeland, South Carolina. According to the West Point Association of Graduates, "His most memorable mission was to aid a sister unit that was heavily outnumbered and in great danger in the la Drang valley. [A battle portrayed in the documentary.] Ted’s company conducted the first nighttime heliborne Infantry assault into a hot LZ and saved many lives in the process." He won the Silver Star for that battle, as well as one of his three Bronze Stars with Valor. was admired and respected by his men, loved by his family, and received the gratitude of a grateful nation, though certainly not at with the intensity he deserved.

Somewhere between these two is the NBC News special The Journals of Lewis and Clark (Sunday, 6:30 p.m.) narrated by Lorne Greene, and produced and directed by NBC's acclaimed Ted Yates. In making the special, Yates and his camera crew retraced the route taken by Lewis and Clark in 1804, traveling from St. Louis to the high plains of Montana, where they reach the headwaters of the Missouri River, and then on to the Rockies and down the Columbia River to the Pacific. It's an epic journey, worthy of this special, and deserves to be studied more than it is.

What links all three of these documentaries is the way in which they portray different aspects of America: the land and how it's shaped the character of its people, the heroism required in the face of adversity, and, in so many ways, what it means to be an American. It's a dramatic reminder that, even more than a philosophy, America is a nation comprised of its heritage, its land, and the people who helped make it what it is through their blood and toils. People may fight for an idea, but they'll certainly fight for their homeland. We hope.

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During the 60s,
The Ed Sullivan Show and The Hollywood Palace were the premier variety shows on television. Whenever they appear in TV Guide together, we'll match them up and see who has the best lineup.

Sullivan: Scheduled guests: Gordon and Sheila MacRae, the singing McGuire Sisters, the Serendipity Singers, Harry James and his orchestra, comedienne Jean Carroll, puppet Topo Gigio, and comic John Byner. (The episode guide indicates that The Black Sheep and Henny Youngman were part of the lineup as well.)

Palace: Hostess Judy Garland welcomes Van Johnson; comic Jack Carter; rock singer Johnny Rivers; the Black Theatre of Prague, pantomimists, who offer “The Chair’; British comedy pantomimist Charlie Cairoli; and the Roselle Troupe, Colombian acrobats. Judy and Van present a clown routine—their first performance together since the 1949 movie “In the Good Old Summertime."

Don't misunderstand me; I've always liked Gorddodn MacRae, and Sheila was a sweetheart. And the McGuire Sisters aren't bad, both solo and with Harry James. Henny Youngman's addition is a definite plus. But let's be real: Judy Garland hosting the Palace, complete with a reunion with Van Johnson, and Johnny Rivers in addition. This is an easy one for me; it's the good old Palace for the win this 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.

My Three Sons is, Cleveland Amory says, something of a television institution by now. It started on ABC in 1960, and made the move to CBS last year. You're probably familiar with the story: a widower with three sons, "and when the older son got too big and got married to boot, well, they just booted him right out and adopted a new young ’un from next door." A show with this premise, Cleve rightly points out, could go on forever. Howeverand you must have known this was coming"We wish we could bring you better news—but the best we can offer is that NBC, so far, has no plans to carry it."

Lest you think Amory is being his usual curmudgeonly self here, I should point out that he does have some reasons for feeling this way, whether you agree with him or not. For one thing, the "single father with sons" genre has been done to death, Bonanza being probably the best-known (and most successful) example, given that The Brady Bunch hasn't come along yet, and is just a variation on the premise at that. (There are also, Amory notes, approximately 418 war shows that play off the same female-less premise.) "The idea is, of course, to show how impossibly difficult, heart-rendingly sad—and at the same time, of course, screamingly funny—it is for all the poor little just plain men to try to get along without the comfort and guidance of TV’s great big all-wise, all-wonderful women." It might be a pretty good idea, too, if it was shown in the morning, for just women. Maybe, Amory speculates, they could do a show about just women. And make them Amazons, so you could cover the war angle there, too.

As we all know, Fred MacMurray stars as Steve Douglas, and "if you recall Mr. MacMurray’s movie with Barbara Stanwyck called Double Indemnity, well, forget it. It’s just too sad that a man who could do that has to do this." Although, considering the sweetheart deal Fred had to work something like two weeks a year, it's at least understandable. He's aided in raising the boys by William Demarest's Uncle Charley, who replaced William Frawley upon the latter's death, and this character—"the everpresent side-kick, chief cook and bottle washer, father confessor and den mother—is regarded as the one essential ingredient in these shows." The role is as essential as that of the veteran M.D. mentoring the young doctor in Ben Casey, Dr. Kildare, Marcus Welby, and every other medical show you could think of. But I digress. Of Demarest's character, Cleve says, "he has so many ridiculous lines that he must long for the days of the silent pictures." And don't get him started on those commercials-in-character that include the same laugh track as the rest of the show. Maybe, he thinks, this does need a woman's touch at that; "it isn’t all-wise or allwonderful, but it sure deserves to be left all alone."

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Some footnotes from the TV Teletype: since McHale's Navy hasn't been renewed for another season, Tim Conway is looking for a new gig, and may have found one: he's made a pilot for a sitcom called Captain Nice. Now, if you're a fan of obscure shows, you'll know that Captain Nice does, in fact, make it to the fall schedule, but not with Conway: instead, William Daniels has the lead role. It plays out like a typical Conway-starring show: it's cancelled after 15 episodes.

Also leaving the airways this season is Perry Mason, and in "The Case of the Final Fade-Out," everyone gets into the act. Author Erle Stanley Gardner plays a judge, and many of the stagehands play versions of themselves in the story, which takes place behind the scenes of a successful TV series. One of the things that I really like about how the series ends is that writers have the right idea: at the fade-out, Perry, Paul, and Della are looking through the files preparing for a new case. Meaning that, unlike so many final episodes of long-running series, there is no real "end," just a sign that things keep going on--which, if you think about it, is a perfect way for a series to go into reruns.

Speaking of shows coming and going, The Ballad of Smokey the Bear is the latest Rankin/Bass holiday special, and it airs on Thanksgiving afternoon, with James Cagney as the star. Contrary to what the Teletype reports, though, Cagney is not voicing "the familiar furry fighter of forest fires," but is playing the storyteller, which is always the star role in a R/B special.  Barry Pearl, in fact, plays everyone's favorite bear. Meanwhile, singers Molly Bee and Rusty Draper are doing a pilot for Swinging Country, a music variety series that makes NBC's daytime schedule in the fall. It's Dick Clark's first sale to NBC. 

Also coming this fall is The Green Hornet, and Henry Harding reports that last week ABC announced that Van Williams, formerly of Bourbon Street Beat and SurfSide 6, will play Britt Reid, alias the masked crime fighter. This series, like Captain Nice, also has a single-season run, but it's a fun show to enjoy. It should have had a proper DVD release the same time as its stablemate, Batman.

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Saturday is the 92nd Run for the Roses, the Kentucky Derby (2:00 p.m., CBS), and from a field that was thought to be fairly uninspiring, the wonderfully-named Kauai King emerges triumphant, a feat he will repeat two weeks later at the Preakness, before finishing fourth in the Belmont Stakes. The legendary sportscaster Jack Whittaker hosts the broadcast; later on, he'll also host the debut of the game show The Face is Familiar (9:30 p.m, CBS), in which "celebrity guests join contestants in trying to guess the identities of famous personalities who are shown in scrambled photographs." I wonder which gig payed hm more?

Speaking of sports, if you're old enough (like me), you might remember the dismal days of the NBA in the 1980s, when CBS broadcast the finals on tape delay after the late local news, in order to avoid preempting their more popular programs. (How times have changed.) Well, here's something that would have been potentially even worse: a note that if the Stanley Cup final between the Montreal Canadiens and Detroit Red Wings went to seven games, NBC may show a tape of the game, which would have been played last night, at 2:30 p.m. As it happens, everyone's saved some casual embarrassment when Montreal defeats Detroit in overtime in the sixth game, winning the Cup four games to two.

Also on Sunday, a special that ties in to the theme we introduced in the lede. This is the darker side, though: the death of the American dream,  as seen through the weary eyes of a man seeing the end of his way of life. It's Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman (9:00 p.m., CBS), with Lee J. Cobb and Mildred Dunnock recreating their Broadway roles as Willy Loman, the titular salesman, and his wife, Linda. They're joined by George Segal and James Farentino, and a rare live-action appearance from June Foray. It's a relentless reminder of the price one often has to pay to achieve success, and what happens when it all comes to naught.

As we slide into a week dominated by reruns, we get an interesting meta premise on The Andy Griffith Show (Monday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), when a movie company pays Andy $1,000 for the film rights to his life story. What would really have been great would have been if the company's head had been Danny Thomas, playing himself (he did produce the Griffith show, which was introduced on an episode of The Danny Thomas Show), with a story that revolves around various real-life actors being considered to play Sheriff Andy. I wonder if television would have been ready for something like that back then.

On Tuesday, CBS Reports (10:00 p.m.) airs a provocative report on unidentified flying objects: "UFO: Friend, Foe or Fantasy." Among the guests are meterologists, government directors, authors, Col. Hector Quintinella, direct0r of Project Blue Book, the Air Force's investigation into UFOs, and an early appearance by Carl Sagan. And look at it: sixty years later, and we're still debating the issue. I wonder if the upcoming report (if it ever is released) will contain anything that wasn't discussed in this program. But if you want to stay in the mood, you can catch the sci-fi classic Forbidden Planet afterward (10:00 p.m., KTVU), where you can see some real flying saucers.

Wednesday gives us a look at life before the internet, as private investigator Larry Craig joins Art Linkletter on House Party (1:30 p.m., CBS) to reveal the names of missing heirs. Craig (not to be confused with the radio show Barrie Craig, Confidential Investigator) was an occasional guest on House Party, where he would enlist help from the viewers by publicizing these heirs to unclaimed estates, and update the results of previous searches. I don't know; you may prefer modern life, where we're all connected by no more than a click or two of a mouse, but I still have nostalgia for these days, when America seemed to be a bigger country, with more room to move—or hide, if you prefer

One of the great political thrillers of all time dominates Thursday's lineup: a repeat showing of John Frankenheimer's masterpiece The Manchurian Candidate (9:00 p.m., CBS), the Cold War chiller involving communist brainwashing and assassination, starring Frank Sinatra, Laurence Harvey, Angela Lansbury, James Gregory, and Janet Leigh. This holds the perennial top spot in my quadrennial list of favorite political movies; in a just world, this would have received more than just two Oscar nominations. It would be hard to find anything to compete with it, but the season's first rerun of The Dean Martin Show (10:00 p.m., NBC), does pretty well, with Louis Armstrong, Carol Lawrence, the Andrews Sisters, Rich Little, Gene Baylos, and Line Renaud.

On
Friday, a Flintstones repeat features Hollyrock movie star Stoney Curtis visiting Bedrock. (7:30 p.m., ABC) Stoney looks suspiciously like Tony Curtis, who, not coincidentally, plays the voice of his animated counterpart. I was never the biggest fan of The Flintstones, but I always enjoyed these clever celebrity tie-ins, such as the one with Ann-Margret playing Ann-Margrock. And tonight's late-night movie pick is the terrific Western, The Magnificent Seven (11:20 p.m., KPIX), with Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen leading a terrific cast. Oh, and Tony Curtis is back in the movie on KNTV, The Purple Mask (11:30 p.m.), raising money for the French Royalists in this adventure yarn. Dan O'Herlihy and Colleen Miller co-star.

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MST3K alert: The Brain That Wouldn't Die
(1960) "A scientist tries to bring his girl friend back to life. Jason Evers, Virginia Leith." (Friday, 11:30 p.m., KSBW in Salinas) That cartoon pretty much sums up this story of a mad doctor (are you surprised it's Jason Evers, at his smarmy best?) who keeps his fiancée's severed head alive while he tries to find a suitable body to graft the head onto. But then, what would Friday night be without a good mad doctor flick? Notably, this is also the first episode featuring Michael J. Nelson as the replacement for Joel Hodgson. The rest is history. TV
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May 1, 2026

Around the dial



Welcome to May, my favorite month of the year outside of the holiday months in fall and winter. Amidst the up-and-down weather so many parts of the country have had, we have a freeze warning here in Indiana. So let's see if we can find something to warm us up.

At Comfort TV, David explores "the psychology behind classic TV viewing," based on a YouTube video that attempts to explain what kind of personality types prefer watching shows they've seen 50 times rather than watch something new.

John's review of The Omega Factor at Cult TV Blog continues with episode two, "Visitations," as the death of Crane's wife continues to provide mystery, as well as the role played by Department 7.

Mr. T returns to the boxing ring in this week's A-Team episode, "Champ!" which is the subject of Roger's review at The View from the Junkyard. The Team aims at a group of corrupt operators, and all I can say is that I'm shocked that there is corruption in boxing.

Mary Beth Hurt, who did much work in both television and the movies, died last month at the age of 78, and at A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence looks back on her long and successful career.

I've never been part of the cult of Joss Whedon; I enjoyed Firefly enough, but I wouldn't say that it's anything remarkable. (I'll pause here while you cast aspersions at me.) At Cult TV Lounge, Maddie looks at Whedon's follow-up, the cyberpunk series DollhouseTV
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April 29, 2026

TV Jibe: What the stars watch on TV when they're home

TheAustinVerse, Deviant Art  

 
TV
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April 27, 2026

What's on TV? Wednesday, April 27, 1977



An appropriate story for this week's issue: you'll recall that on Saturday, I highlighted a story about the changing face of baseball with the coming of free agency, and how Andy Messersmith, a pitcher for the Los Angeles Dodgers, won his arbitration case to become the first free agent. Messersmith signed with the Atlanta Braves, then owned by Ted Turner, who also owned WTCG. Not long after that, Turner announced a gimmick where the players would wear their nicknames on their jerseys, instead of their full last names.  Messersmith, who wor number 17, insisted that his nickname was "Channel," thus the back of his jersey read "Channel 17." Now, check the listing below and find WTCG on the dial. Get it? The commissioner soon ordered Messersmith to change his "nickname" (he changed it to "Bluto"); eventually, WTCG was relabled WTBS, as in Superstation TBS. This epic story comes to you courtesy of the North Georgia edition. 

April 25, 2026

This week in TV Guide: April 23, 1977



As you know, this site is all about looking back at the past. And, of course, from the perspective of 2026, 1977 is the past—nearly fifty years, or just as many years as this issue was from 1928, one year before the start of the Great Depression.

Ellen Torgerson has an interesting article this week, the kind that Edith Efron would have written once upon a time, on teen viewing habits. It's interesting not because of what those habits are, but because of how they highlight the changes that have taken place over the past fifty years. If one were to ask the question "what teen-agers watch and why" today, the answer would be swift and decisive, and boiled down to two words: not television. Not when there's a world of TikTok and YouTube and social media out there, not when there's a world of "reality" programming that's streaming, not when their five-minute attention spans are spent, not on the current big thing, but what the next big thing might be. 

However, back in 1977, they did watch television, and in fact they have a "viewer fidelity" that is surprising to experts who condemn teens for their "faddishness and faithlessness" (as I just did above). In fact, one can see that from year to year, their favorites remain remarkably consistent: The Bionic Woman, Charlie's Angels, The Six Million Dollar Man, One Day at a Time, Laverne & Shirley, Happy Days. Occasionally a show will slide down the list a bit, or rise up, but for the most part things stay pretty much the same. And, in this sense at least, it makes perfect sense: heroes that are always in charge and never lose control; curvy women for boys to lust after and girls to aspire to become.

There's more to it than that, though, according to Dr. William Glasser, an authority on teen behavior (if anyone could be said to be an authority on them). Teens aren't all that different from everyone else, Glasser says; they "don't like complications. Like the rest of us, they tend to like television programs with unilateral motivation and uncomplex characters." And here we come to the portion that shows how, for all that we've changed in the intervening fifty years, human nature basically remains the same: "TV is an anxiety reducer; teen-agers have to deal with an increasing sense of powerlessness. They become frustrated and look for simple solutions. On TV, nobody is accountable. Sharsky and Hutch are never called before the captain to explain their actions. TV presents the world as simple, even though it's not. If a teen-ager sees himself as powerless, he can watch Baretta or Police Story (two other perennial favorites), any detective show, and feel powerful along with the characters on the show."

Mind you, this interpretation is far from universally accepted, even by teens, who tend to see this kind of analysis as both overly complicated and over-explained. Several said they liked Starsky and Hutch simply because "they'd just like to be able to drive their cars the way" the two protagonists do. A girl added that, "I like the way the two men are friends and take care of each other." Others said that they get satisfaction from how the younger sister on Happy Days pulls one over on her older brother, just like how they feel that way in real life. 

The Fonz is another popular character to them, not because he's particularly realistic of the era, but because he's what they want to be: "He has all the answers and exhibits antiadult behavior. He's a wise guy; his sarcasm is polished. Teen-agers admire that. They'd like to be like him if they dared." Girls find their equivalent in shows like Laverne & Shirley, where simple problems are provided with simple solutions that fit like a math problem. Says Annette Baran, a licensed clinical social worker, "kids will look at anything that either makes fun of authority or engages their sense of fantasy." 

Teens are like adults in another way, according to Baran; they're not unlike the average working man who plunks down in his favorite chair and turns on the tube. "They turn it on to anything. TV fills empty buckets. It's an antidote to loneliness and the boredom of not having anything to do The teen-ager doesn't want to talk to anyone in his family anyway. They'll only hassle him. TV doesn't talk back or make demands. And it can be a relief from doing homework or worrying about the terrible present or the impossible future."

I'll remind you again that this was written nearly fifty years ago. And yet, read that last sentence again, especially the part about the "terrible present or the impossible future." We tend to think of the past as being somehow better than the present, or at least not quite as bad. But how many young people (and older ones, for that matter) have those same anxieties today? Fears that they'll never get out of debt, that they're destined to have a life that's worse than that of their parents, that the world could be swept up in a global war. Instead of turning on the TV, they go online, where social media tends to feed those anxieties, to make them feel worse, not better. And if they do watch television, they're fed dark, brooding dramas or propaganda programs that try to instill in them an even greater sense of insecurity about who and what they are. 

Is this simply a case of life as it's always been, or is there more to it? Was television a soothing balm back then, or did it, in fact, distract people from those things that could provide them with more satisfaction, a sense of meaning, a calmness that the external world lacks? In heading for the latest screen, whether it be television or phone, are we simply turning our backs on the internal life, on the things in ourselves that we may be afraid to confront, and therefore try to drown out with louder and louder voices, until nothing makes sense anymore? I think we all know the answer to that, even if we don't want to admit it.

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On weeks when we can, we'll match up two of the biggest rock shows of the '70s, NBC's The Midnight Special and the syndicated Don Kirshner's Rock Concert, and see who's better, who's best. 

Kirshner: The Average White Band, Ray Barretto, David Soul, comic Tom Dressen, and the Mime Company.

Special: British rock is the theme of a show featuring Elton John, Rod Stewart, Fleetwood Mac, Genesis, Electric Light Orchestra, and Queen.

Do you even have to ask? The only reason I'd even hesitate is that for so many years, Tom Dressen opened for Frank Sinatra, and you don't want to disappoint The Chairman. But let's face it: this week there's no comparison, which makes it a special night for The Special: winner by a landslide.

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Despite that grim start to this week's issue, the past isn't always a source of angst, as we see in the two-hour CBS News Special "When Television Was Young" (Thursday, 9:00 p.m. ET). And the nice thing about this program is that, unlike many of today's shows about "pioneers of television," this one stays firmly rooted in the 1950's, when the medium really was young. It's hosted by Charles Kuralt, the perfect choice for a retrospective that combines history and nostalgia, looking at an imperfect era with an often romantic hue. We see the great triumphs of early television: series like I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, and Ed Sullivan, landmark anthology dramas from "Requiem for a Heavyweight" to "Twelve Angry Men," stars such as Paul Newman, Jack Lemmon, Grace Kelly and James Dean, and memorable moments from a time when baseball really was the National Pastime.

However—and you know there has to be one of those—there are also the dark times: the blacklist, the Army-McCarthy hearings, the Korean War, and the Quiz Show Scandal. Although the decade is remembered for serious, intense dramas, there's also a fair share of interference from advertisers and network executives, who often demand changes in the scripts: minor ones, such as a coffee sponsor objecting to characters drinking tea, and major ones, dealing with significant social issues such as race and sex. Some will seem silly, while others—Southern stations refusing to air programs with black entertainers—are appalling.

Ultimately, it is what it is, and that's what history's all about. It's critical that television remembers its own roots, even if many of today's viewers have no idea about it, or the people who created it. But then, if TV doesn't care, why should anyone else? Fortunately, this show exists in its entirety on YouTube; someone had the foresight to recognize its value and record it.

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Continuing with music, some interesting variety specials this week, a genre you don't see much anymore; you can still see concerts with stars like Adele and Lady Gaga, especially (but not exclusively) on HBO or Showtime, but not shows with the traditional Bob Hope-type format. On ABC Saturday night, Paul Lynde gets an hour of his own (8:00 p.m.), a traditional set up with musical guests and comedy skits. Paul's guests are Cloris Leachman, Tony Randall, LeVar Burton, and K.C. and the Sunshine Band, and Paul does a comic monologue about an encounter with an unfriendly alien... Meanwhile, there's the one last big network show, belonging to Carol Burnett (10:00 p.m., CBS), and her guest is a pretty big star himself, in stature if not size: Sammy Davis., Jr.

Variety shows aren't the only variety in this week's schedule; thanks in large part to the local stations, we have a top-notch slate of movies in this pre-movie channel era. Not so with the ABC Sunday Night Movie, alas, at least according to Judith Crist. That movie, For a Few Dollars More (9:00 p.m.), the second of the "Man With No Name" trilogy, represents, in Crist's words, "the sadism of allegedly adult adventure," not to mention "the kind of fun you can find at your neighborhood abattoir." That's more than a bit harsh when describing what's become a modern classic, but then, as I remember, she never did like Clint. Or Charles Bronson, for that matter. Oh well, we all have our blind spots.

It's back to music on Monday night, as Paul Anka hosts an hour special (
10:00 p.m, ABC), with Natalie Cole and Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, plus cameos from Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Ann-Margaret, Dean Martin, Don Rickles, and others (singing special lyrics to "My Way."). It's mostly Anka singing his hits from through the years, and he's got plenty of them.

NBC follows up with back-to-back country-flavored specials on Tuesday; the first, at 9:00 p.m., starring the aforementioned Ann-Margret... Rhinestone Cowgirl. While you let that image sink in for a minute, I'll mention that the special, taped at the Grand Ole Opry, includes appearances by Bob Hope (of course!), Perry Como, Chet Atkins, and Minnie Pearl. That's followed at 10:00 p.m. by an hour with Mac Davis, and his special guests Tom Jones, Dolly Parton, and Donna Summer, and 84-year-old Memphis guitarist Furry Lewis. I'm not quite sure how Bob Hope didn't wind up on this; perhaps it was just a conflict in schedules.

On Wednesday, it's more grist for Judith Crist's mill, as Jim Brown, Lee Van Cleef (fresh from For a Few Dollars More), and Patrick O'Neal star in El Condor (9:00 p.m., CBS). It's the first time on TV for this movie that models "the stupidities of sex and violence," although if you've seen in in the theaters, you might be disappointed to learn that Mariana Hill's nude scene has been cut. It is, Crist says, the Spanish equivalent of the spaghetti Western, an example of which we saw on Sunday. 

Elsewhere, George Burns co-stars with Abbe Lane in a 1975 special originally shown on the BBC (Thursday, 10:00 p.m., 
WXIA ). One of the things for which I'm grateful to classic television is the chance to see Burns in his prime, because by this time he's in what I'd call his "Dirty Old Man" phase, with Brooke Shields or some other comely young thing on his arm while he does a little singing and a little more leering. Quite frankly, I didn't much like that George Burns; the Burns of Burns and Allen, on the other hand, is a lot more fun.*

*Although from the stories we read, Burns had a wandering eye (and hand) as well.

The week rounds out with a pair of movies at opposite ends of the spectrum. 
For the kid in all of us, there's A Boy Named Charlie Brown, the 1969 feature-length Peanuts film (Friday, 8:00 p.m., CBS). The famous opening cloud-watching scene is "absolutely irresistible," but, Crist warns, "adults of any age will find the Rod McKuen songs as awful as his croaking of the title song." (Proving, once again, that McKuen is unsafe at any speed, or age. Oh, for the days of Vince Guaraldi.) It's on up against ABC's Friday night effort, "a silly rather than slanderous view" of cruise ships: The Love Boat (9:00 p.m.), in which a cast of good actors find themselves "trapped in tired little playlets." No suggestion that it's destined for long-run success.

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Baseball season is now in full swing, but the year’s biggest play didn’t happen on the diamond, or even a front office. It occurred, instead, in a board room, where on December 23, 1975, arbitrator Peter Seitz ruled in favor of players Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally in a case challenging baseball’s reserve clause, the provision in the standard contract that allowed teams to “reserve” the rights to players even after their contracts had expired. After the appeals process had played itself out, with the owners finally conceding defeat after losing in the federal courts, Major League Baseball and the Players Association sat down and negotiated the terms of free agency, with the result that many players chose to play the 1976 season without a contract, preferring to test the free agency waters after the season.

The 1977 season will be the first contested in this new environment, and the effect this will have on the game, both short- and long-term, is the subject of Tuesday's CBS Reports special, "The Baseball Business" (10:00 p.m.) Fans aren't so naïve as to think baseball isn't a business, of course, not with the strike from a few seasons ago; nonetheless, "free agents, player agents, million-dollar bonuses and long-term contracts" are guaranteed to change the way the game is played, and the way fans, players and owners see it. For this report, correspondent Bill Moyers travels to spring training to look at the team "many have singled out as the most flagrant practitioner of checkbook baseball"—and if you think that team is any other than the New York Yankees, you've got another think coming. Substitute the Los Angeles Dodgers for the Yankees, and you're right up-to-date.

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Staying in the sports arena, so to speak, here's a real collector's item: an article about Bruce Jenner in which the phrase "sex change" is nowhere to be found. The only transformation to be found is the one Jenner's making from track and field to the broadcasting booth with ABC, a challenge Jenner approaches the same way he did when he was in competition: "It may be a good idea," he tells Melvin Durslag. "But I first have to believe it myself, and that's what I'm trying to do."

The son of a tree surgeon, Jenner was an excellent all-around athlete in school, but he didn't try track until he was 20, and didn't get into the decathlon until 1970. Six years later, he won the gold medal at the Montreal Olympics, setting a world record in the process. He admits that his dedication to preparing for the Games put a strain on his marriage, but he hopes that giving up the competitive world of sports will make a new man out of him, and heal the divisions—for the time being, at least. (They divorce in 1981.) Now that he's made himself over, Jenner hopes to start an acting career as well, and as this article is being written, he's won a small part in a movie called SST—Death Flight.

ABC is bullish on Jenner's future, but as Durslag notes, the athletes most successful at making the transition from the playing field to the broadcast booth—Frank Gifford, Pat Summerall—did so only after long hours of preparation and worth, and the ability to win over their non-athlete colleagues. Concludes Durslag, "[Jenner] has an incredible personality. This will carry him for a while. But how far he goes from there will be up to him." One thing's for sure: as is the case with any former jock, a new life awaits Bruce Jenner.

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One more sports note, and one has to wonder if we won't see something like this come to pass in these days when the sports dollar controls so much of television: Sally Bedell reports that ABC is investigating, and may consider cancelling, the United States Boxing Championships tournament it's been broadcasting, in an attempt to return big-time boxing to the small screen. It was launched in the wake of the Rocky phenomenon, complete with the theme, and for awhile things seemed to be looking good. 

Of course, the first indication of trouble should have been obvious when Don King was announced as the producer of the tournament. With nine of the sixteen shows still unseen, a Federal grand jury has opened an investigation into alleged fight-fixing and kickbacks. One unnamed fighter from Texas (later identified as Kenny Weldon) testified that he had to pay $2,500 to enter the tournament, while fighters signed to personal contracts by King were rumored to have been awarded dubious decisions over non-King fighters. 

Jim Spence, VP at ABC Sports, acknowledges that the series is in trouble, and that "One of our options is to discontinue the tournament. If we find additional incidents we could well end up canceling. If we don't we will probably continue." Despite the allegations, Spence sees a bright future for boxing on television, although he concedes that the sport requires "more careful supervision than other events televised by the network." 

In the end, an investigation spearheaded by Alex Wallau of ABC and New York journalist Malcolm Gordon uncovered further irregularities, including evidence that rankings for some of the boxers had been artificially inflated by the prestigeous Ring magazine (the "bible of boxing), "publishing results of fights that never took place for those boxers and then updating those boxers' fight records to reflect such non-existent bouts in order for them to be accepted into the tournament by ABC." By the time this issue of TV Guide went to press, the network had already KO'ed the series. 

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Finally, a touch of irony: on Sunday night, part 15 of Upstairs, Downstairs (9:00 p.m., PBS) takes us to the Great Depression of 1929, when James and Rose are both wiped out by the stock market crash. Remember what I said at the beginning of this piece, about 2026 being as far from 1977 as 1977 was from 1928? That really makes Upstairs, Downstairs a period piece, doesn't it? 

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MST3K alert: Marooned (1969) Oscar-winning special effects enhance the tension as mission control races against time and a threatening hurricane to retrieve three astronauts trapped in space. Gregory Peck, Richard Crenna, David Janssen, James Franciscus, Lee Grant, Gene Hackman, Nancy Kovack. (Wednesday, 8:00 p.m., W0SB in Atlanta) Marooned is the only film featured on MST3K to win an Oscar, and so it's appropriate that when it was shown, it was under the name Space Travelers, having been redistributed byFilm Ventures International, "an ultra-low-budget production company that prepared quickie television and video releases of films that were in the public domain or could be purchased inexpensively." I like to think that this (and the terrible new opening and closing credits which they pasted on it) is what makes it MST3K-worthy. TV
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