What's on TV? Thursday, December 25, 1969

Here we are on Christmas Day, 1969, the last Christmas of the decade. Sometimes Christmas can feel like an anticlimax, with everything building up to the big day—and then, just like that, it's all over. Of course, we all know that Christmas doesn't end on December 25; that's when it begins, and it lasts for twelve days. But modern society doesn't see things that way anymore, so even if you want to keep celebrating, society doesn't make it easy. Things are still hopping today in this Northern California edition, though: .

As usual, we're looking at the listings for Christmas Day, but I thought I'd do something a little different this year: instead of going through all the Christmas shows in detail, I've just highlighted them in red. There are some, however, that merit a little more information than what shows up in the listings. For instance The Today Show visits wounded Vietnam servicemen recuperating in Japan, sending their greetings to loved ones back home.

That episode of The Lucy Show that's highlighted is "Lucy, the Choirmaster," in which Lucy conducts a Christmas choir. The Christmas episode of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is a dream episode called "The Ghost and Christmas Past," with some wishful thinking involved. Dragnet airs its traditional Christmas episode, "The Christmas Story," a remake of "The Big Little Jesus" that aired first in 1953 and was updated in 1967, with many of the same cast members. 

At 6:30 p.m., KTXL has the 1955 made-for-TV version of "The Miracle on 34th Street" that first appeared on The 20th Century Fox Hour, with Thomas Mitchell as Kris, Macdonald Carey and Teresa Wright as Fred and Doris, and Sandy Descher as Susan. Although I don't agree, some critics thought it was better than the theatrical version.

A detail on the North-South Shrine college football all-star game, which used to be a Christmas tradition in the 1960s and early '70s: this year's game includes a name you might recognize from the South All-Stars, one Terry Bradshaw, quarterback from Louisiana Tech.

Finally, there's one more show that's worth mentioning, even though the cast is listed below: The Dean Martin Christsmas Show, a repeat from 1967, with Frank Sinatra and his family joining the Martins, including Dean's wife Jeanne. As Richard K. Doan notes, it comes from what is euphamistically referred to has "happier times," since Jeanne has announced she and Deano will be getting divorced because, she says, he has "met someone new." (They eventually divorced in 1973.) But, hey, you've got to stay together for the sake of the viewers, even if it is on tape!

This week in TV Guide: December 20, 1969

Xor those of a certain age, this week's cover might remind us of the harvest gold refrigerator or stove we had in the early 1970s. It's a lovely illustration, drawing on images of both angels and the dove of peace, but it's also very much a color of its time. And so, as we approach the final Christmas of a tumultuous decade, our festival of holiday programming hits its stride. As usual, we'll cover Christmas Day itself as part of Monday's listings, which still leaves plenty to look at—how did people find the time to watch it all?

It begins on Saturday, with a three-hour Musical Christmas (12:30 p.m. PT, KOVR in Sacramento), including local musical groups along with the United States Air Force Christmas Show. At 7:30 p.m., we're treated to the annual Christmas shows of both Andy Williams (NBC) and Jackie Gleason (CBS); Andy's joined by the Williams Brothers and the Osmond Brothers, while Jackie presents the fourth airing of "The Poor Soul in Christmas-Land." ABC joines in with a doubleheader starting at 8:30 p.m. with Lawrence Welk's annual Christmas treat, followed by Perry Como hosting The Hollywood Palace (which you'll read about below).  

Sunday morning, Margaret Truman Daniel hosts an hour of Christmas carols from Europe, originally telecast in 1961 (8:00 p.m., CBS). At 10:30 a.m. KCRA in Sacramento begins a block of Yuletide cheer with the Sandler & Young Christmas special; they're joined by the U.S. Air Force Symphony and the Airmen of Note. That's followed by holiday music from the Yuba City High School at 11:00 a.m., the half-hour drama Unto Us a Child is Born at 11:30 a.m., and The Sounds of Christmas at noon, featuring Carmen Dragon and the Glendale Symphony Orchestra. At 12:30 p.m., Jonathan Winters hosts a Christmas part for children from Navy families. The festive programs continue following AFL football, with Christmas Our Way (4:05 p.m.), featuring Skitch Henderson and Marilyn Maye, and the Saga of Western Man documentary "Christ is Born" at 4:35 p.m.

The prime-time highlight is a rerun of the all-time great How the Grinch Stole Christmas (7:30 p.m., CBS), narrated by Boris Karloff. That's preceded by a Christmas episode of Lassie (7:00 p.m.), and followed later by The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour (9:00 p.m.), which includes a generous portion of Christmas music. In the meantime, the Wonderful World of Disney presents part one of "Babes in Toyland" (7:30 p.m., NBC), with Ray Bolger, Tommy Sands, and Annette Funicello. The NET debate program The Advocates (7:00 p.m.) asks whether or not Christmas has become too commercial. I'll give you a hint: the answer is "yes." Less cynically, The Ray Coniff Christmas Show gives us a pleasant hour of Christmas music; he's joined by Mr. Ed's Alan Young (6:30 p.m., KRCR in Redding).

On Tuesday, CBS offers an abridged version of The Nutcracker (7:30 p.m.), hosted by Eddie Albert and starring dancers Edward Villella, Patricia McBride, and Melissa Hayden. At 8:30 p.m., NBC's Tuesday Night at the Movies presents the classic White Christmas, with Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera-Ellen, while The Red Skelton Hour repeats 1967's "A Christmas Urchin," a charming, hour-long Freddie the Freeloader story with guests Howard Keel (in a rare, mostly non-singing role), Joan Freeman, Linda Sue Risk, and Jullana. And at 10:30, the Oral Roberts Christmas Special (KXTV in Sacramento) includes singer Anita Bryant and U.S. Senator Mark Hatfield. 

Christmas Eve, Wayne Newton hosts the Kraft Music Hall in a holiday musicale (9:00 p.m., NBC), with the Cowsills, Jack Wild, Julie Budd, the Singing Angels, and Christopher Hewett (later remembered as TV's Mr. Belvedere) playing Charles Dickens. At the same time, ABC presents a repeat of "The Legend of Silent Night," one of the great "lost" Christmas specials, narrated by Kirk Douglas and starring James Mason as Franz Gruber, composer of the much-loved hymn. Many people have been looking for this movie for a long time. And over on KTXL, Bing Crosby reprises his Oscar-winning role as Fr. Chuck O'Malley in The Bells of St. Mary's, co-starring Ingrid Bergman. (You can see Going My Way tomorrow on KXTV.) 

And with Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin both having the night off, both NBC and CBS have Christmas programs leading up to midnight: Skitch Henderson conducts the NBC Orchestra in a program of holiday music, joined by the Robert Shaw Chorale (11:30 p.m., NBC), while CBS has the Tucson Boys Choir performing at a 17th century Spanish mission near Tucson. (In case you're wondering, Regis Philbin hosts the Bishop show tonight, in the dying days before Dick Cavett takes over.) At midnight, NBC broadcasts the Midnight Mass from St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City; CBS carries a rerun of Berlioz's magnificent oratorio "L'Enfance du Christ," with Metropolitan Opera stars Giorgio Tozzi, Helen Vanni, and Sherill Milnes, first shown in 1964. Quite a way to usher in Christmas.

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

Sullivan: Ed reviews the decade in entertainment. At press time, the taped segments (many from Ed’s shows) were to include The Beatles, Barbra Streisand, Diana Ross and the Supremes, Judy Garland, Sophie Tucker, Tony Bennett, Tiny Tim, David Frost (looking at the decade in film), Petula Clark (the British Invasion), Robert Goulet (highlights from Broadway), Peter Gennaro (a look at dances), Herb Alpert, and Louis Armstrong.

Palace: Perry Como celebrates yuletide with Diahann Carroll, Edward Villella of the New York City Ballet, comic Shecky Greene, and puppeteer Burr Tilistrom’s lovable Kukia and Ollie. Perry sings "Home for the Holidays," "Love in a Home," "Christmas Eve," "The First Noel," "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing," "Christ Is Born," "Carol of the Bells," and "Holy Night," and duets with Diahann on "Silver Bells".  

Special episodes this week! We've gotten used to Bing Crosby doing his annual Christmas clambake on Palace, but after four years, he's taken the show to NBC; Perry Como more than adequately fills in on Palace's final Christmas edition (which you can see here), with a fine supporting cast, although Shecky Greene does seem to be a little out of place. Ed, meanwhile, offers a retrospective of the "Swinging, Soulful Sixties" through a barage of clips that pretty much summarizes the entire decade, and how the Sullivan show was responsible for bringing it to us. These episodes weren't made to compete, and this week they don't. We'll just sum it up with a Merry Christmas!

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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. 

To Rome with Love, Cleveland Amory assures us at the outset, is no Forsythe Saga. But let's get past that groaner and on to the show itself. Like John Forsythe's previous success, Bachelor Father, it involves Forsythe playing a single dad (a widower, this time, bringing up not one, but three precocious daughters), a college professor who left his home in Iowa for a new position in Rome after his wife's death. (Many people have left Iowa for far less.) He and his family are followed by his sister, Harriet (Kay Medford), who tries to convince them to come back to Iowa.

By far, says Clevel the best thing about Rome is Forsythe. who "has an almost unbelievable ability to be both believably funny and believably touching at the same time, even when the script is beyond belief." And Susan Neher, as middle daughter Penny, is "really extraordinary." The supporting cast also includes Vito Scotti, who's good in almost everything he's in, and Peggy Mondo. Kay Medford and her comedic talents, however, are totally misused here—or is it nonused? 

The series is nearly done in, however, by the writing. Oh, many of the ideas are fine, but the endings, though often clever, don't ring true. And the fact is, oftentimes, there doesn't seem to be anything going on. As Penny remarks, "Isn't there something better than going through the same old routine day after day?" In the world of sitcoms, that's certainly the case, and when nothing happens on-screen, you can be assured something will happen off-screen soon enough; Kay Medford will be replaced by Walter Brennan in the second season, but to no avail, and To Rome with Love doesn't receive enough love from viewers to make it past two seasons.

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This weekend, the American Football League playoffs get started, with the winners meeting in two weeks' time in the final AFL championship game. On Saturday, the defending Super Bowl champion New York Jets host the Kansas City Chiefs (10:30 a.m., NBC), while Sunday sees the Houston Oilers taking on the Oakland Raiders in Oakland (1:00 p.m., NBC; blacked out in the Bay Area). The Chiefs defeat the Jets in a 13-6 slugfest, the Raiders rout the Oilers 56-7; on January 4 the Chiefs win the championship and a trip to the Super Bowl, upending the Raiders 17-7.

Chuck Berry and Gordon Lightfoot are among the headliners in ABC's short-lived 45-minute music show The Music Scene (Monday, 7:30 p.m.). Meanwhile, Tiny Tim is the guest on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In (8:00 p.m., NBC), doing "a vocal tribute to the past." And since we're looking at interesting casting tonight, the syndicated game show He Said! She Said!, a forerunner to Tattletales, has an interesting lineup: in addition to New York Mets star Ron Swoboda and his wife Cecilia, Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee, and Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, we have NBC reporter Nancy Dickerson and her husband, industrialist C. Wyatt Dickerson. I can see her on What's My Line, but somehow I wouldn't have expected her on this.

On a night dominated by Christmas programming, the late Earl Holliman appears as a tormented priest in Marcus Welby, M.D. (Tuesday, 10:00 p.m., ABC), suffering from asthma attacks that Dr. Welby suspects are psychosomatic, due to his agitation over dealing with the problems of disaffected youth in his parish. For a change of pace, you might be interested in the movie version of Gian-Carlo Menotti's opera The Medium (11:30 p.m., KXTV), starring Marie Powers (who originated the role) and Anna Maria Alberghetti.

Those who think that politicians are marketed like products (with advertising to match) can look back to Joe McGinniss's classic The Selling of the President 1968 (reviewed here) to chronicle just how this came about; McGinniss is the guest tonight on Bob Cromie's Book Beat (Wednesday, 8:30 p.m., NET), which unfortunately comes too late for anyone to purchase the book as a Christmas present, but it's worthwhile nonetheless. If politics isn't your thing, you might want to catch The Beverly Hillbillies (8:30 p.m., CBS), with Soupy Sales as Air Force ace Jetstream Bradford, Mr. Drysdale's nephew. 

It's of some interest, I think, that with one week to go to 1970, we are still seeing black-and-white movies shown on prime-time network television—and not "classic" movies such as It's a Wonderful Life or Casablanca, but regular, albeit high-quality, movies. We have not one but two examples of this, starting on Thursday with Me and the Colonel (9:00 p.m., CBS), starring Danny Kaye and Curt Jurgens, which Judith Crist calls "a warm, poignant and very human comedy" of a Jew and an anti-Semite thrown together in an attempt to escape Paris before the Nazi occupation. And on Friday, Irene Dunne and Rex Harrison star in Anna and the King of Siam (9:00 p.m., CBS), which, Crist says, "will come as a revelation for a generation brought up on "The King and I" as the ultimate version of the Margaret Landon book." Dunne is lovely as Anna, while Harrison's king displays a "character and temperament as fascinating as the Yul Brynner model."

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Robert de Roos profiles Lloyd Nolan, also known as "the unforgettable man from many forgettable movies." It's not a knock on Nolan, an actor's actor with the reputation for making anything he's in a little better; rather, it stems from a charming anecdote with which de Roos leads his story, of the time when Nolan and his wife were watching television "and a picture came on—starring me. It was the strangest thing. I couldn't remember ever having heard of the film before. I don't really believe I was in it—but there I was on the tube."

Lloyd and Mell Nolan   

I've often wondered about that, whether movies or television shows make as much of an impact on those acting in them as they often do with those viewing them. But, in Nolan's case at least, it's hardly surprising; at this point, he'd appeared in 114 movies, many of them B-pictures at Paramount, "which operated on the theory that any tired story could be made fresh and new if the acting was artful enough." "We had some of the damnedest scripts I ever saw,," Nolan recalls. "Most of the time we couldn't figure out who was the star." 

But, as de Roos correctly points out, even bad movies—or, at least, mediocre ones—couldn't stop Nolan from becoming a star. His most famous role came on Broadway in 1953, as Captain Philip Queeg in "The Caine Mutiny Court Martial," a role he reprised on a live broadcast of Ford Star Jubilee in 1955, for which he'd win an Emmy. His co-star, Barry Sullivan, remembers that "We both were nominated for the Emmy, and I voted for him. I'll bet Lloyd was a unanimous choice." Sullivan, who also appeared in the play on Broadway, is one of many actors who pay tribute to Nolan's talent; "I thought I knew a lot about acting, but Lloyd's so enormously good you can't help absorbing something from his work. He turned in one of the two or three greatest performances of the American theater."

Today, Nolan plies his trade on the sitcom Julia, which he took on the understanding that "the job was challenging and not too much work, and the pay enough." Says star Diahann Carroll, "Aside from teh fact that Lloyd is a nice human being to spend time with on a film set, I love the sense of professionalism he contributes to the atmosphere here. All of us consider ourselves lucky to have him around." His agent, Bill Robinson, says that "He never tries to impress you but he can always get what he wants without fanfare." In fact, there are times when he'll actually suggest eliminating some of his lines; "I can say the same thing with a gesture or a look." 

Nolan is gearing up for an expanded role in this season's episodes; in addition to playing Dr. Morton Chegley, Julia's boss, he's also taking on oocasional appearances as his 92-year-old uncle, Norton. "For the first time since he's been on the show, he asked to see all the dailies and he sat there chuckling all the way through," says producer Hal Kanter. "He told me, 'This is the first time I can remember laughing at myself on the screen.' " 

His success on television hasn't changed him much, except that he's recognized by more fans than ever. "It makes me feel good," he says. "When someone says, 'Thank you for all the pleasure you've given me over the years'—that's an extra dividend."

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In the Teletype, a note that "Armchair athletes should be in their glory on Jan. 11," as CBS plans six-and-a-half hours of sports coverage, starting with an NHL game between Montreal and New York, followed by Super Bowl IV. Of course, the Super Bowl isn't played in the daytime anymore, and six-and-a-half hours of sports is nothing, considering we have entire channels devoted to sports today. Not to mention that as 1969 turns to 1970, New Year's Day will feature a solid ten hours straight of football. Now that's a feast for sports fanatics.

Richard K. Doan says that Merv Griffin's late-night show may or may not be in trouble. The brass at CBS aren't pleased with the ratings, which may be one reason why Merv's out on the West Coast right now, the thinking being that Hollywood stars mean higher ratings. (He'll eventually move the show out there permanently.) On the other hand, commercial time is sold out, and the show's reported to be "highly profitable." One person who's not happy with the show is Merv himself; tired of the network's meddling in guest selection and the like, he'll negotiate his way out of his contract by the end of 1971, and go back to his highly-successful syndicated program.

And I've mentioned before that Richard Nixon, though he may not have been the most comfortable politician on television, was certainly one of the savviest. If you need more proof, his advisers scheduled his December 8 news conference in a time slot immediately following Laugh-In and Here's Lucy. The resulting audience, which NBC estimated at 65 million, was probably larger than that afforded in any other time slot. And it's not just that; the president ended the conference precisely a half-hour later, limiting any post-conference analysis by networks eager to return to scheduled programming. 

Finally, one of those head-to-head confrontations between big-time specials that used to drive viewers crazy in the pre-VCR days. It happened on Sunday, November 30, with Olympic champion Peggy Fleming and the Ice Follies on NBC, up against Simon and Garfunkel on CBS, in the network's old Smothers Brothers spot. The results: Fleming and company finished #2 in the ratings for the week, behind only the "virtually untopable Bob Hope," while S&G were met with the sound of silence, finishing #64.

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MST3K alert: The Crawling Eye (English; 1958) In a radioactive cloud lies a tentacled monster, awaiting its victims. Forrest Tucker, Laurence Payne, Jennifer Jayne. (Saturday, 8:30 p.m., KTXL) One of Forrest Tucker's finest roles (and I'm not being sarcastic) sees him as a UN consultant investigating mysterious goings-on at a village in the Alps. Two of the most notable members of the supporting casts aren't listed here: Janet Munro, who enjoyed a very successful film and television career, including three Disney movies; and Andrew Faulds, who goes on to star in the UK series The Protectors before serving more than 20 years as a Labour member of Parliament. TV  

Around the dial

This little guy's got his priorities right: his television set and his cat. It doesn't get much better than that. But if it did, you can bet one of these shows would be on the tube.

On the home front, in my latest apperance on Dan Schneider's Video Interview, Dan and I discuss the history of Westerns on television. On Tommy Kovac's Splat from the Past, Tommy and I talk about Christmas memories on television. And at Eventually Supertrain, Dan and I are all about Garrison's Gorillas (plus more great stuff).

At The Horn Section, Hal returns with another episode of Love That Bob!, "Bob's Economy Wave," with Bob trying to juggle a strict household budget, a photography assignment, and a hot date. Note the operative word: trying. 

I don't know how many of you have snow on the ground right now, but if you'd like to get rid of it, Gill has just the movie for you at RealWeegieMidget: Hollywood Wives, the steamy 1985 miniseries based on the novel by Jackie Collins, with a who's who of big-haired seductive sirens.

The Broadcasting Archives shares the background of how Karl Freund helped develop the three-camera system for filming TV shows, along with a couple of pictures from the I Love Lucy set showing the system at work.

At Comfort TV, David notes something that I've commented on many times: how so many of the issues raised in shows of the 1960s and '70s are still issues today, and (perhaps more important) why television doesn't seem to try to offer answers to those issues anymore.

John takes a break from his series on character actress Ann Wray at Cult TV Blog in order to look at a pair of mysteries: "Death in Ecstasy" from the 1964 anthology series Detective, and Don't Open 'Till Christmas, a 1984 slasher movie that's short on quality but rich in atmosphere.

Jodie has an interesting guest post at Garroway at Large from voiceover artist Ross Bagley, who recalls his encounter with Dave, and the influence he had on Ross's career. A charming story, and it helps emphasize what an interesting, curious man Dave Garroway was.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence writes on the 70th anniversary of the movie White Christmas. Now, White Christmas is far from being my favorite Christmas movie; you may remember it was the target of my annual Christmas post last year. Still, I can't imagine a Christmas without watching it!

Did someone say Christmas? Martin Grams has the lowdown on the Yuletide episode of Steve Canyon, the series based on Milton Caniff's comic strip, with a script written by Ray Bradbury. How was it? Read, and find out.

And at The Hits Just Keep On Comin', JB takes a look at Christmas music that doesn't work for him. A bit unusual, I know, but we cover everything here, and there are certainly enough Christmas albums I could add to the list. 

Shadow & Substance reminds us that, with the New Year less than two weeks away, Syfy is doing it's annual Twilight Zone marathon again, and Paul has the complete schedule for December 31, January 1, and January 2. What a great way to start the year. TV  

The Christmas movies that never were

Thoughout the history of television, there have been many specials dedicated to the theme of Christmas. Some of them have become annual traditions, while others ran for a year or two, then disappeared into the ether of syndication, public domain, or YouTube. 

Lately, the Christmas movie field has been dominated by such producers as Hallmark, Lifetime, and Netflix. But I happen to have it on good authority that over the years, several projects, many involving big-name Hollywood directors and stars, have been pitched to these companies. For reasons that I can't explain, they were ultimately rejected, never to see the light of day—but not before some preliminary promotional material had been prepared. 

We've been fortunate here at It's About TV to have run across some of these promos. Whether or not they would have become beloved classics is for you to decide, but with our traditional Yuletide spirit in mind, we present them to you today for your consideration. Hopefully, thinking about them will help to make your holidays just a little brighter.

True, the didn't happen. But they could have. Couldn't they? TV  

What's on TV? Tuesday, December 17, 1963

An interesting observation on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday: the movie on WBZ at 1:00 a.m., Are Husbands Necessary? "The vice president of a bank has trouble because his spendthrift wife continually overdraws her accounts." Ray Milland stars as the bank VP, with Betty Field as the wife. It's listed in TV Guide as a drama, but Wikipedia describes it more as a screwball comedy, and my point is that, without knowing anything more about the movie, you can see it either way, with Milland equally believable as the exasperated husband of a wacky wife, or the scheming husband looking to rid himself of a shrew who's bleeding him dry. That you can see him playing either role, and playing it well, says much about his talent as an actor. It all comes from the Eastern New England edition.

This week in TV Guide: December 14, 1963

We all know how the minefield that is television is littered with the bodies of various flops, bombs, disasters, and other fiascos. Their tombstones are inscribed with various synonyms for failure: Turn-On. The Tammy Grimes Show. Flesh and Blood. Now it's time to add to that dubious pantheon one of the most infamous of them all: The Jerry Lewis Show. And it falls to Richard Gehman to write the obituary, even though the body, while moribund, is still breathing.

The Jerry Lewis Show was the result of a bidding war among all three networks, and came on the heels of some very well-received specials over the years, as well as a successful stint as guest host on The Tonight Show in that interim period between the departure of Jack Paar and the arrival of Johnny Carson. As befits the stature of one of the biggest stars in the business, The Jerry Lewis Show was big: two hours long, telecast live each Saturday, from the newly-renamed and refurbished Jerry Lewis Theater (at a cost of $1,000,000). ABC was spending, chairman Leonard Goldenson said, "more money than we own" on the show. And people were excited; "Everybody's rooting for Lewis," said Jack Elliott, music director for the Edie Adams show. "Everybody wants him to make it."

But now, only seven weeks into its run, the show is in Big Trouble, with a captial T that, if it doesn't rhyme with R, can best be summarized with the word ratings. It has fallen into third place for the night, trailing both NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies and CBS's venerable Western duo of Have Gun, Will Travel and Gunsmoke. The critics are using harsh words to describe the show's star: "egocentric" and "boor." ABC's president, Tom Moore, will only say that "We are committed to The Jerry Lewis Show for 40 weeks." The whispering in the industry is that "Jerry Lewis, LIVE from Hollywood, soon would be DEAD from Hollywood." And the question that everyone's asking: what happened?

According to Gehman, the problems are varied, but insiders point to one overriding conern: nobody really knew what Lewis wanted out of the show, what his vision was. It was as if he was completely detached from the project: unavailable for consultation with the network on guest stars, working on the script for his next movie instead of damage control on the show, opening for a week in Las Vegas in November. The problem, says Gehman, isn't confusion as much as it is a "complete lack of communication." 

Opening night didn't help. Lewis was nervous—"terribly nervous"—and things were only made worse when the huge screen above the stage stopped working, which meant most of the people in the theater couldn't see him. Cameramen lost communications with the control room. The red lights on the cameras went off, meaning nobody on stage knew which one to face. Commercials came and went without warning, or at the wrong time. Lewis, "a fearfully nervous persormer [whose] apparent ego masks a frightened and inescure little boy," hates surprises, and opening night was filled with them. He looked awkward, and the audience didn't understand some of his comments. Things went downhill from there. (You can see the opening to that show here.)

Gehman had been given unusual access to Lewis; the next year, he would write a biography of Lewis, That Kid, that, some said, caused Lewis to regret having given him that access. When it came to the show, however, Gehman found it difficult to get him to talk about things. He was more interested in talking metaphysically about God ("I think He sits up there in a big chair going har-har-har at all of us. I think He looks like Kriss Kringle. And I think He's makin' all of us do all this as a kind of audition.") and shrugs off press criticism ("The minute the critics are for me, I know I'm in trouble."). 

Which leaves it up to Gehman to analyze the failure, the first one that Lewis has had since a brief radio venture with Dean Martin that was almost immediately followed up by a successful turn into television. Lewis, Gehman says, is "a man whose deepest basic motivion—he once said to me—is fear." It may be, Gehman thinks, that "hurt and fear" have kept him detached. It may be that we was so cocky he didn't take into account how difficult two hours of live television each week could be, that he just had to "show up." It could be that, like his friend Frank Sinatra with his own ill-fated ABC series a few years ago, he had contempt for the television audience. All anyone knows is that when his press agent, Jack Keller, asked if there was anything he could do for Jerry, Lewis replied "Yeah—get me off this show."

It is, Gehman says in conclusion, as if Jerry Lewis was still auditioning, that, as he put it, God was going har-har-har while Lewis ran around frantically "and mainly running away." 

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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. 

I tried watching a couple of episodes of East Side/West Side a few years ago. Well, actually, I did watch a couple of episodes; I tried to like it, but I don't know that East Side/West Side is the kind of show that one actually likes, but the lack of a likeable character, combined with an excessive preachiness, meant I turned it off before it could turn me on. The fact that I tried it out, though, meant I fulfilled the obligation set out by Cleveland Amory in this week's review.

To be fair, Cleve had a few nits to pick as well, chief among them that East Side/West Side can be a little, well, humorless. The show is "a pretty depressing concept for evening 'entertainment' to begin with," perhaps "a bit seamier, it seems to us, than it has to be." A show like this doesn't have to have humor, but "more of a light touch would, if nothing else, help to illumine the dark spots." In crafting the role of welfare worker Neil Brock, played by George C. Scott, the producers "have failed to create a character with whom we can identify", and that goes as well for his two colleagues, played by Elizabeth Wilson and Cicely Tyson. There's also the fact that much of the dialog falls into the "unreal" department, which isn't the best thing for a series that promotes its realism.

All that said, Amory praises East Side/West Side as "undoubtedly the boldest, bravest and most original new series now on your screen this new season." CBS deserves credit for actually putting it on the air. And "you owe it to your conscience not only to see it but also to see that it stays on." At least I met Cleve halfway. 

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This week is a kind of limbo for Christmas programming—the quiet before the storm, as it were. We're in the time before the barage of animated Christmas specials that come early in the month (Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol premiered in 1962), and the variety shows and weekly sitcoms that air special Christmas episodes are just beginning to run theirs. (More of them will be on next week.)

With that said, two of the best-known and best-loved sitcom Christmas episodes air this week. On Tuesday, The Jack Benny Program (9:30 p.m., CBS) presents the famous 1960 episode "Jack Goes Christmas Shopping," featuring a performance by Mel Blanc that will crack you up, as it does Jack. On Wednesday, it's "The Alan Brady Show Presents," on The Dick Van Dyke Show (9:30 p.m., CBS), with Dick, Laura, Buddy, Sally, Mel, and Ritchie performing their hearts out. No Christmas viewing schedule is complete without either of these. And Saturday's Lawrence Welk Show (8:30 p.m., ABC) celebrates a holiday show with the Osmond Brothers.

Sunday's always a good time for holiday programs, and this Sunday is no exception, starting with CBS's religious program Look Up and Live (10:30 a.m.), which focuses on "Three Views of Christmas," including songs and spirituals appropriate to Advent. We continue at WNAC in Boston, with the second half of the noon double feature, Remember the Night, with Barbara Stanwick as a shoplifter remanded to the custody of the prosecuting attorney (Fred MacMurray) over the Christmas holiday. (Only in the movies, right?) That finishes in time for you to switch over to the Hallmark Hall of Fame's Christmas presentation, "A Cry of Angels" (4:00 p.m., NBC), the story of Handel and how he came to write "Messiah." Walter Slezak plays the troubled composer, who faces mounting debt, dwindling audience interest, and crippled pain in his hands, as well as the emnity of the Prince of Wales (Hurt Hatfield); Maureen O'Hara costars as Susanna Cibber, the singer who assisted in the efforts to get "Messiah" published. Lassie (7:00 p.m., CBS) presents the first of a two-part Christmas story, in which Timmy and Lassie bring home an elderly toy mender for Christmas. And over on ABC, The Ernie Ford Show (Monday-Friday, noon), Ernie sings at least one Christmas hymn each day.

Locally, WMUR in Manchester airs a charming little program Monday through Friday at 7:00 p.m. called Santa Claus, with the studio transformed into Santa's Workshop at the North Pole, and Santa (kids' show host "Uncle" Gus Bernier" reading letters from kids. You can see a clip from that here. On Thursday, WBZ offers a Boston Christmastime tradition, the play Black Nativity (7:30 p.m.), by American poet Langston Hughes, set to traditional Chrismas carols sung in gospel style; Hughes himself provides the narration. At 8:00 p.m. the same night, WGBH has Dylan Thomas's prose poem A Child's Christmas in Wales, recited by Thomas, against the backdrop of photographs of Thomas's homeland. If you have to choose, I'd choose Black Nativity simply on the grounds that WGBH will probably repeat A Child's Christmas sometime in the next couple of weeks.

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There's plenty more to look forward to this week. Saturday is the final day of the regular season in college football, with Alabama taking on Miami at the Orange Bowl (1:30 p.m. ET, NBC). If you're like me, you might have wondered that the regular season extended so deep into December, until you see the notation "Postponed from last week." The accordian effect of November 22 really does have a long reach, doesn't it? 

On Sunday afternoon, NBC Children's Theatre (3:00 p.m.) presents a kind of alternative to CBS's Young People's Concerts, as conductor Igor Buketoff and the NBC Orchestra demonstrate the range and variety of sounds made by a symphony orchestra. And who wouldn't want to see the conclusion of Pollyanna on Disney's Wonderful World of Color (7:30 p.m., NBC), with the delightful ◀ Hayley Mills, Jane Wyman, and Karl Malden. 

If you wake up early enough on Monday, you'll catch an interesting lineup on Today (7:00 a.m., NBC), with the focus on "second-generation actors" James Mitchum and Peter Fonda. One of them becomes a big star, one of them doesn't (but he's still more successful than I'd ever be). And if you can stay awake long enough, Sing Along with Mitch (10:00 p.m., NBC) has a tribute to World War II and the London Blitz, with Leslie Uggams, Bob McGrath, Deirdre Damon and Sandy Stewart joining in. 

The younger set should be excited by Mr. Novak (Tuesday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), with singer Frankie Avalon as special guest star. And we're in for an eclectic evening on The Bell Telephone Hour (10:00 p.m., NBC), with Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gormé, plus opera great Birgit Nilsson, pianist Lorin Hollander, and dancer Eleanor Powell. Talk about a variety show. 

Wednesday, CBS Reports (7:30 p.m.) features members of President Johnson's cabinet sharing their views on various issues facing the new president, less than one month into his administration. It must still have taken some getting used to seeing the phrase "President Johnson" in print. And on The Danny Kaye Show (10:00 p.m., CBS), the aforementioned Dick Van Dyke is Danny's special guest; among the skits, Dick plays a best man trying to talk Danny out of leaving his bride standing at the altar.

On Thursday, Lauren Bacall makes a rare television appearance in Dr. Kildare (8:30 p.m., NBC) as a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist faced with a serious illness. And on Kraft Suspense Theatre (10:00 p.m., NBC), Mickey Rooney stars in "The Hunt" as a sadistic sheriff who plays a variation of "The Most Dangerous Game" with his prisoners—first he lets them escape, then he tracks them down and kills them. The unfortunate prisoners are James Caan and Bruce Dern.

Friday gives us a case of what might be called "Dueling Serlings," starting with The Chrysler Theatre presentation of "It's Mental Work" (8:30 p.m., NBC), Rod Serling's adaptation of John O'Hara's short story, starring Lee J. Cobb, Harry Guardino, Gena Rowlands, and Archie Moore. After that, you can flip over to CBS for Serling's Twilight Zone story "Ninety Years Without Slumbering" (9:30 p.m.), starring Ed Wynn. When that's over, you've got a choice: The Jack Paar Program (10:00 p.m., NBC), with Jack's guest, BIshop Fulton J. Sheen; or the Fight of the Week (10:00 p.m., ABC), with welterweight champion Emile Griffith moving up a class to fight Rubin "Hurricane" Carter. Remember Carter's long and ultimately successful fight for justice back in the day? This was when he was simply known as a boxer.

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On the cover this week is a program that looks as if it should be one of Bing Crosby's star-studded Christmas specials, but in fact The Bing Crosby Show for Lever Brothers, starring Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bob Hope, Rosemary Clooney, Kathryn Crosby, and Peter Gennaro, isn't scheduled until February 15 of next year.* But these shows have to be shot sometime, and this one has just wrapped production.

*Bing had done Christmas variety specials on ABC in 1961 and 1962; in 1963, he narrated a program called The Promise, made by Father Patrick Peyton's Family Theatre Productions, which told of the events leading up to the birth of Christ. 

Deano welcomes Rosie to the set.     

One of the challenges in putting together an all-star show like this is getting everyone together at the same time, and as fate would have it, Hope is in and out before Sinatra and Martin have even arrived; Bob is suffering from an eye ailment, and left early for treatment. There's only a brief discussion as to whether or not to replace him with another star, and it's decided that they'll tape his segement at a later date and splice it in. Crosby explains to the audience that Hope picked up a slight cold, "and you know at his age, old Skinose has to take care of himself." 

The special represents "Kathy" Crosby's first television appearance with Bing (as well as her first singing appearance on television), and Crosby's pride in his young wife is evident, kissing her as she sits on his lap. Anyone who's ever watched Bing in action knows how smooth, how practiced and at ease, he always appears ("utterly nervless"), and even his wife is moved to comment on it; at one point, while he was out of earshot, she commented to Rosemary Clooney that "I had no idea he was such a pro. If I had known, I'd have married him sooner." 

Incidentelly, when Kathy Crosby was still Kathryn Grant, she appeared in a 1957 science fiction movie called The Night the World Exploded, and that's airing this Friday overnight at 1:00 a.m. on WBZ.

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MST3K alert: Lost Continent (1951) A rescue mission discovers a "Lost Continent." Cesar Romero, Hillary Brooke. (Sunday, 9:00 a.m., WGN) This brief description hardly does the movie justice, and editing it down to fit a one-hour Sunday morning timeslot doesn't help things. But without the interstitial MST3K features, you don't have a movie anyway: Crypto-dad Hugh Beaumont as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, rock climbing, and Cesar Romero—really, who could ask for anything more? TV  

Around the dial

Let's start across the pond this week, as John makes his way through the "Ann Way Season," comprising appearances by the British character actress. The latest comes from the great, absurd British series Ripping Yarns, and the episode "Whinfrey's Last Case."

Garry Berman links back to a review from last year on the series Pan Am, which ran for 14 episodes in 2012. It's a wonderful time capsule for an era that seemed to promise endless potential, and one in which taking a jet wasn't like running the gauntlet through a torture chamber.

At bare•bone e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project continues with "Final Arrangements" by Robert Arthur, part of the show's sixth season. It's something of a letdown, despite a fine cast led by Martin Balsam as the would-be wife killer.

One of the more interesting aspects of classic television is the way in which various trends in programming ebb and flow. At Travalanche, Trav looks at one such trend, that of shows using World War II as a backdrop for drama or comedy. Read more about these shows, and why they worked (or didn't).

Michael Cole died earlier this week, aged 84, and with that all three of those impossibly young cops of The Mod Squad are now dead, as well as their mentor, Tige Andrews. There was more to his career, of course, and Terence looks at some of them at A Shroud of Thoughts.

With Christmas just around the corner, it's a perfect time for Martin Grams to look at the "lost" Lone Ranger radio Christmas special of 1938. It was performed but not recorded for syndication, since it could have been aired at any time of the year. The solution? Read all about it.

Let's talk just a little more about Christmas, as JB does the Christmas Shuffle at The Hits Just Keep on Comin'. Has nothing to do with television (although you'll have heard some of these tunes on the tube), but who's going to complain about a little more Christmas cheer.

At Classic Film & TV Corner, Maddie reviews the 1968-70 series The Ghost & Mrs. Muir, based on the 1947 movie of the same name, with Hope Lange and Edward Mulhare essaying the roles originally played by Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison. It's a charming way to spend some time.

By the way, that great picture at the top comes from this article on 25 ideas to celebrate an old-fashioned Christmas. One of those ways: "Watch the Christmas TV Special From When You Were a Kid." That's what we'll be doing tonight, and I can't think of a better way to start the weekend.  TV  

A change of pace: the Red Skelton Christmas Show, 1968

I've said this before, and I'll say it again: if you don't try to understand the context in which a classic television program was originally shown, you're losing at least half of its meaning. It's like overcooking vegetables—when you do that, you lose the nutrients, and wind up with something that's soggy, limp, less than what it should have been. Case in point: the Red Skelton Christmas show of 1968.

The Red Skelton Hour aired at 8:30 p.m. Eastern time on Tuesday nights, and in 1968, Tuesday fell on Christmas Eve. It was, in fact, quite an evening if you happened to be watching television; at 9:30 p.m., Red was followed by the famous Apollo 8 broadcast, in which the three astronauts read the Creation story from the Book of Genesis as they orbited the moon. It had been a somber year, if anyone needed reminding: a year of war, assassinations, and riots, and this was reflected in the theme of that year's Christmas show. 

Red's annual Christmas shows were something of a departure from the format of his regular weekly episodes, and including a long set piece running for at least half the episode: "Freddie and the Yuletide Doll," in which Freddie the Freeloader dances with a rag doll (Cara Williams) who comes to life; "The Christmas Spirit," a full-length skit featuring Freddie and Greer Garson putting on a show to benefit orphans; "The Christmas Urchin," in which Freddie and a friendly beat officer (Howard Keel) help a young girl and her widowed mother; and so on. 

The 1968 edition was no exception; in fact, Red functions more as a special guest star on his own show, with the de facto hosting duties taken over by U.S. Senator Everett Dirksen, who had also appeared on Skelton's show the previous year. Dirksen, seated in a wingback chair on a set that included a fireplace and Christmas tree, introduced Red's Silent Spot (repeated from the previous year) and a performance by ballet dancer Jillana, and recited Clement Clark Moore's poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas," before providing the narration for the night's centerpiece: "A Christmas Story—1777." 

As Dirksen reflects on the warmth of Christmases spent with friends and loved ones, he reminds viewers that "there are those whose duties take them away from the glow of the hearth and set them down in strange places where Christmas is sadly just another day." Such a place is Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, the winter headquarters of General George Washington and his Continental Army. The weather is cold, bleak, and cruel, with little for the soldiers to eat or drink, and as many of them die from cold and starvation as from the bullets of British soldiers. What follows is their story, written by Red Skelton, "a story about some brave men whose sacrifices so many years ago enables us to enjoy this holiday tonight."

Skelton is "Patrick," one of the sentries standing guard; he mans his post, even though he knows that the real enemies—the cold, the hunger—are already inside the camp. In the last month, 2,500 men have died "without costing the British one bullet." Money for the war is going to the wrong people, who "get rich on our debts." His spirits are briefly lifted when he receives a Christmas gift from his loving wife: a warm muffler, knitted in blue so he won't be mistaken for a redcoat. Too often, though, the humor in the camp is cynical, the laughter that which is "born of sadness." 

One of the soldiers brings news from Philadelphia, where food is plentiful and people live as if this "wasn't their war." When Patrick asks if they know about the conditions under which the troops are living, he is told that they are, but "the war is not popular with everybody. . .There are young men on the streets who make speeches of protest." 

"If those agitators put self before freedon, before liberty," another soldier replies, "let them come on this battle line. Let both sides fire at them." 

Patrick wonders: "Why does a man who speaks as a traitor believe that the other side will trust him?"

"So it is our lot to do the fighting," the first soldier replies, "even for those who in their fight undermine us. Perhaps we who fight will appreciate liberty a little more." 

But what is liberty? Says Patrick, "Liberty is tomorrow."

Comes Christmas Eve, and Dirksen describes the scene: "The eyes of men half alive blur with tears. The night is bitter cold, but that isn't what makes men cry. Men make men cry. Leaders of men cry, too. The spirit of Liberty makes men cry. The real heroes are dead, but those who still live are learning to be heroes. But do they live, or are they ghosts of the dead?" There is no water to be had other than that in the frozen stream; Patrick becomes so desperate from thirst that when he sees another soldier holding a canteen to his lips, he offers to exchange the muffler his wife made for him in return for just a couple of sips, but the soldier shakes his head, and Patrick runs away in shame and despair. In fact, the canteen is empty, the soldier merely miming the act of drinking: his own thirst had driven him nearly mad.

Remembering that it is Christmas Eve, and determined that they should not forget the night, Patrick sneaks out of the tent and returns with a small evergreen to serve as a Christmas tree for the other soldiers, to remind them of what this night means. "You should see them. There's light in their eyes for the first time. He then lights a candle and attaches it to a branch. I feel rejoicing; my heart overflows with gratitude and hope." For them, the little tree "beholds His divine grace." One soldier, young enough that he should be "at a Christmas dance, not walking around barefooted through the ice and snow, leaving his blood to feed the spring flowers," gazes lovingly at the tree before dying. "At least he saw the tree of the Christ Child before he walked into the valley of death." Patrick take off his muffler and wraps it around the dead boy. Even though there is no church, no altar, the camp is still alive with the spirit of Christmas.

It's an inspiring ending to a somber, stark story, but it might leave some contemporary viewers nonplussed. For instance, we're not accustomed to seeing Skelton in a straight dramatic role, with only flashes of humor. And there's nothing particularly Christmassy about Valley Forge in 1777 other than the time of year. We might wonder—where's the holly and mistletoe? Where are the soldiers singing carols? We don't even have the satisfaction of Washington's dramatic crossing of the Delaware on Christmas, 1776. Instead, we see men enduring incredible hardships; even nature seems to be against them. We know that victory eventually comes to Washington and his army, but we wonder how many of these men will live to see it. It's certainly not the stuff that Hallmark movies are made of.

But that's probably not how it would have been taken back in 1968. Viewed through the prism of the time, it's impossible not to see "A Christmas Story—1777" as an allegory on the Vietnam War. Instead of the bitter cold of Valley Forge in 1777, substitute the heat and humidity of the Southeast Asia jungle in 1968. The colonials are betrayed not by the loyalists and apathetic of Philadelphia, but by "Hanoi Jane" and the others accused of providing aid and comfort to the Viet Cong. The one constant through it all is the American soldier fighting and dying, and wondering if anyone out there cares. 

Is "A Christmas Story—1777" an antiwar story? It presents war in all its horror, stripped of its glory and nobility, reducing it to a desperate quest for survival. And yet, despite everything, the men know why they are there and what they are fighting for; it is what keeps them there, through it all, so that even though some will desert, many of them keep coming back. It's no secret that both Dirksen and Skelton were strong supporters of Vietnam*, and some might think that makes them, in part, responsible for the suffering and death that followed. Does this negate the power of what we see here? I don't think so; it doesn't seek to deny the horrors of war, and whatever one might have thought of Vietnam, either then or now, they way they were treated by many Americans after the war remains shameful. 

*Three weeks later, on the January 14, 1969 show (just before Richard Nixon's inauguration), Skelton would do his well-known and dramatic rendition of "The Pledge of Allegiance." 

Seen in context, Red Skelton's 1968 Christmas show takes on a different dimension, one that's perhaps more dramatic, more meaningful, even (for some) more controversial. In the end, I don't think it matters whether or not you agree with the message; what is important is that knowing the context enriches both the program itself, and the way in which we experience it. It also proves, once again, that there's more to "mere television" than one might think. TV