There's lots of good stuff out there, and I've been negligent lately in pointing it out to you. Let's take a look, shall we?
Cult TV Blog revisits one of my favorite shows, The Avengers, looking an an episode early in the show's run and making a very good point about the need to appreciate how a show may appear different to us today than it did to the viewers when it was originally broadcast. And don't forget to page down and read some of his terrific pieces on The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Comfort TV takes a look at an interesting topic - when actors and roles don't mix. It's something I haven't thought that much about before, but reading the examples given both in the article and from the comments section, I have to admit it's almost as much fun as it is when we recast shows with our favorite actors in roles they never played.
A great blast from the past at the Broadcasting Archives at the University of Maryland - a 1985 newspaper clipping of Buddy Ebsen, late of The Beverly Hillbillies and more recently Barnaby Jones, and one of his biggest fans - Richard Nixon. "I don't look at much entertainment television," the former president says, "but I liked Barnaby Jones. It was a good mystery where you knew the good guys from the bad guys." Please tell me I'm not the only one picturing the Most Interesting Man in the World - "I don't always watch television, but when I do I watch Barnaby Jones". . .
Television Obscurities notes something that I should have thought of - yesterday was the 61st anniversary of the publication of the first national issue of TV Guide, with Lucille Ball's new baby (the "$50,000,000 baby") on the cover. And no, I don't have that issue. I have rent to pay.
The Bootleg Files is a great source for oddities from television and movies that, for one reason or another, haven't received a commercial DVD release. This week: the 1974 Tony Awards (which can be seen on YouTube). As Phil Hall reminds us, "TV broadcasts of awards shows weren’t always so dreary" as they are today, a point I've often made with regard to the Oscars. This show sounds like great fun - perhaps the producers of today's awards shows can check it out?
This should keep you satisfied until tomorrow, when we're back with another great TV Guide! TV
April 4, 2014
April 1, 2014
When TV series say goodbye
When I'm not watching television (which, you may be surprised to learn, is actually most of the time), I'm often reading about it, including shows and series that I never watch. (And if you think that's strange, well, there are even stranger things about me you'll never hear about.)So even though I didn't see it last night, it's impossible to not have read about the final episode of How I Met Your Mother which, I gather, stirred a fair amount of controversy among fans and critics. I've written in the past about the final episodes of series, how some of them work and others don't, and how some series that should have had one never did. Which begs the question: why does every series have to have a wrap-up episode? It's one of the pitfalls, I suppose, of the increasing serialization of television: the need to have an end game, a conclusion that wraps up all the loose ends and ephemera that have been created during the course of storytelling.
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| Isn't it true we didn't really know anything about Perry? |
I could go on, but my point is that until relatively recent TV history, the "final episode" was unique. And the reason, in large part, has to be because today's shows are far more character-driven than plot-driven. I was skimming through some of the comments about last night's HIMYM, and a good chunk of them referred in one sense or another to how the show had become constrained by its storyline - certain characters behaved in ways that seemed to betray that development, all in the service of a preconceived story that might or might not have been valid based on the lives the characters had taken on during the course of the show's run.
As prime-time programming borrows from the soap opera playbook, it's inevitable that viewers see the series as one with a definite beginning, middle and end, requiring a final episode. When we've invested years in a series, we want to know how everything turns out, what happens to the characters with whom we've grown old. Contrast that with the episodic series, where each storyline was self-contained (with the occasional two-part episode), and it was fairly easy to assume that the series would never end, that in a sense the characters would just keep on doing what they had been doing until the actors playing them died.*
*Or found themselves a new series. Even so, I can't help but think of Perry Mason defending a client who'd been busted by Robert Ironside.
And you know what - I'm OK with that. I don't think every series has to consist of a gimmick, a hook, some kind of story that arches over the length of the show's run. I don't necessarily want to watch a character grow, change, evolve, whatever you want to call it - sometimes it's good to have a dependable archetype to come back to week after week.* The trend we see today is a trend that, frankly, I wouldn't mind seeing disappear, or at least diminish.
*A good example of this is Nero Wolfe. I have no interest in seeing these characters grow old, or in wondering what happens to Archie when Wolfe retires from crimefighting. And apparently neither did Wolfe creator Rex Stout; although the stories were generally set in contemporary times, the characters themselves never aged, nor was there any explanation how Archie remained a young man in the 60s even though he served in World War II.
I'll grant you that there are shows that had to have a final episode: The Fugitive had to stop running, it made sense for Route 66 to finally come to the end of the trail, and as I've mentioned before, Hogan's Heroes should have had one. But you'll notice that all these shows were built around a specific concept (a gimmick, if you prefer) that, because of its finite nature, justified a conclusion to the story. Many of today's series don't fall into that category organically. They come that way because the series itself is less about the plot and more about the character, which means that even if Perry Mason continues to defend the innocent and uncover the guilty for years to come, his own personal story is what the viewer wants resolved.*
*If it were being made today, the conclusion would probably involve the resolution of Perry and Della's relationship which, you know, inquiring minds and all that.
I don't think it's a coincidence that the rise in serialized storytelling comes in an Oprahfied world. The personal is now what matters - the cops in today's police procedurals spend at least as much time romancing their partners and fighting their own personal demons as they do catching the bad guys. A little of that is OK, but when it gets to be the norm, when every series has to end its season with a cliffhanger and end its run with some kind of grand, bringing-down-the-curtain finale, then we've got a problem. The cliffhangers are stupid - you know all the regulars are going to survive, unless someone's contract is up, in which case they might as well be wearing a red shirt in a Star Trek episode. And the finale, as was the case with HIMYM, The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, Lost, True Detective and almost every other series*, is never going to please everyone; indeed, if it tries, it usually winds up pleasing no one.
*Including The Fugitive, which introduced a heretofore-unseen character in the final episode to help resolve things, and Route 66, the last episode of which is considered by many to be one of the weakest of the whole series. Nevertheless, as one writer pointed out, these episodes often have a way of aging well.
If anything, the lesson learned last night may be that it's not the best idea to plan out an entire beginning-to-end story arc without considering that the characters themselves, as they develop, might have a say in the matter. For as much as the writers may try to claim that they're only portraying real life, real life rarely comes with a script included.
March 29, 2014
This week in TV Guide: April 5, 1958
When, the cover asks, will we see new movies on television? Back in April of 1958, could one possibly have imagined that someday you'd be able to pay to see a movie on television the same day it premiered in theaters? Or that the quality of some home theater systems would eventually rival that of a movie house? That there would be entire networks that would show only movies, uncut and without commercial interruption (for a fee, of course)? Or that you didn't even need television, just a machine into which you could put a tape or a disc and watch your favorite film, any time you wanted, usually less than a year after it premiered on the big screens? This, I think, is one of the biggest ways in which we've changed the way we think about television, as a form of entertainment. You don't even have to read the article - the headline says it all.I do read the article, of course - it's part of my service to you, the loyal reader. And the consensus is: television is hurting the theaters. As our story opens, theater bigwigs are gathered in Mike Romanoff's Beverly Hills restaurant trying to figure out how to keep "new" movies - defined as those produced since August 1, 1948 - from making it to TV. The Sindlinger research organization estimates that movie exhibitors have lost $50,000,000 due to movies being shown on TV, and that to release the post-'48 movies would be "'suicide' for the entire movie industry."
TV Guide, of course, isn't so sure about that. Yes, it's "probably true" that old movies on TV have had an effect. But there's also the high price of movie tickets (which in 1961 was $0.69), the increasing number of "boisterous youngsters" turning a trip to the theater "into an unpleasant experience," and that movies just might not be as good as they used to be. And then there's the "dilemma" for talent guilds (actors, writers, producers, etc.) - on the one hand, they'd love to get the revenues that would come from selling newer movies to TV. At the same time, they fear the effects on their business if television really is that harmful to the industry, so much so that if the studios decide to sell newer movies to TV, the guilds could strike. In between are the television stations themselves. They want the new movies, yes, but they point out that with over 10,000 already available, they can afford to wait for awhile.
Who knows where it will all end? Well, of course, we do. As I said at the top, I wonder if they could have imagined it?
***
Gail Storm probably isn't that familiar to most readers today. She's on the cover because of her eponymously-named series, which also went by the subtitle Oh! Susanna.*
*And what a clumsy thing that seems to be. The opening credits contain both The Gale Storm Show and Oh! Susanna. It's hard enough to come up with a title for a program, let alone two.
In the pages of this week's TV Guide, she's conducting interviews with five journalists - entertaining, cajoling, firing off one-liners, and using her considerable charm. In between, she consults with her maid, deals with press agents and photographers, asks her mother to put on a pot of coffee, all while tossing off amusing bon-mots. Pete Rahm, of the st. Louis Globe-Democrat, notes that "Miss Storm is as wordy and polite as she is beautiful," and notes her diplomatic answer to his question about the popularity of her two series - My Little Margie and Oh! Susanna - "What she really said in her roundabout way was: 'You dope - nobody liked Margie but the people. You bonehead - nobody but the same people watch Susanna.'"
It's no surprise that Storm is able to handle things with such a positive manner. In her later years, Gale Storm fought an ultimately successful battle against alcoholism. According to the always-reliable Wikipedia, she once made the remarkable statement that "During my struggle, I had no idea of the blessing my experience could turn out to be! I've had the opportunity to share with others suffering with alcoholism the knowledge that there is help, hope, and an alcohol free life awaiting them." As I say, remarkable - I have great, great admiration for anyone who can embrace suffering and turn it into a positive, not only for herself, but for others as well. An admirable, remarkable woman indeed.
Some highlights from this New York edition of TV Guide:
Saturday: NBC presents Bob Hope's latest special, his trip to Moscow. The monologue takes place at the American embassy, while Bob narrates films of Russians skiing and sledding, takes a look at modern apartments, tours St. Basil's, and chats up three popular (and, knowing Hope, good-looking) Russian actresses.
Sunday It's the final round of The Masters, and CBS' cameras will be covering the final four holes, with John Derr and Jim McKay behind the mics. Up against The Masters, NBC's Omnibus presents a 90-minute adaptation of Christopher Fry's elegant verse comedy "The Lady's Not For Burning," starring Christopher Plummer and Mary Ure in the story of a lovely young woman believed to be a witch. The title makes for a memorable pun by British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher many years later when, in assuring the Conservatives that she will not make a U-turn away from her economic agenda, she tells them that "The lady's not for turning."
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| Tuesday: In the day, Lonesome George Gobel was big stuff. |
Wednesday: The King of Swing, Benny Goodman himself, stars in a color special on NBC, hosted by Today's Dave Garroway and featuring Harry James, Ella Fitzgerald, the McGuire Sisters, Jo Stafford, Ray Eberle, Teddy Wilson, Red Norvo, and Bambi Linn and Rod Alexander. If you don't recognize all those names, trust me - this is one major league big-name cast. As my wife would say, "too bad they couldn't get someone famous."
Friday: Speaking of movies on television, as we were at the start, WCBS presents the New York television premiere of James M. Cain's noir classic The Postman Always Rings Twice (from, ironically, 1946), starring John Garfield and Lana Turner. Even though neither Garfield nor Turner are among my favorites, it's miles ahead of the Nicholson-Lange remake. There's a real elegance to the movie's ending, a noir ending if ever there was one. Garfield and Turner have gotten away with the murder of Turner's husband (played by Cecil Kellaway), when an auto accident kills Turner and leaves Garfield on trial for supposedly murdering her. Even though he's innocent of this crime, he realizes that both he and Turner are paying the just price for Kellaway's murder - after all, as he puts it, "the postman always rings twice."
Regular readers know that Christmas editions of TV Guide are among my very favorites, particularly because of how TV used to program for the season; Christmas Eve in particular was filled with church services. Easter, on the other hand, always seems to have had a lower profile - or so I thought. But this edition gives us a look at how Easter was covered in 1958, and I daresay it's going to present quite a different picture from what we'll be seeing in about three weeks. Some of that could be because this is a New York edition, but I think a lot of it has to do with how the culture itself has changed over 55+ years.
The day starts at 7am (ET) with WCBS' coverage of the Easter service from St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church in Manhattan. They follow this at 10 with the Solemn Pontifical Mass at Holy Cross Cathedral in Boston, presided over by Archbishop (and future Cardinal) Richard Cushing. At 11, WCBS carries another Episcopal service, this time from Washington's National Cathedral, while WRCA, the NBC affiliate, broadcasts from Christ Episcopal Church in Cincinnati. Later on, WRCA presents a 30-minute feature on Easter Vigil* services throughout France. Later in the evening, WNHC in New Haven carries a Solemn Benediction and Easter music from the Channel 8 studios. Oh, and then there are some of the regular Sunday religious shows, such as the Christopers program on various stations.
*A note for Catholic liturgical buffs - we're so conditioned to the "New Mass" being that introduced following the Second Vatican Council, we might be puzzled to see reference here to the "restored" liturgy - in fact, the liturgical services for Easter week had recently been heavily revised by Pius XII.
In addition to those church services, there are plenty of Easter-themed programs. For example, WCBS has Hill Number One, which still pops up from time to time, a story about GIs preparing to storm a hill during the Korean War, known primarily as the film debut of James Dean, while WRCA's Frontiers of Faith presents "This Prisoner Barabbas," starring Richard Kiley and Vera Allen, with George C. Scott as Pilate(!)*.
*Not to be confused with Hallmark Hall of Fame's "Give Us Barabbas," seen in the last couple of issues.
All is not so heavy, though. WOR's The Easter Story tells the history of Easter-egg dying (not really the "Easter story," if you ask me), and then WPIX has live coverage of the traditional "Easter Parade" up and down Fifth Avenue, while WRCA has a celebrity Easter luncheon from the Hotel Gotham, hosted by commentator Arthur Van Horn and his wife, columnist Phyllis Battelle. And later that afternoon, NBC Opera Company presents Mozart's delightful comedy Cosi Fan Tutte, which doesn't have anything to do with Easter or religion, but is a fun special nonetheless.
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| SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION |
- Rocket Deluxe Golf Cart: $21.95
- Excello Rotary Riding Mower: $299.50
- Raleigh Bicycle: $59.95
- Chrysler Windsor 4-Door Sedan, with push-button torque-flight transmission and white sidewalls: $3,472.55
- Chrysler 300-D Convertible, with the same options plus custom-conditioned air heater, power steering and other power equipment: $5,703.40
- Total value of the showcase: $9,557.35.
March 25, 2014
We can be heroes, just for one day
Originally posted at Our Word and Welcome to It on June 4, 2008
The nice thing about collecting vintage TV Guides is that you never know what you're going to find when you open the pages. The latest series of acquisitions to the Hadley library includes the issue of April 27, 1974. Watergate and cynicism are riding high at that point in time, along with the rise of "relevant" television. Against that backdrop, writer Edith Efron hosts a roundtable discussion on the question of "What makes a hit" television program. Among the participants is the famed television producer of the 60s and 70s, Quinn Martin (The Fugitive, The FBI, The Streets of San Francisco, among many hits). In the course of the discussion, Martin talks about the values he imparts in his programs, one of which is the belief in heroes:
But I want to come back to this talk about heroes, because it ties into an article written a couple of weeks ago by James Bowman. The topic: Indiana Jones and the death of the traditional hero.
Now I know what you're thinking. "Who, you might ask, could possibly be more heroic than Indiana Jones?" I thought the same thing; I've always had a soft spot for Indy and his larger-than-life adventures. Yet I'll concede the point to Bowman, at least in part. For, according to Bowman, Indiana Jones has changed the landscape of the movie hero - and not for the better:
Oh well. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
Unfortunately, the reverse is also true, for as time goes on, things often change beyond recognition.
***
And by the way, for those of you wondering about the title of this piece, here is the original reference point.
The nice thing about collecting vintage TV Guides is that you never know what you're going to find when you open the pages. The latest series of acquisitions to the Hadley library includes the issue of April 27, 1974. Watergate and cynicism are riding high at that point in time, along with the rise of "relevant" television. Against that backdrop, writer Edith Efron hosts a roundtable discussion on the question of "What makes a hit" television program. Among the participants is the famed television producer of the 60s and 70s, Quinn Martin (The Fugitive, The FBI, The Streets of San Francisco, among many hits). In the course of the discussion, Martin talks about the values he imparts in his programs, one of which is the belief in heroes:
We're hitting the great heartland of America, and they want shows where the leading man does something positive, and has a positive result. Every time you go against that, you can almost automatically say you are going to fail. . . I believe in heroes myself. And I know that people sitting in American living rooms will just not accept an antihero, or a bad protagonist.The conversation continues as to what makes a hero, and again Martin is firm in his belief that being a hero requires heroic actions. He's joined in the discussion by Star Trek guru Gene Roddenberry, and Grant Tinker, creator of the Mary Tyler Moore and Bob Newhart shows:
Efron: Didn't the relevant shows tend to be antiheroic shows?This is a fascinating discussion on many levels. For one thing, it shows how much television has changed. The antihero - that is, the protagonist who doesn't act in the classic hero mold - is now pretty much the de rigeur lead in most television shows. And for Quinn Martin, who couldn't imagine the American public identifying with a bad protagonist - well, suffice to say that he would not have been able to imagine the taste of the American public today.
Martin: I'm nt sure. The ones I remember [young, idealistic, public interest lawyers and activists]. . . had heroic people - but they were all involved in very heavy material.
Roddenberry: But were they heroes? Were they faced with jeopardy? Going around and helping people is not being faced with jeopardy. They weren't heroes.
Tinker: No, they weren't heroes. The Storefront Lawyers, all those shows had protagonists who were social-worker types. They were all antiheroes. . . They were cheek-turners. I can't remember a cheek-turner who has ever made it in TV.
But I want to come back to this talk about heroes, because it ties into an article written a couple of weeks ago by James Bowman. The topic: Indiana Jones and the death of the traditional hero.
Now I know what you're thinking. "Who, you might ask, could possibly be more heroic than Indiana Jones?" I thought the same thing; I've always had a soft spot for Indy and his larger-than-life adventures. Yet I'll concede the point to Bowman, at least in part. For, according to Bowman, Indiana Jones has changed the landscape of the movie hero - and not for the better:
[Jones] was outwardly a man among men, just like the movie heroes of old when played by John Wayne or Gary Cooper. But it quickly became apparent that, underneath that fedora and leather jacket, there beat the heart of a superhero — someone whose adventures could not have taken place in the world as we know it but only the comic book world formerly confined, cinematically, to Saturday morning serials. Since then the cartoon hero has proven to be a particularly stubborn growth in the cinematic garden, a hearty weed which hoovers up all the nutrients and starves more delicate flora. He is the kudzu of the movie culture, the zebra mussel that has taken over a whole entertainment ecosystem. Today, apart from anti-heroes and victim heroes, it’s cartoon heroes all the way. And now we welcome back the prototype of the cartoon hero if he were a hero indeed. Perhaps we’ve forgotten what real heroes look like.From here, Bowman discusses the general slide of the movie itself into a form of social amusement for teens, with disasterous results: "the taste of the American 8th grader has become the world’s taste." This state of perpetual adolesence, Bowman concludes, has led to the denigration of true heroism - with the cartoon hero being the only hero most people see, it becomes harder and harder to appreciate what a truly heroic act is, and the kind of courage and sacrifice that heroism requires in real life:
But if you go back and look at the best John Wayne movies — The Searchers, say, or Stagecoach or Red River or Fort Apache or The Sands of Iwo Jima or The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance — they are full of difficult moral choices. The hero fails at least as often as he succeeds and he sometimes dies. It’s a lot like real life. We admire the John Wayne hero just because he’s not a Superman — or an Indiana Jones.Ah, but it's too black-and-white for us today. And that's the true irony of it, for back in the smarmy, cynical 70s, we ridiculed Quinn Martin and his like for creating simplistic, one-dimentional characters. Efrem Zimbalist Jr., the hero of The FBI, was a cardboard creation, we said, too good to be believable. Now, we live in a world where our heroes have traveled 180 degress, and we embrace them precisely because they're too good to be true. Heroism is just another means of escapism, something with which we need not concern ourselves in our daily lives.
Oh well. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
Unfortunately, the reverse is also true, for as time goes on, things often change beyond recognition.
And by the way, for those of you wondering about the title of this piece, here is the original reference point.
March 22, 2014
This week in TV Guide: March 25, 1961
It's possible you might be getting just a bit tired of 1961, since we've spent most of March there. To tell the truth, regardless of my affinity for the year I'm getting a bit tired of it as well. However, you deal with what you have, and for some reason March was never one of the big months in my collection. Therefore, we're back to '61 one more time!Unfortunately, in many respects this week's issue looks a lot like last week's. NBC telecasts the NIT championship from Madison Square Garden on Saturday afternoon (Providence defeats Saint Louis 62-59), Channel 11 covers the championship of the Minnesota State High School basketball tournament Saturday night, and on Palm Sunday evening Hallmark Hall of Fame presents James Daly in "Give Us Barabbas." Armstrong Circle Theatre is on both weeks, and Paul Hartman, subject of a feature story last week, is a featured player this week in NBC's Bell Telephone Hour on Friday night.
Don't despair, though - there are certainly enough differences for us to be able to squeeze something interesting out of this week.
***
For example, Gary Cooper. Coop is, in the words of TV Guide, "what few actors become in their own lifetimes - a living legend." He's profiled in TV Guide this week because of his appearance on NBC's Project 20 documentary series on Wednesday night, as host and narrator of "The Real West," Project 20 uses a "still-picture style" familiar to us today in the works of documentarians like Ken Burns. Although Cooper figures only 25 or 30 out of the more than 100 movies he's done have been Westerns, he knows that "people still seem to think of me as a Western actor," and for good reason: movies like High Noon (for which he won the second of his two Oscars) have made good use of his laconic, dignified style.
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| SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION |
Cooper makes quite an impression in this unbylined piece, his engaging manner belying his stolid reputation. He's "easily at home in a $250 Savile Row suit as in a $2.50 pair of blue jeans, and can, with exactly the same natural aplomb, order cracked crab and white wine on the French Riviera or a hamburger and a cup of coffee at a Montana roadhouse." He exhibits an easy, friendly style; when asked about his reputation, he explains how he came by his strong, silent persona: "I learned very early in my career that nothing you ever say gets quoted verbatim by the press. So for many years I just clammed up and didn't say anything. I guess now I've reached the age where I don't particularly care. Anyway, I talk."
This is a rare TV appearance for Cooper, the first "role" he's ever played aside from playing himself on variety shows and awards presentations. He's not sure about the medium: "What I object to about television is not the shows so much as that box you've got to watch them on. It's small and it's the best there is. It seems to me manufacturers could make much better TV sets than they do." As for future appearances, "I've pretty much stayed away from television and I don't know that I'll ever really get into it on a serious basis. It looks to me like just too much hard work."
Sadly, these words are truer than perhaps even he imagines. I don't know when this interview is conducted, but the month before it appears, in February, Cooper is told by his doctor that the cancer which originated in his prostate and since spread to his lungs and bones is terminal. Less than a month after the issue hits the newsstands, at the Academy Awards presentation, Cooper is too ill to accept an honorary Oscar, which is accepted for him by his friend James Stewart. One month later, on May 13, 1961 - less than two months from the date of this issue - Gary Cooper dies.
***
Keeping with the theme of Hollywood and TV, there's Alfred Hitchcock on the cover. Last year, he and the production team behind his NBC series Alfred Hitchcock Presents put out a modest little move called Psycho, which turns out to be Hitch's biggest hit, earning him his last Academy Award nomination for Best Director. How do you follow up something like that?
By doing what you do best. After a year of slumping ratings, Hitchcock has returned to his roots, emphasizing "the strange and bizarre kind of murder tale that is Hitch's particular pet." People have gotten used to him being offbeat, he says, and so the answer is to become more offbeat, even macabre. He's filmed episodes written by his Psycho partner Robert Bloch and short-story master John Collier, stories that "might curdle the blood of a werewolf."
There's a catch to this kind of success, though, as Hitch points out. "I can't make just any picture I want to. I've got to make a suspense picture. If I don't the audience keeps waiting for the body to be found. Same with television. I've got to have the surprise, the twist ending." Which is, he says gleefully, that the husband can get away with murdering his wife. Until the coda, that is, when Hitchcock generally dispenses some sort of retribution that suggests the killer didn't get away with it after all.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents premiered in 1955; it's now in its sixth season. By 1962 the show has expanded to an hour (retitled, appropriately, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour), and will run until 1965, one of the longest-running anthology series in TV history.
***
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| SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION |
Later that same Tuesday, ABC presents a look at the first two months of the Kennedy Administration in it's Close-Up! episode "Adventures on the New Frontier." It's impossible to miss the optimism of these days; a young, vital administration, manned spaceflight aiming for the moon, new advances in technology, and television itself a growing medium. And, notwithstanding the space program, the majority of these advances were simply designed to make life easier - kitchen appliances, color TV, automotive amenities. There was a feeling that we could do anything. Just take a look at the advertising of the era (and maybe sometime we will) - do we get that excited about much today? And do we have that much confidence?
***
Here's another similarity to last week's edition: Robert Goulet. This week, he's appearing on NBC's Omnibus Sunday afternoon, in a show entitled "An Omnibus of Songs." His costars are Edie Adams and Broadway actor Myron McCormick, and the trio perform all-American music from the Victorian era to today.
Omnibus follows another music program on NBC, as NBC Opera Theatre presents Moussorgsky's Boris Godunov, featuring one of the greats to sing the title role, Giorgio Tozzi. At only two hours, it's a truncated version of the opera, but anything to get a chance to hear Tozzi sing.
You say you want more music? Well, over on Channel 11 the pianist Miklos Schwalb is the guest on the half-hour World Artist's Concert Hall. Not to be left out of the mix, CBS has Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour at 4pm, followed by G-E College Bowl, pitting RPI against Fordham - which at halftime features a discussion of college admission requirements by the presidents of Notre Dame, Bates and Colorado College. College Bowl was only a half-hour show; couldn't have left much time for a significant discussion.
See what you miss when you give over the whole weekend to televising sports?
***
ABC's The Untouchables is in the crosshairs again this week, but for once it's not the show's violence that's the focal point. Or not exactly, at least. This time it's the program's portrayal of Italian-Americans.
To flash back for a moment: in last week's issue, we learned that "several hundred members of the Italian-American Democratic Organizations of New York" had picketed in from of ABC's New York headquarters, protesting how the series portrayed Italian-Americans. They were led (naturally) by a politician, New York Rep. Alfred E. Samtangelo that "The 21,000,000 Americans of Italian ancestry on whose behalf these pickets parade . . . will not permit ABC-TV to commercialize on crime and to paint America to the world as a nation of violence, shooting and murder" - all committed, one supposes, by Italian-Americans. Samtangelo concluded that this was "our first step toward our objectives in cleaning up the TV industry."
This week we find that Liggett & Myers's the biggest sponsor of The Untouchables, has announced it will not renew its sponsorship of the show for next season, along with two other shows - Adventures in Paradise and Asphalt Jungle. L&M denies that this decision has anything to do with a threat from the longshoreman's union to refuse handling any of L&M's products as long as they sponsored the show - it is, they insist, due to ABC moving The Untouchables to a less desirable time slot. Needless to say, "industry executives who have been close to the situation privately pooh-poohed this explanation, alleging that the boycott was the real reason."
In other words, we have not one but two flashpoints at play here - not just the ever-popular "violence on television" argument, but the "politically-correct-defamation-of-ethnic-groups" card as well. I suppose one could draw a contemporary parallel if a current show portrayed organized crime as being run by Hispanics, or a show on terrorism in which the bad guys were exclusively Muslims. It's pretty easy to imagine the outcry that would create! And yet it says something about the culture of the times that an ethnic group such as Italians would be outraged by The Untouchables.
Ultimately, there's a compromise: Desi Arnez's production company agrees not to create any more Italian-named fictional hoodlums*, to emphasize the Italian-American Nick Rossi in his role as Ness' right-hand man, and to underline the "formidable influence" of Italian-Americans in reducing crime. I dunno, that sounds to me like something between pandering and condescending. Did people really think all Italians were members of the Mafia? I know that things were rough at the turn of the 20th Century, but by 1961?
*The Untouchables always had a tenuous hold on the facts, with their stories arousing the ire not only of the aforementioned Italian-Americans, but the FBI as well, who claimed that ABC was crediting Ness' men with accomplishments that should actually have gone to the FBI.
But then, Frank Sinatra was upset about this as well - as I recall, he even challenged Desi Arnez to a fight over it. So if the Chairman of the Board takes offense at it, then maybe I shouldn't downplay it.
***
There's also an update here on the ongoing feud between Ed Sullivan and Jack Paar. It all starts with Sullivan's objection to paying out thousands of dollars to entertainers to appear on his show, only to then have them turn up on Paar's Tonight for the minimum of $320. Not, Sullivan stresses, that he has a problem with them talking with Paar; it's the performing part of their visit that bothers him. He goes on to announce that anyone who does his act on Paar for $320 will only get that amount from him as well.
Naturally, Paar - who never met an argument he didn't want to get involved in - strikes back. After the comedian Myron Cohen cancels an appearance on his show, Paar announces that he wanted NBC to put him on head-to-head against Sullivan - and we'd see who gets the bigger ratings. The two men then agree to debate the issue on Tonight March 13.
Of course, the debate never comes off. Sullivan says Paar "welched out," changing the terms of the debate; Paar counters by calling Sullivan "a liar" on the March 13 show, which gets the biggest ratings in the history of Tonight. Incredibly, each man goes on to claim defeat - Sullivan says Paar outmaneuvered him, that he has no chance in the propaganda war, that Paar was quicker and wittier and had changed the terms of the debate to highlight this. Paar, on the other hand, suggests that he's lost the press fight, but that his viewers appreciate his "brave and courageous" stand. He adds that while the two men could no longer be friends, he'd drop the issue if only a couple of Paar's guests could go on the Sullivan show for the "going rate" (as opposed to the minimum $320).
If this all sounds a bit childish, consider the sources. Paar probably had to take time off from other feuds to engage in this one with Sullivan, who for his part sounds petty and threatened. I seem to recall a picture in Life magazine portraying the two men as puppets - why, yes, it's right here:
Somehow, I don't think they made anyone forget the Kennedy-Nixon debates. TV
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