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Before we get to the heart of things, an addendum to Wednesday's book reviews. In addition to posting them here, I've also shared them on Amazon, and I can't stress enough how important an Amazon review is for authors. Reviews affect the algorithms that determine which books shoppers see (the more, the better), they give a sense of legitimacy to a book, and positive reviews may encourage other readers to try these books out. Now, obviously, I'm not encouraging you to lie and leave a good review for a bad book, but speaking as someone with a book coming out next month, I urge you to take a couple of minutes and leave a review of it at Amazon or wherever you happen to have purchased it. Even negative reviews, written constructively, can be helpful to us, and of course, positive reviews can make all the difference. So please, when you've finished that book, let everyone know what you think of it. This concludes today's public service announcement.

Speaking of book reviews, Martin Grams has a quartet of them himself, with books on Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., movie star Deanna Durbin, Peter Marshall's memories of Hollywood Squares (a terrific book; I can vouch for it personally), and Peter Mark Richman's bio. Check them out.

At bare-bones e-zine, Jack's Hitchcock Project continues with "The Pearl Necklace," a sixth season teleplay by Peggy and Lou Shaw that tells a nasty tale of greed and deception; the luminous Hazel Court, the smarmy Jack Cassidy, and the manipulative Ernest Truax star.

When last we visited Cult TV Blog, John was taking us through a pair of episodes from the British series P.R.O.B.E, neither of which was the first episode. We get that this week, in "The Zero Imperative," with Whovians Sylvester McCoy, Peter Davison, Colin Baker, Jon Pertwee, Caroline John and Louise Jameson. And Linda Lusardi. Yes!

The always-valuable Broadcast Archives gives us a look at what prime time television was like in the late 1940s. Some of the footage in this video is not just rare, but drenched in the history of television, perhaps the only look we'll ever have at some of the shows from this era.

At The View from the Junkyard, Roger takes us on an A-Team revenge trip in the first season finale, "A Nice Place to Visit," a darker and more serious episode than usual. Will the Team be able to even the score with the small-town rednecks who killed their old war buddy? What do you think?

Kenneth Washington, the last surviving regular on Hogan's Heroes (he played Baker in the show's final season) died this week, age 87. He never got the credit he deserved for the impossible task of replacing Ivan Dixon in the cast; Pop Culture has the story.

At Classic Film and TV Corner, Maddie reviews five significant movies from one of my favorite eras in movie history, the British New Wave, popularly known as "kitchen sink drama." I have to be in a certain mood to watch them, but when I am, there's nothing better out there. TV  

Four for reading

We're talking books this week, and for a change it's not my book we're talking about. Rather, I've got a pile "to be reviewed" books that have piled up while I've been typing away, and now, with the release of Darkness in Primetime less than a month away, it's time to catch up on a few of these.

First up is my friend Dan Budnick's wonderful new Doctor Who book, When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who. This two-volume set (volume one covers what we might call "classic" Who, while volume two picks up the show after the revival) covers the entire run of the show, up to and including the episodes that aired earlier this year, so when I say nothing is missing in them, I mean it.

When I Say Read, Read: One Fella's Journey Through Doctor Who (Volumes 1 and 2)

by Daniel R. Budnick

Throckmorton Press

2025

One of the many features of these books that makes them stand out from other "episode guides" is that Dan's analysis is not limited to a three-or-four paragraph description of the whole story; instead, he literally takes things episode by episode, and if you're at all familiar with the way classic Who was structured, you'll know that each story generally consisted of somewhere between four and six episodes (with some of them lasting even longer than that). This means that instead of, say, three-quarters of a page per story, you're getting a writeup that runs four pages or more, and includes not just a description of the episode, but also the original date of broadcast, writing credits, and the cliffhanger ending. He's going to tell you what the story is, not just what it's about, and an ideal way to read is after you've viewed the episode, rather than before. In other words, it augments your viewing pleasure.

As I mentioned, there's a temptation to refer to these kinds of books as "episode guides," but in this case, this would be a disservice. What Dan's really done here is to compose a mini-essay on each episode, containing his personal opinions, observations, and asides to the reader. You'll get factoids that you might not have been aware of; you'll also find yourself looking at some episodes in a different light.

Through it all, Dan's longtime love of the series emerges. He doesn't whitewash things; if something is worth picking on, he'll pick on it—but affectionately. Nowadays, it's become so fashionable for books about television shows to fall into one of two categories: either a fawning, sycophantic tomb that reads more like a press release than anything else; or else a cynical reiterpretation of a well-loved show that aims to upend everything anyone had ever thought of it, withe the ultimate message that you were a fool to ever enjoy this series in the first place. Thankfully, this book is neither: it's for fans, by a fan, who wants to share his enjoyment with everyone else. If some history books come across as lectures, this one is more like sitting around in the living room with a good friend and yakking about what you've just seen. Believe me, those are the best kinds of conversations to have, and When I Say Read, Read, is the best kind of book to give it to you.

Full disclosure: Dan and I share the same publisher, Throckmorton Press. I can assure you that I have, in no way, been compensated or influenced by that.

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Next up are a pair of reissues that showed up as a pleasant surprise in the mail from Cutting Edge, and each takes us behind the scenes to see how the television industry actually operates. I doubt that many people are naive enough to think that the business is all sweetness and light, but Daniel Paisner and Vance Muse bring home the drama behind the scenes, in stories that are, arguably, more entertaining than the programs themselves.

Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilot

by Daniel Paisner (with an introduction by Phoef Sutton) 

Cutting Edge

2023

We'll begin with Paisner's Show: The Making and Unmaking of a Network Television Pilot. The pilot in question was called Word of Mouth, and if it doesn't ring any bells, that's because it never even made it to air, let alone series status. That it didn't is a story of industry politics, commercial constraints, timing, and above all, luck. 

Word of Mouth, which started out as E.O.B. (for "Executive Office Building," the building where the speechwriters are housed), then The War Room, before lighting on its final title, had a lot going for it. It was created by Bruce Paltrow, Tom Fontana, and John Tinker, who had just come off of the success that was St. Elsewhere. And, given that most workplace dramas center around office politics in the first place, what could be better than the ultimate political setting of speechwriters working for the president of the United States? It was a concept that promised, in one observer's words, "smart drama." Instead, it left those involved with it experiencing the same kind of "smarts" that one gets from, say, dropping a sledgehammer on a bare foot.

Providing us with his first-hand witness to the events is Paisner, a freelance writer who'd somehow convinced Paltrow, et. al to grant him "unprecedented access" to the process of making a television pilot. And Paltrow gives us the eyewitness view of the entire sordid affair: the painstaking process of script development, the myriad challenges posed in the production stage (just how far apart should those desks in the War Room be placed, anyway?), interference from network suits, and the harsh truth of how few pilots actually make it to the small screen, let alone series status. I often joke about those "failed pilot playhouse" anthologies that used to populate summertime television in the 1960s and 1970s, but in fact it says much for those projects that they even got to that point. Show gives us the whole, unvarnished truth, in glorious, painful, detail. 

Perhaps nothing speaks to the deadly accuracy of Paisner's book more than the reaction of Bruce Paltrow after reading the finished manuscript. "What the hell were we thinking," Paltrow grumbled, "letting you in like this?" When Paisner asked him what he'd gotten wrong, Paltrow ruefully replied, "Nothing. Not a single thing. It's just, you've made us look like complete fucking idiots." 

But that was not Paisner's intent, nor is that the impression the reader gets from Show. (Well, maybe just a little, but you know what I mean.) Remember that the greatest baseball hall of famers still failed seven out of every ten times they came to the plate, and the success ratio has to be at least that severe in the television business. For even the greatest television minds, failure is not only an option, it's a reality. Sometimes it's a line of dialogue, sometimes an episode, sometimes an entire concept. Had Paltrow, Fontana, and Tinker been lesser figures in the industry, they might not even have gotten this far. That they did is, ultimately, a success; after all, if you can't play the game, you'll never even get to bat.

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Vance Muse's Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Series, like Show, telegraphs its ending from its subtitle. It, too, seemed to be a good bet, created by Jay Tarsus, who'd already done The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd, Buffalo Bill, and The Bob Newhart Show/ Unlike Word of Mouth, Smoldering Lust—which wound up being called Black Tie Affair—actually made it to NBC's schedule, premiering on May 29, 1993, and starring Bradley Whitford and Kate Capshaw. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there: scheduled for thirteen episodes, only five were aired before the axe fell.

Smoldering Lust: The Inside Story of a Doomed Television Series

by Vance Muse (with an afterword by Ken Levine)

Cutting Edge

2024

The show's premise, for those of you who don't remember it (and, judging by its short run, that would be most of you) was a 1940s detective spoof set in San Francisco involving Whitford's character, Dave Brodsky, as a P.I. investigating a philandering tycoon. Now, how a viewer is supposed to glean that premise from the title Black Tie Affair may be one of the first indications that this show was in trouble, but it was far from the only one. Its initial test screening would have made a fine after-dinner show on the last night of the Titanic; the premiere episode was heavily delayed, and its abrupt death—make it compelling, if sometimes painful and occasionally hilarious, reading.

Muse's tone is engaging, clear, and witty. Readers get to meet all the different personalities involved in putting together a television series—what they do, how they interact, how important each of them is to the overall success of a series. And their job isn't an easy one, especially when the life of a series is very much up in the air. Does the writer stick it out with the show, committed to seeing it through to the end? Or, as his agent fervently hopes, does he put himself back out on the market, realizing that if he doesn't look after himself, nobody else will, either?

Once again, the overall impression is one of politics, network interference, enormous egos, and good intentions going awry. You're apt to wonder how anything ever makes it to television, which makes one admire the long-term hits even more, but we ought to save some applause for the ones that fall short as well, for it's a small miracle that they got even that far. Just because said series fails to become an established hit does not mean that these people aren't good at what they do, or that they haven't done it well in this case. Sometimes things just don't work out; what seemed like a good idea in concept may not have worked in delivery, or it may have been the right idea at the wrong time. What undoubtedly was the right idea at the right time, however, was that the stories behind these shows be preserved for the rest of us to read. Sometimes, in television as in real life, failure makes for the most interesting story of all.

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And now for something completely different. If you're like me (and, once again, I hasten to add that I hope you aren't, for your own good), you probably know Edward Everett Horton primarily as the droll narrator of the "Fractured Fairy Tales" that appeared as one of the features on the various Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. You might also remember him as Chief Roaring Chicken on F Troop. You might even have seen him, playing characters of similar temperament, in various musicals and other movies of the 1930s and 1940s, many of them bearing legendary titles such as Top Hat, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, and Arsenic and Old Lace. But when it comes down to brass tacks, how much do any of us know about the man? And how do we know whether or not his story will be interesting?

The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Horton

by Lon and Debra Davis 

Bear Manor Media

2025

I can't answer the first question, but as to the second, we have nothing to fear when we're in the hands of veteran authors Lon and Debra Davis, who, in The Unfractured Fairy Tale Life of Edward Everett Horton, bring their amazing knowledge of cinema to this biography. And, typical of the work they've done in the past, you're going to come away not only entertained, but educated, with a mini-history lesson on film that puts Horton's work in context, allowing us to appreciate what a truly talented actor he was. 

Horton's career spanned not only movies, but the stage, radio, and ultimately television, and each step enabled him to be appreciated by a wider, more varied audience. He worked with some of the best, most talented, professionals in the business, actors who thrived under Horton's deft supporting touch. We hear from many of them, thanks to the Davises research, as well as from Horton himself, through various interviews and writings that give his story in his own voice. We also learn more about Horton the man, in personal details that are presented with deftness and subtlety, always enhancing, rather than distracting us, from the story.

As was the case with Mr. Budnick above, the Davises are personal friends, but I think I can say that this does not color my appraisal of their books. The fact is that, with so many books about media studies out there, it can be difficult to know where to begin. One way in which that is accomplished is to look back at the track record of those authors who've made the rounds before, who've earned their stripes, so to speak, by demonstrating their expertise in their subject matter. I don't know anyone who knows more about early cinematic history than Lon and Debra Davis, and I'm not sure how many historians there are out there who can share their knowledge in as engaging and informative way—not to mention charming—as they do. 

It's unfortunate that it's taken me as long as it has to review these four books, because for those of you who look for reading recommendations, it may have delayed your enjoyment of them. You may not have known that you needed a book on Edward Everett Horton, that you needed to read stories of failed television ventures, that you needed such a detailed review of Doctor Who. You may not have realized that you not only needed them, you'll come away from having read them wondering how you were able to go for so long without knowing about them. But trust me, it's true in every case. TV  

What's on TV? Saturday, July 16, 1966

I've probably mentioned this before (when has that ever stopped me, though?), but it's quite remarkable to see how the United States has changed from an agricultural-based economy to one that is largely urbanized and service-based, all in the course of my lifetime. Now I know I'm old, but still, look at the number of programs this morning that are ag-based: Agriculture U.S.A., White Collar Farmer, Voice of Agriculture, Focus on Farming, plus a couple of agriculture films. And then there are the Western series, Western movies, and programs that aim for the rural demographic. This isn't that uncommon in issues from around the country, but you see it particularly in Northern California, where this week's issue is based. Another time capsule moment?

This week in TV Guide: July 16, 1966

You might think that being the captain of the most sophisticated nuclear submarine the world has ever seen, with the opportunity to travel the world on scientific missions, encountering strange underwater life and outer space aliens, would be enough for most men. But not for David Hedison. The co-star of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (along with Richard Basehart and the Seaview itself) still struggles with being, in his words, "one of the nameless heroes of television." From being mistaken for John Derek to having his name mispronounced, it's part of the terrain for a man who can only say, "I wish I had an image." 

Part of it, as I suggested, is that he often has third billing next to Basehart and the submarine. And, in fact, the whole premise of Voyage requires something of a suspension of disbelief. "If you can make this believable," he says, "you have really accomplished something." He points to a quote from Basehart that "'Richard III' was easier than this because the lines were there." to show that he appreciates the real accomplishment when an actor can "take nothing and make something of it." At the same time, though, there's only so far you can take it. A co-worker, complimenting him, points out that "He doesn't take himself seriously. He knows it's just a comic strip." And Hedison himself envies an actor like The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s Robert Vaughn, who "can go so many places and be with women and wear a tuxedo."

Still, there's no doubting that Hedison has come a long way from the times when he would sell his blood at $5 a pint to pay for acting lessons from Uta Hagen. His talent was recognized at an early date by both Hagen and Fredric March; Hagen said of him that "He had a wild temperament, a tremendous eagerness to make good in the theater. He had great promise." He won a 1956 Theatre World Award for his performance in the off-Broadway play "A Month in the Country," the only actor from an off-Broadway production to win. He was signed by 20th Century-Fox to appear in The Enemy Below, a submarine movie.* But since then, his primary claim to pre-Voyage fame came from his starring role in the now-cult classic movie The Fly, when he was known as Al Hedison. 

*Interestingly, the article doesn't mention that Hedison was originally offered the role of Captain Crane in Irwin Allen's original big-screen version of Voyage, but turned it down; Robert Sterling wound up playing the captain. Hedison would also turn down the role of Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch, a move I susped he didn't regret.

For all his doubts about Voyage, he understands the nature of the television business. "When Voyage first started I was apprehensive and didn’t like to talk about it. But then I watched the other shows on television, and I decided ours was nothing to be ashamed of." It's difficult, though, to not look back at his original hopes in the business. Hagen, for one, was sorry to see him go to Hollywood. "Young people see a chance to make some money; and then, without even realizing it, they get trapped. The last time I saw him, when he was visiting New York, he seemed sad. The fire had gone." And Hedison, who spent the Voyage hiatus in London attending the serious plays he still wants to do, followed by a stint in "The Teahouse of the August Moon" near Los Angeles. And then there's the role that still awaits him, that of Felix Leiter in a pair of James Bond movies; but that's another story.

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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: Guests include Ed’s guests are Dinah Shore; comics Jackie Vernon and Dick Capri; Sgt. Barry Sadler; the rock ‘n’ rolling Four Tops; puppet Topo Gigio; guitarist José Feliciano; Les Feux Follets, Canadian folk dancers; and Markworth and Mayana, bow-and-arrow act. Rock ‘n’ rollers Simon and Garfunkel are seen performing in a recently taped segment. (The show originally aired on January 30; the Simon & Garfunkel segment was taped and added to this broadcast.)

Palace: Hostess Kate Smith introduces singer-dancer Juliet Prowse; singer-composer Charles Aznavour; Avery Schreiber and Jack Burns, who offer a comedy sketch about a talking vending machine; Charlie Cairoli and Company in a slapstick routine about a bakery; the Eight Rodos, German tumblers; comic Albert T. Berry; and illusionist Prasano Rao.

It almost seems un-American to go against Kate Smith this week, particularly with Chrlees Aznavour at her side, but let's face it: Dinah Shore, José Feliciano, the Four Tops, and Simon and Garfunkel. So nothing can be finah than Dinah, which gives Sullivan the victory this week.

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From 1963 to 1976, TV Guide's weekly reviews were written by the witty and acerbic Cleveland Amory. Whenever they appear, we'll look at Cleve's latest take on the shows of the era. 

We come to you under somewhat false pretenses this week, as Judith Crist subs for Our Man Cleve, who's on vacation for the summer. And we couldn't have a better show for her to lead off with than the "Outstanding Dramatic Series of 1965," The Fugitive. As the series prepares to enter its fourth and final season (and first in color), Crist steps back to look at just what it is that has made the adventures of Dr. Richard Kimble such compelling viewing, week after week.

After all, the basic framework, which features the good doctor escaping from the clutches not only of the police, but any number of onlookers wishing Kimble ill, "is enough to try the patience of the most gullible among us." For even though it's a given that "the various arms of the law Kimble almost inevitably encounters in each episode are going to be too stupid to recognize him or, if he is recognized, too inept or kindhearted to capture him in the midst of the good deeds he is almost inevitably involved in, we still want to have the empathic thrill of skirting danger and facing doom along with our hero." And besides, common sense tells us that he can't be captured until 1) the series goes off the air, or 2) it changes its title. So what is it that keeps America tuning in to watch its favorite fugitive from justice elude the forces of law and order?

First and foremost is the performance of David Janssen, who plays Kimble "as one of the least monotonous of the secret-sorrow, dogooding, compassionate humanists  to have come our way; he’s remarkably durable on the eyes, interesting in the performance." There's also a freshness in the show's approach, in the "scene, plot and characters that the hero's rootlessness, an able assortment of scriptwriters and directors, and an astute producer provide." In the last three weeks alone, we've seen Kimble match wits with William Shatner (an unequal contest, to say the least) at an exclusive boys' club, Mickey Rooney in a self-serve laundry, and Melvyn Douglas as a neurophysicist. Oh, and did we mention Barry Morse as Lieutenant Gerard. Coincidences may abound, plots may be padded, and storylines may get tangled in overcomplexity, but the secret is in "letting the illogic of the format go by and riding with its presumptions." It is, Crist concludes, "a secret most of us have stumbled on."

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When you've been doing this gig for fifteen years, you look for different angles to approach the highlights of the week. That's especially true during the summer, when, to be honest, it's hard to find anything fresh to talk about. One thing we've noted many times in the past is how, in these pre-VCR days, reruns were the only way to catch up with the shows you'd missed, for one reason or another, earlier in the season. So this week, we'll concentrate on some of those episodes you'll want to see with that second chance. 

Saturday is one of those nights where it seems as if everyone's going to pick their channel and stick with it: ABC with The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet at 7:30 p.m., The Donna Reed Show at 8:00, Lawrence Welk at 8:30, and The Hollywood Palace at 9:30. Over on NBC, you've got Flipper, I Dream of Jeannie, Get Smart, and Saturday Night at the Movies. CBS is the odd man out, at least for part of the evening; at 7:30 it's Continental Showcase, the summer replacement for The Jackie Gleason Show; this week, Jim Backus hosts, with the Swingle Singers leading a group of international acts; Secret Agent at 8:30, with Drake working at a pirate radio station to track down a spy; and The Face is Familiar, with Jack Whittaker hosting celebrity guests Pearl Bailey, Allen and Rossi, and Mel Brooks. Ordinarily the night would be capped with Gunsmoke at 10:00, but this week it's preempted by the Miss Universe Pageant.

It's no surprise that Branded only survived for two seasons, considering the series on at the same time: The FBI on ABC, and The Ed Sullivan Show on CBS. Nonetheless, this Sunday gives us the second of a two-part story in which our hero (Chuck Connors) finds himself in the middle of a war between landowners and gypsies. (8:30 p.m., NBC) You've also got a choice to make at 10:00 p.m.; if you've started watching the ABC Sunday Night Movie at 9:00, you're going to pass up CBS's Candid Camera and NBC's The Wackiest Ship in the Army, which heads for the island of Kanapura, and a group of Australian girls who've been spying on Japanese shipping.

The John Forsythe Show (Monday 8:00 p.m., NBC) didn't fare very well as a successor to Forsythe's successful Bachelor Father, but with competition from 12 O'clock High on ABC and I've Got a Secret on CBS, it was probably an uphill struggle even if the show had been better. Tonight, John has to go toe-to-toe in the ring with Moose Grabowski, the academy's new football coach. I'm afraid he doesn't have his angels to help him out, either. Meantime, you may have missed Art Linkletter's Talent Scouts (10:00 p.m., CBS) while you were trying to decide between The Big Valley and Run for Your Life (although The Big Valley started the season on Wedneday), but tonight you can catch a rerun that features Jim Nabors, Jill St. John, and Ray Walston. Unfortunately, they aren't performing; they're just introducing their talent prospects, one of whom is comedian Alan Sues. 

If you're a fan of Daktari on Tuesday nights, you might have missed this tense episode of Combat! in which a lone German sniper takes aim at Saunders' men (7:30 p.m., ABC). They'd wiped out the German squad earlier, and now the survivor plans to pick them off one by one, saving Saunders for last. Since Combat! returns for a final season this fall, it's safe to assume he won't succeed. You also would have missed a double-bill of sitcoms on NBC; first, on My Mother the Car (7:30 p.m.), "Dave is given one last chance to sell the Porter—before Captain Manzini (Avery Schreiber) shrinks the antique auto to the size of a toy." That's followed at 8:00 by Please Don't Eat the Daisies, as a leaky room convinces the family it's time to sell their old home before it becomes a money pit.

Two of the season's big ratings winners come on Wednesday, where Batman (7:30 p.m., ABC) and The Beverly Hillbillies (8:30 p.m., CBS) both finish in the top ten. As an alternative, we've got a Lost in Space episode that features both space werewolves and hillbilly space farmers. (7:30 p.m., CBS) How could you ask for anything more? Meanwhile, ABC's World War II half-hour spy drama Blue Light (8:30 p.m.), which got smashed by Hillbillies in the ratings, stars Robert Goulet as an American double agent who, tonight, is threatened with exposure unless he agrees to become a triple agent by working for the Soviets. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire.

You definitely could use a VCR on Thursday: with Daniel Boone on NBC and part two of the Batman adventure on ABC, how are you going to make room for The Munsters on CBS? (7:30 p.m.) Tonight, the family's pet dragon, Spot, runs away after Herman disciplines him, and heads for the sewers. On the other hand, if you did watch The Munsters, you might have stayed for Gilligan's Island (tonight, featuring the Wellingtons, who sing the show's theme, playing a hit rock group looking to escape from their fans), which means you'll miss Gidget (8:00 p.m., ABC), where Gidget goes for a ride with a friend without telling her father first. Whoops!

Then again, there are some shows that just never had a chance; with The Wild, Wild West and The Flintstones as the opposition, even the rerun season (and Nina Wayne) couldn't save Camp Runamuck (Friday, 7:30 p.m., NBC), with features Arch Johnson's Wivenhoe announcing his plan for a successful diet. Honey West (9:00 p.m.), probably didn't have a prayer against Gomer Pyle, USMC, despite Anne Francis doing double duty tonight, playing both Honey and her lookalike, the notorious thief Pandora Fox. And with The Man From U.N.C.L.E. riding high, the rerun season might have been the only time you'd have watched the British import Court-Martial, starring Bradford Dillman and Peter Graves. (10:00 p.m. ABC) Tonight, an MP goes on trial for killing a German concentration-camp commandant. Breathe easy, though: it's not Colonel Klink.

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We do get some specials along with the reruns this week, and they're doubly special because we can actually watch some of them. 

This week's programming may be preempted or delayed by the launch of Gemini X, which took off, as scheduled, on Monday afternoon for a four-day mission, and I suppose some people might be blasé enough about the space program to look at it as a rerun. On board were astronauts John Young and Mike Collins; Collins, who became the first astronaut to perform two spacewalks, will later be a part of the famed Apollo 11 crew, where, as the sole member of the crew to remain in the capsule during the moon landing, he will be farther away from any other human than anyonce since Creation. Young, for his part, will later walk on the moon, and still later will pilot the first flight of the Space Shuttle. Gemini X splashes down safely on Thursday; the networks will provide complete coverage. Speaking of which, here is NBC's coverage of the launch, with Frank McGee.

I mentioned Miss Universe earlier; Margareta Arvidsson of Sweden is crowned Miss Universe 1966 in the pageant, held in Miami Beach. Pat Boone and June Lockhart are the hosts on the stage, while Jack Linkletter does the honors on the television broadcast, which exists in its entirety on YouTube.

On Tuesday, CBS presents an acclaimed portrait of composer Igor Stravinsky, "considered by many to be the world's greatest living composer," originally shown in May. (10:00 p.m.) The network is probably hoping more people see it this week than did in its original run two months ago. Charles Kuralt is the narrator; you can see a clip from it here.

NBC counters with an original news special on Wednesday, as Moscow bureau chief Kenneth Bernstein narrates an hour-long look at "Siberia: A Day in Irkutsk." It's not the Siberia you think of when you hear of dissidents being exiled there; Irkutsk, a city of nearly a half-million, is not only the cultural center of Siberia, it also has the Trans-Siberian Railroad, not to be confused with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, which may or may not have anything to do with Irkutsk, or anything else for that matter. No freebee, but you might be able to watch it if you subscribe to Peacock+.

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Well, we haven't had a fashion spread here for awhile, and we could go for something that's chic and sleek and modern, and who better to display such wares than Janice Rule, the wife of Ben Gazzara and a pretty fair actress in her own right, in both television and on the big screen.

Here she is modeling the latest from the summer collection of Dynasty of Hong Kong, with a decidedly Oriental accent. Wonder if she wore anything like this while Ben was filming The Killing of a Chinese Bookie? Yes, I know that was made ten years after this, but it's still a good thought.

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MST3K alert: Earth vs. the Spider (1958) Teen-agers in a small community are threatened by a giant spider. Ed Kemmer, June Kenney. (Sunday, 3:00 p.m., KSBW in Salinas) The description is accurate as far as it goes, although the spider isn't selective; it's threatening the whole town, not just the teens. But the real highlight is that June Kenney and Eugene Persson, who play the two teens trapped in the spider's lair, also play teens in episode 607, Bloodlust!, which stars a pre-Defenders Robert Reed. What do you think of that? TV  

Around the dial

I've been reading about the Titanic lately, specifically On a Sea of Glass, the terrific book by Tad Fitch, Kent Layton, and Bill Wormstedt; I'm looking at it right now, in fact, so it's no surprise that we start this week at Realweegiemidget, where Gill is reviewing the 1979 telemovie S.O.S. Titanic, a decent retelling that stars David Janssen as John Jacob Astor, David Warner as Lawrence Beesley, Ian Holm as J. Bruce Ismay, and other stars of the era. If I'd had more time, I might have jumped into this blogathon, but I've had my hands full lately.

I'm also a classic Doctor Who fan, of course, and so you might know I'd be a fan of John's latest post at Cult TV Blog, a look at P.R.O.B.E., the first spin-off from Who, a television show that wasn't really a show but went directly to VHS and then to DVD without passing either go or a TV broadcast. Check it out!

At Comfort TV, David takes the occasion of a recent event in Somerset, Kentucky involving the Dukes of Hazzard General Lee jumping over a fountain as the jumping-off place (see what I did there?) for a look at other classic TV cases of life imitating art. It's nice to remember that we do have fun in this hobby.

Speaking of fun, I was never the biggest fan of The Mike Douglas Show back in the day, but today's talk shows manage to make Mike look like one of the giants of all time. Anyway, the Broadcast Archives looks back at The Mike Douglas Cookbook, featuring recipes from guests who appeared on the show. Fun, and delicious, I'm sure.

And news that's not only great and fun, but great fun: our friend Jodie at Garroway at Large is now the new proprietor of a truly great website, the Monitor Tribute site, dedicated to preserving the legacy of the legendary radio program. I wrote about Dennis Hart's terrific book on Montor several years ago, and I'm so pleased that he's decided to hand the site over to someone who truly cares about it.

At A View from the Junkyard, Roger is back in the world of The A-Team, and this week's episode is "The Beast from the Belly of a Boeing," in which we continue to explore the question of whether or not Murdoch is really mad. Great fun, if you ignore the question Roger poses about pressure equalization in a plane where someone's shot a hole in the side.

From the end of last week, at The Lucky Strike Papers, Andrew celebrates the 75th anniversary of the television debut of Your Hit Parade: July 10, 1950. The show predated this debut, of course; it started on radio in 1935, and continued on television until 1959.

And we've got another appearance from yours truly on Dan's Eventually Supertrain podcast, with another delightful episode of Garrison's Gorillas, plus Bronk and Ghosted. If you're not sated after that, I'm afraid I can't offer you anything more. TV  

Darkness in Primetime now available for preorder

It occurs to me, looking at the blog, that I'm just not promoting Darkness in Primetime enough. (I don't know what it is; just a feeling, I guess.) But of course one has to take advantage of every opportunity there is, especially when you're an indie author with a limited marketing budget. (I suppose I could start a tip jar, and maybe someday I will, but as an author I remain committed to offering my content here for free. As a publisher, I think the author is an idiot for doing that, but in this case the author wins.)

At any rate, Darkness in Primetime: How Classic-Era TV Foresaw Modern Society's Descent into Hell is now available for pre-order in both paperback and eBook formats. The official publication date is August 12, but if you order now, you can take advantage of a limited-time launch pricing special through August 19.

Get the paperback for just $24.95 (regularly $29.95) or the eBook for only $7.99 (regularly $9.99). 

Interested? Why wait? Grab your copy now while the discount lasts!

For all the details and to place your order, visit this link.

If you haven't made up your mind yet, here are a couple of videos that might help you along, beginning with this two-minute trailer:

You'll also be interested in this interview I did last week with the great Chance Bartels at The Nostalgia Podblast. I've set the video to begin around the eight-minute mark and my appearance, but feel free to go back to the beginning and some cool video preliminaries:

And while you're at it, it doesn't hurt to check out my other books as well. I'd appreciate it! TV  

What's on TV: Thursday, July 16, 1959

You might notice that the image above includes channel bullets for stations I haven't listed below, such as channels 27 and 43. Now, that's not because I'm holding back on you; you should know better than that by now, dear readers. No, it's that the Philadelphia edition carries network listings only for the four additional stations in Harrisburg, Lebanon, and York, Pennsylvania. Given that we already know what those network programs are, it would seem somewhat redundant to include them, wouldn't it? So don't worry; you aren't missing a thing!

This week in TV Guide: July 11, 1959

There are different ways to describe women, and to prioritize one is not to deny the others: beautiful, attractive, alluring, cute. There is no wrong answer; all of them are good. The way to describe that picture of Lola Albright below is cute. As I said, no wrong answer.

Lola Albright is the costar of Peter Gunn, playing Edie Hart to Craig Stevens' Pete, and she says she appreciates the chance to play "a real woman." I've written before about Peter Gunn, one of television's "jazz detectives" of the late '50s and early '60s, and one of the points I try to emphasize is that the relationship between Pete and Edie is one between two adults, something you don't see too often anymore in a world populated by thirtysomething adolescent snowflakes. But what does that actually mean? I don't think I could describe it any better than she does:

Well, without taking away from her humanness, her first consideration is her man. Edie is not a paragon - far from it. I don't suppose you'd find her teaching Sunday school.

Are Edie and Pete in love. Well, sure. Presumably they'll marry one day—but not on the program, obviously. Meantime their relationship is—well, adult. Edie is too smart not to know better than to try to tie Pete down. It would be the surest way for her to lose him.

Then, too, his work brings him in contact with other women, many of them extremely attractive. Her sense of humor carries her through this situation, and she is able to deal with it. That's a good womanly trait. Edie also is on hand to show another facet of Pete—his sentimental side. And his steadfast side, because no matter what might happen, he always returns to her.

That's Edie for you. I wish I knew myself as well as I know her. I might add that I think the realism of this relationship is one of the things that keeps the show on top.

From your lips to today's network executives' ears, Lola. If only they knew what that kind of a mature relationship adds to a story—but then, are the viewers mature enough to appreciate it?

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As the summer doldrums continue, we'll go straight to the week's highlights, starting with the "ripped from today's headlines" category: Saturday's episode of the very fine police drama Brenner, starring Edward Binns and James Broderick as father and son policemen (9:00 p.m., CBS), features a story about a patrolman whose gun kills a young lawbreaker. "After it is discovered that the youth was unarmed, the newspapers launch a tirade against police brutality." (At least the police don't have CNN to contend with.) An hour later on Gunsmoke (10:00 p.m., CBS), Matt hunts down a man who tried to kill him; among the guest stars are Harry Townes, who may well have appeared on every TV series ever shown, and Paul Newlan, who was Lee Marvin's boss on M Squad and always seemed to be waiting for him at the crime scene.

Carol Channing, the Dukes of Dixieland, and Wayne and Shuster headline The Ed Sullivan Show (Sunday, 8:00 p.m., CBS), while Janet Blair and John Raitt host the summer replacement for Dinah Shore on NBC at 9:00 p.m.; among their guests is the young Joel Grey. If variety's not your cup of tea, Ronald Reagan and Carol Lynley star in an intriguing G.E. Theater on CBS; Reagan plays a newspaper reporter who runs across the site of a car crash involving a famed Hungarian scientist, while Lynley is a hitchhiker who blames the scientist for the accident.

Monday night features the two stars on this week's cover, Craig Stevens and Lola Albright, in Peter Gunn (9:00 p.m., NBC). Tonight, Edie asks Pete to help a close friend of hers, singer Lynn Martel, who fears someone is trying to kill her. At 10:00 p.m. on CBS, Desilu Playhouse presents "The Killer Instinct," with Rory Calhoun as a former boxer who becomes manager of a promising young fighter. And The Arthur Murray Party (NBC, 10:00 p.m.) features a dance contest, natch; the guests are George Raft, Gene Autry, Joanne Dru, and Sheilah Graham.

On Tuesday, The Naked City (ABC, 9:00 p.m.) offers one of those little quirks that I always enjoy. The story involves the lead detectives, Muldoon and Halloran (John McIntire, James Franciscus, right) visiting tugboat captain Adam Flint (Cameron Prud'homme). Writer Stirling Silliphant must have really liked the name he came up with for the captain; when the show returned in 1960 for its second season, new star Paul Burke played a detective named—Adam Flint. Either that, or the captain underwent a remarkable career transformation.

On Wednesday, British comedian Dave King continues his stint as the replacement for Milton Berle's Kraft Music Hall (9:00 p.m., NBC). King was a somewhat surprising choice to take Berle's place, but as this week's profile points out, he was the right man in the right place at the right time. "We had heard of Dave through his agent in London," explains Larry Kanga, president of General Artists Corporation. "When we saw kinescopes of his show we were terribly excited about him as an American TV personality." It didn't hurt that the kines also impressed Perry Como, whose production company, Roncom, was responsible for filling the timeslot. Como greased the skids by introducing King on a couple of his own shows prior to King taking over the Wednesday night slot. He'll have moderate success in the States despite employing Mel Brooks as one of his writers; King will enjoy a long and varied career, encompassing straight dramatic acting on both television and in the movies, music hall appearances, and comedy series, before his death in 2002 at age 72. Of his transition to American television, King said, "There's little difference between TV over there and over here—except for your meetin's. They kill me." They kill us too, Dave.

Edward G. Robinson makes a rare television appearance in "Shadows Tremble," Thursday's episode of Playhouse 90 (9:30, CBS), which also stars Ray Walston, Beatrice Straight, and Robert Webber. It's up against NBC's Masquerade Party, and would this description cause you to tune in? "Tonight's mystery guests come disguised as an Eskimo who beats another Eskimo in a fight, a gingerbread man standing next to a gingerbread house, and a barber who attempts to fit the panelists with wigs." Well, maybe it's the kind of situation that caused VCRs to be invented.

On Friday, Bob Hope guests as himself on a rerun of I Love Lucy that sees everyone's favorite redhead try to get Hope for the opening of Ricky's club. (8:30 p.m., CBS) That picture, by the way, plays off of Hope's role as part-owner of the Cleveland Indians. Elsewhere, on CBS's Playhouse* (not to be confused with Playhouse 90, which we mentioned in the previous paragraph), James Stewart produces, directs, and narrates the docutrama "Cowboy Five Seven" (9:30 p.m.), the story of a routine day in the lives of the men serving in the Strategic Air Command. All those appearing in the drama are actual officers and enlisted men playing themselves, and I don't think I'll ever get over the idea of just how cool these men were; in the story, Major Gerald McKay leaves for work that morning, just like any other American man, promising he'll be home in time for his daughter's recital that night—unless, that is, he has to fly off and bomb Russia. That last part isn't part of the show's description, but it must have hung over everyone, unsaid, every time they headed off to the base. It takes a lot of courage to put that out of your mind, unlikely though it may have been on any given day. Finally, for the more pugnatious among you, there's a middleweight bout between Rory Calhoun (not the actor) and Dick Tiger (not yet the world middleweight and light-heavyweight champion) on NBC's Gillette Cavalcade of Sports (10:00 p.m.).

*Actually, either Schlitz Playhouse or Lux Playhouse, depending on the week's sponsor.

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Some odds and ends from the news wires: former president Harry Truman is reported to be one of the possible choices as the new host of CBS's Person to Person, succeeding Edward R. Murrow. Walter Cronkite, Ed Sullivan, and Jackie Gleason are others rumored to be in contention, but the final choice will be far less sensational and far more practical: former foreign correspondent Charles Collingwood, one of the "Murrow Boys" from the network's World War II reporting.

There was also a possibility of change at Ziv studios, but that seems to have been avoided, at least for the time being. Gene Barry, star of the studio's (and NBC's) successful Western Bat Masterson, has been holding out for more money and a better tax situation, and now he's apparently got it, but not before the studio offered the role to Gordon MacRae, who reportedly declined, saying "I'm pretty good with a gun, but with a cane I'm nothing." Which would have made for a beautiful morning for MacRae, perhaps, but maybe not such a beautiful day for Barry.

Walt Disney has sued ABC for antitrust violations, claiming the network is preventing him from shopping programs to other networks. Of course, ABC and Disney have had a long and successful relationship; the network even helped finance the construction of Disneyland. But TV Guide has reported in the past of Disney's growing frustration with the network over, among other things, limiting the variety of programs aired on Disneyland; too many Westerns for Walt's taste, if I recall correctly. Eventually, Walt takes his show and move to NBC. The irony, of course, is that now Disney owns ABC, although I don't think Walt would be pleased with either the studio or the network nowadays.

Jim Aubrey has taken over for Hubbell Robinson as programming chief for CBS, and in many ways the medium will never be the same. Robinson left CBS for a chance to run a proposed big-name series sponsored by Ford. (Ford Startime). During his tumultuous tenure at CBS, Aubrey will be responsible—according to his many, many critics—for pandering to the lowest common denominator* with shows like The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island, Petticoat Junction, and The Munsters. All of which, by the way, were pretty successful. 

*His formula for success was said to be "broads, bosoms, and fun,"

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YouTube provides a wealth of obscure television that has fallen into the public domain or otherwise avoided legitimate DVD release, and one of those series is Markham, the private detective series starring Oscar-winner Ray Milland that ran from 1958 through 1960. I like Ray Milland, and I like private detective stories, which made the series worth checking out. The results of my experiment in a moment.

First, there's TV Guide's review of the series, and it's not a positive one. Whereas Milland had built up Markham as "a combination Sherlock Holmes and Lord Peter Wimsey," Frank DeBlois reports that any resemblance to either of the great literary detectives is purely coincidental. "To be honest about it, Markham is nothing more than run-of-the-eyeball private-eye stuff." And even though some of the location shots are terrific, from cities such as Paris, Cairo, and Old Quebec, "Unfortunately, no matter where they film it, Markham never gets off the launching pad." The plots are "out of the meat-grinder," and the dialogue: well, the word used to describe it is "painful."

As for my own experience? Well, some of these words seem a bit harsh, but I can't really argue with the conclusion. To me, the show was run-of-the-eyeball, or at least run-of-the-mill. There was nothing terribly different or exciting about it; one episode featured Markham being locked out on an apartment balcony building during a freezing storm which will surely mean the end of him if he doesn't figure out some way of reentry into the building. All the way in the leadup to this situation, I'd hoped that Markham was just playing it cool, letting the killer fall into his trap - but no, Markham actually fell for the rather lame maneuver that allowed his adversary to trap him outside. It was, to be honest, a bit disappointing. There are other episodes, of course, some of them much better than this. And, as long as we are being honest, there never has been a private detective series on television in which a plot similar to this hasn't shown up somewhere along the line—with the exception, perhaps, of the aforementioned Sherlock Holmes, who was never bamboozled by anyone.

Don't get me wrong: I'm glad Markham is out there, just in case I get the urge to sample it again. I could be wrong about it, and it wouldn't be the first time I've felt that way about a series I wound up loving. But as long as TV Guide felt the same way I did, I don't feel so bad.

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Finally, a story that only someone of my age, or a little older, can really appreciate.

It turns out that around this time there was an organization known as the American Ionospheric Propagation Association, or AIPA for short. The club has members from teens to sexagenarians, publishes regular newsletters, and has regular conventions at which officers are elected, business is conducted, and members share their latest discoveries. Now, you're thinking, this is all well and good, and we know what AIPA stands for, but just what does AIPA actually do? I'm afraid the answer to that will result in another question, because the members of AIPA keep each other informed on the latest developments in "TV-DX." To which your reaction, quite rightly, should be to ask what that means.

What it means is that the members of AIPA spend their hobby time comparing notes on who's been able to pull in a television signal from the farthest distance away ("DX" being the standard abbreviation for "distance," don't you know). For example, one member, living in Dunkirk, New Jersey, was once able to pull in a signal from Havana, Cuba—and has a picture of the station's test pattern to prove it. Several factors conspire to make these atmospheric events possible: between May and July, for instance, the ionosphere becomes heavily charged, making the atmosphere denser, which causes TV signals that would otherwise head out to space to bend back toward the earth, often resulting in a distortion of several hundred (or even thousand) miles out from the intended viewing area.

Many of you may have experienced something similar when listening to the radio, when at the right time of the year and right time of the night you might be able to pull in radio broadcasts from St. Louis or Chicago or somewhere on one of the coasts; that's how I got to hear Jack Buck and Vin Scully and Lloyd Pettit when I was growing up. Television could work the same way, at least before cable and satellite, when you depended on a pair of rabbit ears and an outdoor antenna to get your television. Even in the '70s, living in the World's Worst Town™ with little more than a single aerial sticking out of the back of a black-and-white portable in my second-floor bedroom, I was able to get faint signals from the Twin Cities, 150 miles away. I got to see the odd half of football in the old World Football League (Channel 11), or the beginning of A.M. America (Channel 9), and on occasion part of a late movie or local show. It was quite the thing for me, and I was only looking for the Twin Cities; imagine what it would have been like had I gotten a signal from Montana or Michigan or—gasp—Iowa!

Really, moving that aerial around, twisting the dial this way and that, trying to see what came out of a field of static, was all rather exciting. And while I have nothing but love for cable and satellite and the wonderfully crisp, shadow-free pictures that we get, I admit that it makes the pursuit of television just that bit less romantic, even as television did the same to radio. It's all just a bit too easy nowadays, though I don't know what you can do about it. After all, if there's no room for romance in the shows we watch, what hope do we have for the rest of the television hobby? TV