April 11, 2014

Race to Riches - 1967

This ring a bell with anyone?  It's from a late-60s series called Race to Riches.  This ad appeared in the Fayetteville, NY Bulletin, but Race to Riches was syndicated throughout the country, and I've found mention of it in many grocery store newspaper ads, not to mention the TV Guide.  In Minneapolis, the show appeared weekly on the independent station, WTCN, Channel 11.

I watched this show faithfully, because at six years of age I was already a racing buff.  The format of the show was simple, kind of like auto racing bingo: Over a 30-minute broadcast, highlights of a race would be shown.  At four points in the race, the standings would be shown, and you'd circle the number of the cars in the first four positions.  At the end of the broadcast, if you had four-in-a-row, either up and down, sideways or diagonally, you were a winner! Your prize: none other than S&H Green Stamps.

I realize I've seriously dated myself in several ways here, not only by giving you a good idea of how old I am (although I've always been pretty up-front with that for those of you who read between the lines), and by talking about Green Stamps.  It does not, however, mean that I'm ready for Social Security (not that there's anything wrong with that).

This show really does seem to come from a different era, as an example of the early interactivity of local television when Dialing for Dollars was a big deal and stores looked for ways to work with television to bring in customers.  It's somewhat odd, I think, that you can't find out much about it on the Web; there's no footage on YouTube, and the only mentions of it outside of the ads themselves (at least that I could find) have been in a handful of auto racing message boards.  Were it not for the ads, I might doubt my own memory and wonder if the show had ever existed.  Anyone out there with anything to add?

April 9, 2014

The magic of the past - what classic television tells us about ourselves

We all like classic television around here; that goes without saying.*  Besides the entertainment value, which is considerable, the shows of the past tell us something about ourselves and the times in which we watched them.  For example, it's often said of fans of Doctor Who that your favorite Doctor depends in large part on who was playing the role when you were growing up.

*If you don't, there are better places to hang around .  Trust me.

In a perceptive article at the AV Club, Brandon Nowalk writes about discovering a brand new world, one he scarcely knew existed:*
Late one night a couple of years ago, I stumbled upon an exciting new channel out in the back alleys of my cable package. That’s when I first laid eyes on Peter Gunn, which was exotic even apart from its shadowy look and circus-murder hook. I was bewitched from the moment the carnival barker interrupts the mystery of a stranger draping a reticulated python around a woman in the shadows. And that was just the beginning. Practically the entire programming schedule was new to me—a shaggy case-of-the-week PI show, a small-town drama in the middle of its 13th season, a horror anthology grasping at Val Lewton.
*The articles to which Nowalk links are well worth reading as well.

In addition to Peter Gunn, the shows Nowalk was watching were The Rockford FilesGunsmoke, and Thriller - all shows new to Nowalk.  I know that may be hard for us to believe, steeped as we are in the minutiae of old television, but Nowalk was enchanted by the revelation, which is something that should make all of us happy.  Describing MeTV, the station on which all these shows appeared, Nowalk writes that "its lineup of reruns manages to rival the best slates of the 21st century."

Nowalk refers to this lack of familiarity with the shows of the past "television's cultural amnesia."
When television fans lose their familiarity with classic television, every little formal discrepancy—from black-and-white to a multi-camera format to more obviously stylized performance—leads to perceptions that older TV is dated. And that, in turn, leads to blanket dismissals.
Which brings me back to my initial paragraph.  It's reasonable to assume that we all have a bias toward the television of our own time, which is why today's viewers call Breaking Bad "the best drama television has ever had to offer" - which it might well be, but it's pretty hard to make that claim stick by ignoring the first sixty or so years of television's history. "Don’t we lose more than we gain by constantly promoting the new and hip at the expense of the old and unfamiliar?"

In addition to losing our knowledge of television's past, though, we run the risk of losing touch of our own cultural past.  I often point out how the shows of yesterday offer us a window to the world of yesterday - one which is only approximated in period shows such as Mad Men.  I suppose this isn't a real surprise, given that these kids nowadays think history started about ten minutes ago.  But looking at the shows from the 50s and 60s introduces us to a world of wonder, in which walking on the moon was a fantastic dream; a world of apprehension, in which the threat of nuclear annihilation was a real and present danger; a world of comfort, in which the two-parent family was the norm, and neighbors looked out for each other.  We look at the stereotypes of women and minorities and see how things have changed, we see cars and fashions and marvel how technology has evolved.  We see the small towns and byways of America in the 60s, and wonder at how completely different the country has become.  We see travelogues of distant lands, and dream of travel beyond our own homes.

This is our world - the world that has been shaped by generations past.  When we lose touch of it, we lose touch of ourselves.  It's part of the magic of classic television - the magic of memory.  It's like looking through a family scrapbook, where we can watch ourselves grow, and grow old.  When we suffer from amnesia, when we lose touch with our roots, we are the poorer for it, for as Nowalk writes in conclusion, "To the untraveled viewer, the horizon is endless. I highly recommend exploring." TV  

April 5, 2014

This week in TV Guide: April 9, 1966

We're a hard lot to please, aren't we? First we wonder when TV's going to give us new movies, and now we complain about the ones they won't let us see!  It sounds a lot more sinister (or provocative) than it really is.

For the most part, we're talking about movies that don't appear on TV because of rights problems of one kind or another, something we've gotten all too used to when it comes to the release of DVDs. The Cat and the Canary, a 1939 flick with Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard, 1947's Life With Father with William Powell, Irene Dunne and Elizabeth Taylor, and Irving Berlin's This Is the Army are among dozens of movies that have fallen victim to the inability to reach an agreement with the rights owners, usually the widows or estates of the authors.

Other movies are no-shows for various reasons: Anna and the King of Siam was kept from television so it wouldn't compete with its musical version, The King and I.  The Buccaneer, The Desert Song, and So Big are among films that the studios themselves have withheld in order to protect remakes.  And when movies are remade - Show Boat, Cimarron, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for example - the originals are often shelved to avoid confusion, or have their names changed - the original State Fair, starring Dana Andrews and Jeanne Crain, became It Happened One Summer to differentiate it from the newer version, with Pat Boone.  Blockbusters from years past - Gone with the Wind, the Disney movies like Pinocchio, Bambi, Snow White - are re-released periodically, and as long as they continue to make money for their studios, they'll be MIA on TV.

Have no fear, though; there's confidence that many, if not all, of these movies will eventually make it to the small screen - one way or another.  For example, a note elsewhere in this issue tells us that ABC has just paid a reported $2 million for the rights to the Oscar-winning Bridge on the River Kwai.  I just checked: you can get it today at Amazon for $8.48 and watch it as often as you want.

***

During the 60s, the Ed Sullivan Show and The Hollywood Palace were the premiere variety shows on television. Whenever they appear in TV Guide together, we'll match them up and see who has the best lineup.
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Sullivan: Scheduled guests: comic Alan King; Count Basie and his band; dancer José Greco; actor Eddie Albert, who reads James Weldon Johnson's dramatic narrative "The Creation"; English comedian Richard Pryor; Brusini, a magician; and Anden's Poodles.

Palace: Host Gene Barry presents comedian Wally Cox; the singing McGuire Sisters; Dodger pitching stars Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, who join Milton Berle in a comedy sketch; Tim Conway, who portrays the inventor of a matchmaking machine; the Mamas and Papas; the Lenz Chimps; and the Hildalys, French high-wire motorcyclists.

Good lineups this week.  Most of you know I'm a Gene Barry fan, and Tim Conway is presumably is usually funny self.  Koufax and Drysdale are appearing during their joint holdout against the Los Angeles Dodgers, when they were trying to demonstrate to management that they had other options.  They didn't, and while Drysdale had a so-so year, Koufax went on to win 27 games with only a week's spring training.

But I'm going with Ed this week.  Alan King, whom I also like, Count Basie, who's always a must-see, José Greco, one of the great dancers of his time, and Eddie Albert - whom I'm not particularly a fan of, but Johnson's "The Creation" is an appropriate choice for Easter.  (And probably would have been better read by Tennessee Ernie Ford.)  I don't know about that "English" comedian Richard Pryor, though.  Can they be talking about him?  The verdict:  Sullivan.


***

Speaking of Easter - as was the case with last week's issue, this Sunday is Easter.  But whereas Easter Sunday 1958 was chock full of religious programming, it's a different story in 1966.  There's a morning concert of Easter music by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on CBS, a an afternoon music program on NBC, a presentation of the drama "The Easter Angel" on ABC, and "The Triumphant Hour," the story of the Resurrection (featuring Raymond Burr as Peter) on Family Theater.  Locally, the Gustavus Adolphus choir sings Easter music on Channel 4, as does the Spooner High School choir on Channel 10 in Duluth.  And that's about it.  There are a couple of local church services, but those are on every Sunday, Easter or not. Interesting, don't you think?

So what else is on Sunday?  Well, the Stanley Cup playoffs on NBC (joined in progress, as was the practice with Hockey Night in Canada until 1968), the NBA playoffs on ABC, and The Masters are on CBS (as they were last week).  And at 3pm CT on ABC, it's a repeat of Lady Bird Johnson's tour of Washington, DC, spotlighting her beautification campaign for the nation's capital.

***

I like to think of 1966 as a bit of a cultural watershed, at least on television, a time when the realities of the 60s and the remants of the 50s coexisted on our screens.  It's the final season for ABC's The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet (which debuted on the network in 1952, and has made the transition to color for its final season) and The Donna Reed Show (which started on ABC in 1958), but it's clear that the traditional family sitcom is living on borrowed time.  At the same time, and on the same network, ABC Scope reports on "the war's effects on the Vietnamese peasant."  Although the war still has support from a majority of the American population, protest is in the air; later in the year Muhammad Ali will refuse military induction, and the next year Martin Luther King will come out against the war.  A series on NET called Radical Americans examines "the positions of campus leftists and the traditional members of the Communist Party and the Progressive Labor Party."  And those kids who are part of the post-Korea boom, the age portrayed on Ozzie and Harriet and Donna Reed, will be part of the revolution.

Children's programming still populates the after-school hours; Bozo, Popeye, Captain Atom, Casey and Roundhouse, Bart's Clubhouse among them.  Barbara Eden still can't show her naval in I Dream of Jeannie, and Lawrence Welk and his Music Makers still entertain on Saturday nights.  Cowboys, doctors and cops take up significant space on the nightly grid, along with ABC's pair of "adult" dramas, Peyton Place and The Long Hot Summer, starring this week's cover star, Roy Thinnes.  Combat and Twelve O'Clock High tell the story of World War II, while Gomer Pyle portrays life in the stateside camp, with nary a hint of Vietnam in the air, and Gunsmoke's stalwart Matt Dillon shares the network with the James Bondian stars of The Wild, Wild West.

The phrase "ln Living Color" is no longer uncommon, as all three networks have liberally integrated their lineups with colorcasts - and yet prime time has yet to fully convert from black and white, with shows from Secret Agent and I Dream of Jeannie to The Fugitive and F Troop yet to make the transition.  Individual stations face the same difficulties - joint NBC/ABC affiliate KCMT in Alexandria broadcasts color programs such as The FBI and Run For Your Life in black and white, and KSTP is the only Twin Cities station to air its local newscasts in color.  Of course, there are countless B&W programs in syndication from years past, shows like The Untouchables and Wanted - Dead or Alive that are part of the classic TV lexicon today, but remain a staple of local programming until the color era renders many of them obsolete.

An interesting time, don't you think?

***

A short note on sports - the Minnesota Twins have released their television schedule for the 1966 season. The team, coming off their 1965 American League pennant and heartbreaking World Series loss to the Koufax-led Los Angeles Dodgers, will be television a total of 50 games this season, four at home and 46 on the road.  By contrast, how many of the Twins games will be on TV this year?  I believe, including games that might be carried on national and regional telecasts, that number would be 162 - in other words, all of them.  Whereas Channel 11 was the flagship Twins broadcaster in 1966 (and for many years afterward), today's games are carried on OTA stations, cable networks, and more.

And the start date of the 1966 Twins season?  Opening Day, against the Kansas City Athletics, is April 19 - in contrast to this year's Twins opener, which was played on March 31.

***

SOURCE: HADLEY TV GUIDE COLLECTION
Sometimes we run into those "where are they now" moments, when we read about someone who was supposed to become the Next Big Thing, someone that we've never heard of and has an IMDb listing of one or two lines.  An example would be heavyweight boxer Jim Beattie, featured in Friday night's ABC documentary "The Big Guy".  The show covers Beattie's preparation for an upcoming fight against journeyman Dick Wipperman.  Beattie, who weighs in at 6' 9" and 240, is touted as a future contender for the heavyweight crown, but his career never really fulfills that early promise - he retires in 1979 with a record of 40-10, with his closest whiff of the crown coming in the 1970 James Earl Jones movie The Great White Hope, where Beattie plays "the Kid."

By contrast, later that night NET features a concert by the Los Angeles Philharmonic, conducted by Zubin Mehta.  Mehta is only 29 and is viewed as a rising star, and that view more than comes to fruition.  Over the course of a long and successful career, Mehta becomes the Music Director of the New York Philharmonic, holding the position for longer than anyone else, and wins additional fame for his appearances conducting the Three Tenors.  For his work with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and others, he receives a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.  And to top it off, he's married to TV and film star Nancy Kovack.

***

The ratings system has been a bone of contention almost from the beginning of television.  Throughout these TV Guides, one reads of complaints from creative artists, producers, viewers and critics about the pernicious influence of ratings, particularly the tendency of networks to dumb down programming in order to attract the lowest common denominator.  One look at 1966's programs would tend to reinforce this thought, from the cornpone humor of The Beverly Hillbillies to the escapism of Jeannie and Batman.  Some of the shows are more intelligent, more literate, than others, but nobody's calling 1966 a new Golden Age of Television. I can only imagine that this next story must add some fuel to the fire.

Seems that a man named Rex Sparger is admitting - boasting, if you want to be honest - about how he rigged television's ratings four separate times.  Sparger, who's currently the object of a $1,500,000 lawsuit by A.C. Nielsen as well as a subject of interest to the FCC and various members of Congress, allegedly mailed questionnaires to 58 Nielsen families, accompanied by $3 and a request to watch Carol Channing's recent ABC variety special, with the promise of an additional $5 if they complete and return the questionnaire.  In addition to the Channing show, he lays claim to rigging the ratings of Bob Hope's Vietnam show and two other programs he won't name - "I want to see if Nielsen can find out which ones they were."

Sparger says he did it "to expose the ratings and to obtain material for a book he's writing, 'How to Rig TV Ratings for Fun and Profit."  Eventually, as Hugh Beville's book Audience Ratings documents, Sparger admitted everything "and was enjoined from writing or publishing books or articles referring directly or indirectly to Nielsen without referring them to [the accounting firm] Ernst & Ernst" which would check said writing for "false and libelous" statements about the company.  In return, Nielsen dropped the claim for punitive damages.

Which, I suppose, explains why How to Rig TV Ratings for Fun and Profit doesn't show up at Amazon. TV  

April 4, 2014

Around the Dial

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 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.

Isn't it true we didn't really know anything about Perry?
Take, for example, Perry Mason.  The last episode in that series, "The Case of the Final Fade-Out," resolved nothing; Perry, Della and Paul were presumably going to continue on as they had been for the previous nine years, with Hamilton Burger always getting the short end of the stick.  The real function of the episode was to act as something of an inside joke, with Mason creator Erle Stanley Gardner serving as the trial judge, and others from the crew playing various roles.  There was no resolution because nothing needed to be resolved.  Or how about Mission: Impossible?  Do we know what happened to Jim Phelps and his team after the last episode?  Do we even care?  After all, we know virtually nothing about any of them, and the only time we've ever seen Jim's apartment is when they're putting another mission together.  And do we really need to know anything about Steve McGarrett besides the fact he hates bad guys?

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.