The Failure of Phil Silvers

Two fine comedians couldn’t make television lighting strike twice in the early 1960s.

Groucho Marx spent more than a decade wisecracking with contestants on You Bet Your Life, but when he tried a similar show in 1962 called Tell It to Groucho, it bombed.

Likewise, Phil Silvers’ Bilko show ended with the 1950s and he tried again in 1963 with a self-titled show, basically playing Bilko. But he couldn’t make it fly, despite the presence of director Rod Amateau and writers Harvey Bullock and Bob Allen.

Here’s a look-ahead to the new show, which appeared in newspapers starting around Sept. 13, 1963.

Silvers Still Bilko In New Civilian Role
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
Hollywood Correspondent Newspaper Enterprise Assn.
HOLLYWOOD, Sept. 13 (NEA)—Sgt. Bilko—oops, I mean Harry Grafton of the "NEW Phil Silvers Show"—leaves the factory set and plops down on a couch in his dressing room in corner of Stage 10 at the Fox studio. "Just a little dizzy," apologizes Silvers, who is Harry Grafton now. "Maybe it's tension—the new show, my wife expecting our fourth child, the freeway traffic this morning. A little hot tea should fix me up. Boy, a little hot tea, please."
The NEW Phil Silvers show makes its debut on CBS-TV Sept. 28. But as almost everyone knows, Sgt. Bilko is still with us except he is a factory maintenance boss now in a blue baseball cap and gray coveralls.
The name of Grafton is as appropriate as Gladasya Prods., the company Phil formed and which gives him full say on his laugh-getting and a chance to keep more of the big money the network is paying him for his enormous talents.
Harry Grafton, like Sgt. Bilko, is all "graft" in his diverse activities. The "Gladasya" goes back to Phil's early movie career when he always played the friend of the hero. His most important and sometimes only line always seemed to be, "Glad to see ya." That's how "Gladasya Prod." was born.
Phil is happy to explain how Harry Grafton was born.
Sipping the hot tea, he says: "Sure I was disappointed when CBS canceled the Bilko show. I didn't understand then, but I do now. It cost too much. It was split too many ways. The network tried to help me swing a deal to bring Bilko back to television, but it was still too expensive, too complicated, cut too many ways.
So how close Is Harry Grafton to Bilko? The answer includes the question, "How close is Phil Silvers to Bilko?"
Very close, yes sir. Phil has been playing Bilko in one way or another practically all of his life, you might say.
But for the first time, he's now in a position to let the fast talking scamp set him up financially for the rest of his me.
As Harrv Grafton, Phil will have as many things going for him as Bilko. His "sidelines" as the maintenance boss in the factory include a sliding wall behind which he operates a little factory of his own; leasing part of the warehouse after hours to an amateur theatrical group, and ownership of a coffee wagon.
Such a coffee wagon you’ve never seen. In addition to coffee, there are daily foreign food delights which usually are served along with dancing girls costumed to match.
For foils and accomplices, Phil's factory crew includes his old pal Herbie Faye as "Waluska," and Jim Shane, a six-foot, six-inch 235 pounder who will be the fall guy for Phil's wildest schemes. Stafford Repp, as the plant manager, will be as confused as Bilko's old army boss.
"This says Phil, "I'm gambling on myself. But I'm not playing the big tycoon behind the scenes. I'm sitting in only on what I know about."
The tea and the dizziness gone, Phil goes back to work as a baby sitter with a 14-month-old baby boy on his lap. As the father of four girls, Phil cracks between scenes: "It better be a boy, this next girl."

Hot tea may have fixed Silvers, but something more was needed to fix his show. First, CBS changed the time slot. And then Silvers decided to re-work the series.

This unbylined story in the South Bend Tribune of Jan. 25, 1964 was one of a number that explained the situation.

Silvers Admits He Made Mistake
HOLLYWOOD—Phil Silvers expands his television format introduces his new television family on "The New Phil Silvers Show" next Saturday.
Elena Verdugo, the onetime heroine of all Brooklyn in "Meet Millie" has been signed to portray Audrey, Harry Grafton's sister.
"Phil as Grafton will no longer be top dog. He'll have to contend a sharp, determined sister who knows his every trick," producer Rod Amateau said.
Boy Is Added
Amateau also announced that Sandy Descher, 18-year-old actress who made 50 films before she was ten and who was last seen on "The New Loretta Young Show," will portray Audrey's daughter, Susan.
Ten-year-old Ronnie Dapo, a lively lad in the film version of "The Music Man" and who will soon be seen in the film “Kisses For My President," will play Andy Grafton's nephew.
Silvers explained the new approach for the series this way: "I had put my head in the sand. We were trying to relate to the common people. It didn't occur to us that the factory foreman isn't the underdog; the underdog is the factory owner. In comedy anyway."
"I set a standard with Bilko," he said, "and I haven't lived up to it. My pride is such that I got a necessary kick in the pants this season. So we shut down for five weeks to take a breather and improve the series as best we could."
Honesty Is Incredible

Silvers' honesty is almost incredible. He assumes all the blame himself. Other stars belittle the network, sponsor, scripts, or rap viewers for not having enough intelligence to appreciate their work.
In giving the series a face-lift Silvers has burned 10 completed new scripts. A tremendously expensive bonfire.
"The 11 shows with the new format will be a situation family comedy," he said, "but not as sweet as those already on the air.
"The important thing is we've got Grafton out of the factory and into the world where he can operate under all kinds of conditions."
Credits Fan Loyalty
Silvers credits fan loyalty with preventing a total catastrophe.
"If it hadn't been for the affection of the fans who stayed with me maybe the show would have been off the air by now," he said. "Well, I owe those people something—a good series.
"And they're going to get it. If the new format is a big success I will stay with it next season. If not, I've got an entirely new idea for next fall that I really believe in.
"I can't reveal what it is, but it would be a new character in new setting with a new cast. It's my responsibility to my audience, and I want to discharge it the best way I know how."

Viewers didn’t accept a Bilko-like character in a family-like setting, especially when they could watch re-runs of the original Phil Silvers show. The New Phil Silvers Show lasted 30 episodes and by the summer, Silvers was in a touring company of his biggest hit: Top Banana.

Silvers was back on television the following season, but not on camera. Silvers’ production company, Gladasya, put a new show on the air, one that lives on in reruns today. It was about seven stranded castaways on an uncharted desert isle. I don’t need to name the series, do I? Silvers guest starred in my favourite episode as fast-talking, shady, show biz producer Harold Hecuba. In essence, he was playing Bilko one more time.

Mitzi McCall

Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In went into its second season with producer George Schlatter adding to the cast. Among the newcomers were a pair of nightclub comedians—Mitzi McCall and Charlie Brill, “the fun couple.” The two of them married in 1960 and stayed that way for 64 years.

Mitzi has passed away at the age of 93.

She came from Pittsburgh, where she hosted the Kiddle Castle children’s show on WDTV. She was married to director Jack Tolen, who was hired in June 1953 to be the programme director of the new NBC-TV station (KFSD-TV) in San Diego. Her husband put her on Studio Ten, the station’s weekday afternoon housewife/variety show. Her big break came soon. Leon Gutterman led off his column for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Nov. 19, 1954 with a story about her.

Jerry Lewis Predicts Stardom for Mitzi McCall
HOLLYWOOD—Comedian Jerry Lewis, who is feeling a lot better these days—he was ill for quite a while—has predicted to his Hollywood friends that the new discovery, Mitzi McCall, who’ll be playing opposite him in his new film, “You’re Never Too Young,” is destined for quick stardom. Jerry picked Mitzi from 200 girls interviewed by himself and Paramount representatives. He insisted: "I'd have selected this sensational personality in a minute from 5,000 girls if it had gone that far."
To those of us who knew pretty Mitzy McCall [sic] when her name was Mitzi Steiner, and saw her doing occasional acting and singing engagements over radio and in Los Angeles and in Pittsburgh, this comes as no surprise. Now that Paramount has signed Mitzi and is ready to begin grooming her for stardom, we predict she'll replace Betty Hutton as the studio in a very short time.
Mitzi’s story has a Cinderella plot to it. For months she went from agent to agent in Hollywood pleading for some kind of chance. Nobody saw anything in her. In fact, very few agents even gave her the courtesy of an interview. Jerry Lewis heard about her from director Norman Taurog. Norman took her to Jerry's house and right into Jerry’s bedroom where the young comedian was recuperating from his illness. Mitzi walked in and began impersonating Jerry Lewis for Jerry Lewis. Jerry says he almost fell out of his bed howling with laughter. Mitzi, still under terrific tension, went through her other bits of mimicry. Jerry shouted, "'That's enough! That's the kid we've been for! Let's sign her right away!”

Erskine Johnson’s column of Oct. 3, 1954, quotes Mitzi as telling Lewis when she first met him: “You must meet my husband. He’s not like me—he’s refined.” “Just like my family,” Jerry replied. “My wife is refined, too.”

Both jettisoned their partners (in Jerry’s case, we mean Dean Martin), and carried on with their careers. Mitzi became part of a double act. But, as the Los Angeles Times reported at the end of 1960, it was with Joan Shawlee. She and her husband didn’t go on stage together until December 1961 with an appearance at the hungry i in San Francisco, but not before a “good luck” call from Jerry Lewis.

How was it the two came to be on Laugh-In? They explained it to the syndicated TV Key column on Sept. 19, 1968.

They Said Program Needed Them
By HARVEY PACK
HOLLYWOOD—Mitzi McCall and Charlie Brill are a comedy team who specialize in improvisations and zany repartee.
When they saw "Laugh-In" last season on NBC, they began to salivate because it was obvious to McCall and Brill that the program desperately needed them.
In addition to sharing the stage, Mitzi and Charlie share a home, child and telephone because they are married. Charlie picked up the phone and called "Laugh-In" producer George Schlatter. As soon as he was connected he handed the phone to Mitzi because she takes care of all family appointments.
"Hello, is Mr. Schlatter there?" asked Mitzi. When she gave her name to the secretary, she was told Mr. Schlatter was not available. "Oh," she said, and Charlie could see the wheels turning. "Well, tell him McCall and Brill returned his call and we're tired of having him pester us."
After she hung up Charlie wanted an explanation. "I couldn't think of anything else to say," laughed the Pittsburgh-born pixie. "Let him figure out that message."
Thus began a series of unanswered phone messages from the Brills' "Laugh-In" office. Hardly a day went by when George Schlatter wasn't told to stop bothering the Brills because they were not interested in doing his show. It paid off. One day Charlie and Mitzi were asked come in and meet their adversary face to face. When “Laugh-In” reconvenes Charlie and Mitzi will be seen regularly for what they are, a funny married couple.
"It's a new version of something from the early days of TV called 'The Bickersons' which featured Don Ameche and Frances Langford,” explained Charlie. "They asked us to listen to an old album but we didn't want any preconceived ideas."
The Brills are always "on" even when they're alone. It's an infectious kind of banter best described as Burns and Allen, vintage 1968. "Charlie," blurted Mitzi right smack in the middle of the interview. "We're supposed to see a man about a commercial today."
"When?" asked Charlie.
"Two hours ago," moaned Mitzi looking at her husband's watch. "I'll go call him . . . excuse me. . .”
"She's kind of crazy all the time,” explained Charlie as his wife went scurrying off to a phone. "I'll bet she doesn't remember our home phone number." He asked her the number when she returned and she rattled it off immediately but she had a bit of trouble with their address.
Bankruptcy to Success
"You know we've had it rough," continued Brill, the Brooklyn born half of the team. "We went to New York to do a guest spot on the 'Tonight' show," [on Sept. 14, 1962] and when we found out we wouldn't get the $320 for several weeks, we had to answer one of those ads in which they give you a car to drive to California and pay for the gas. Otherwise we couldn't have made it back to the coast. I could have gone to my relatives in Brooklyn but how do you explain that kind of bankruptcy to people who think you're a big success because were on the 'Tonight' show?"
But things are looking up; the Brills hope the "Laugh-In" is the big break. "We're been married eight years," said Mitzi. "And outside of our daughter who arrived on our eighth anniversary this is the best thing that's ever happened to us."
They met when Charlie auditioned for the Jerry Lewis Comedy Workshop, of which Mitzi was already a member. She sat with Lewis, watched Charlie do his routines and decided right, then and there that this was it. When she confided her plans to Charlie, the two were married.
Charlie likes to be told he looks like Peter Sellers. Mitzi panics when told she reminds one of Jo Anne Worley. “I love Jo Anne,” she explains, “But she’s on ‘Laugh-In’ and I don’t want any confusion.” “Nobody will be confused,” interrupts her husband. “Everybody will know you’re the one who works with Peter Sellers.”

Laugh-In added to the cast in the second season, and subtracted as well. It would appear McCall and Brill were too busy with nightclub work to stay on the show. The following February, after 13 Laugh-Ins, they were in Hawaii as part of the Jack Jones show. “People recognize us now. Isn’t that wonderful?” they said to the Honolulu Star Advertiser.

While a handful of people may remember them with Dan and Dick, animation fans will know McCall from her work on The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show and other cartoon series. Game show fans will know her from her energetic appearances with her husband on Tattletales. And entertainment history buffs will know the two of them from the night of February 9, 1964, when they followed the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show. It would have been an unenviable situation to begin with, but Sullivan changed their act at the last minute. Mitzi got in an ad-lib that, backstage, she had stepped on a beatle. They’re better known for years of telling interviewers of how big a disaster their appearance had been than the appearance itself.

Yes, the two of them did other things (the 1953 photo to the left should read “Shirley Jones”), but this little reminscence should you give you a good idea about Mitzi McCall’s sense of humour that kept her employed for quite a while.

From Shorthair to Spy

At the end, the producers of Get Smart tried to squeeze every last ounce of satiric comedy out of the show, but there was nothing left, and hadn’t been any for some time.

The series ran out of fresh ideas and had to restore to ratings-grabbing clichés as marriage and child birth. But at the start it was clever, intelligent, ridiculous and very funny. A great deal of credit for the show went to the clever, intelligent, ridiculous and very funny Mel Brooks and Buck Henry.

Brooks moved from television and comedy records to memorable feature films. We won’t get into those but will instead check out several interviews with Brooks at the time Get Smart was getting started.

How did Brooks get his start on TV? It wasn’t exactly auspicious. This unbylined story, perhaps from the NBC publicity department, appeared in papers starting March 26, 1965.

Party Laughs Led to Footlights
HOLLYWOOD—For a fellow who was supposed to be a cat in his television debut, but couldn't even meow on cue, Mel Brooks is coming along.
He has become known to a lot of people who buy records and watch television as “the 2000 year old man,” that stocky guy in the black cape and black hat who’s usually being interviewed by Carl Reiner.
The two have made three hit comedy records, several TV guest appearances and now cap these with a visit to the season's fifth and final “Danny Thomas Special” on NBC-TV Friday, April 23 (8:30-9:30 EST).
No one is more surprised at this lengthening list of performing credits than Brooks a writer by trade.
'I'D NEVER PERFORMED in television," said Mel, “and the first thing they gave me to do I nearly goofed.”
That was back in the '50s when “Your Show of Shows” topped the TV comedy field. Sid Caesar was the star, Carl Reiner was second banana and Mel Brooks was one of the writers.
"There was this sketch we called ‘Dial M for Money,’” Mel began. “It was supposed to be spooky-funny and at one point I was supposed to make a sound off-camera like a cat. But when it came time, I froze. Sid had to retrace his steps, go back to my place in the script and give me a second shot at it before I could come through.”
It was at one of the cast parties that followed these shows that "The 2000 year old man” was born.
"WE'D ALWAYS GO to somebody's apartment and have some laughs,” said Mel. "One time Carl brought along a tape recorder. In those days a big show on radio was “We the People”—you know, interviews with unusual characters.
“Well, one night Carl decided he was going to do ‘We the People.’ He pushed the mike in front of me and announced—off the top of his head, I'm sure”—'Here's a man who's lived 2000 years. Let's see what he has to say.’ He started asking me all kinds of questions and I started ad libbing answers. Our friends loved it. We became a big hit on the party circuit".
Next thing the pair knew, they were making a record of the act for Steve Allen's recording company. They proved a smash on platters, "but in personal appearances we didn't do so well,” said Brooks. "Then I got the idea of using the cape and hat and from then on everything's been fine."
Although the cat bit was Brooks' first performance on TV, it wasn't his first performance in front of an audience. For several years he worked outside his native New York in the Catskill Mountain summer resorts known as the “borscht belt" as a social director.
“I did everything from heavy drama to revue comedy to tending the rowboats. But mostly what was expected of me was singing, dancing and not eating with the guests.”
Now, considering how far Mel has come along, maybe they'd let him.

Brooks and Buck Henry took a concept about an inept spy from David Susskind and Dan Melnick and developed it into Get Smart. It might seem odd a writer/creator was picked instead of the star to talk about a series, but Brooks was pretty hot then thanks to the 2,000 Year Old Man. This Newspaper Enterprise Association column appeared starting Sept. 3rd.

Finally, An Inept Spy
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD, Calif. (NEA)—Maxwell Smart is a bungling espionage agent—Secret Agent 86—who works for CONTROL in "its ceaseless conflict with the nefarious agents of KAOS."
Smart is aided by a feminine assistant secret—Agent 99—and Fang, a dog. The dog is as cowardly as Smart is incredibly inept.
Like James Bond, Smart lives in a world of unreality created by CONTROL. A tiny telephone, hidden in the heel of his shoe, rings at the strangest times. While, for instance, he is attending a symphony concert.
The heavies of KAOS are as incredible as Smart is inept. Sinister Mr. Big of KAOS is a midget.
SILENT ROAR
Another villain confronted by Smart's zealous inefficiency is a ballet star.
Among Secret Agent Smart's big collection of deadly weapons is a gun silencer (which produces the roar of a cannon) and an invisible shield which he seldom can locate because it is invisible even to him.
Comedian Don Adams plays the role of Maxwell Smart in NBC's new weekly series, "Get Smart," debuting Sept. 18. Last year Don played Glick, the world's worst house detective, on "The Bill Dana Show."
The creator of Get Smart Is Mel Brooks (with Buck Henry), one-time comedy writer (five years) for Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. He's also the writer, with Carl Reiner, of the 2000 Year Old Man, which he plays, in the hit comedy album.
"Get Smart" is described by NBC as "a spoof of cloak and dagger heroics." It is closer, however, to being an outrageous triple spoof. Since the first James Bond movie. Agent 007's heroics have been cloaked in satire. A satire on this satire has been the key to the success of television's "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." starring Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo.
Now "Get Smart" will spoof both Bond as 007 and Vaughn as Solo.
Is it possible to successfully spoof a spoof of a spoof?
Creator Mel Brooks thinks it is. He says:
"We are simply translating the James Bond syndrome into our terms in adventure comedy. We hope to become America's dessert for laughs. We're not going to edify or illuminate. Our character of Smart is so overearnest I think maybe he will be compared to Harold Lloyd in his early comedies.
"We're not just tongue-in-cheek. We jam our tongue in cheek. We spent four months writing the original script. We gave it the same care Tolstoi gave 'Anna Kerenina.’ “Get Smart” isn't as massive a work as 'Anna Kerenina,’ but," grins Mel, "it's funnier."
Of all the new fall shows, "Get Smart" is the most-talked about in Hollywood TV circles these days. A cinch hit is the verdict.
Mel Brooks isn't worried about this, either. "Living up to a preseason prediction can be dangerous," he admits, "but I'm not worried. I'm fat. I've got bread for a year, at least."

Somewhat remarkably, Brooks came back to television earlier this year 96 when a sequel to his 1981 “History of the World, Part I” aired on Hulu. Brooks is 97 years old. Why work so late in life, especially considering all the honours showered on him. He told Variety he’s happy “every once in a while, hearing people laugh.”

Perhaps that’ll be on his tombstone. He has only 1,903 years to go.

Desi

His name will always be joined together with Lucy’s.

“The same old booze and broads” finally broke up Desi Arnaz’s marriage with Lucille Ball. Lucy pushed for I Love Lucy to get on the air because she thought it would save her marriage. It did for a while. And even though Lucy re-married, fans insist the two loved each other until the day she died.

Desi wasn’t an actor when he put I Love Lucy together. Nor was he a producer. He was a musician. His acting skills were passable for the show; he came across as a decent guy. His producing skills were brilliant. He insisted the show be shot on film, meaning the episodes could be re-run. That meant money, money, money, though I imagine CBS got a good chunk of it.

Here’s a syndicated newspaper story April 24, 1958 when he and Lucy were arguably TV’s number one couple.

TV Star-Tycoon Desi Arnaz Gets Lots of Riches But No Emmy for Recognition
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD—(NEA)— Hollywood's biggest house cleaning job had been completed and it was moving day for Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.
Desi wanted to bring along his bongo drum for a fanfare of wild ecstatic beats because of the occasion's significance but Lucy had talked him out of it. With nothing to do, rare for him, Desi just stood and looked at the new Desilu Studio—the big, 14-stage one-time RKO motion picture studio which he and Lucy purchased last fall for $6,150,000.
Then he looked at me and grinned:
"It ain't an Emmy!"
After seven years of TV stardom and executive status as owner-boss with Lucy of a company which produces twice as much film for TV as any of the major movie studios produce for the world's theaters, Desi Arnaz has never won an Emmy or even been nominated for one.
Turned Prophet
He's been called Hollywood's TV tycoon.
He's been called a TV business genius.
He's been called a TV prophet for deciding film was best for "I Love Lucy" back in 1951.
He's been called to watch Lucy accept an Emmy.
But he's never been called to the stage for personal TV recognition.
"There never was an Emmy for my type of performance," he likes to laugh about it. "I even suggested a classification for Cuban fellows with an accent who played the drums, who were married to redheads but nothing happened."
Nothing happened, that is, except that the 41-year-old fellow Lucy calls "The Mad Cuban" became the first TV star to buy a motion picture studio. Or as Hollywood likes to tell it, "Lucy said, 'All I want for Christmas is RKO,' so Desi bought it for her."
Three Studios
What they really own is three studios — two in Hollywood, one in nearby Culver City. Total sound stages: 35. Total TV shows filmed under the Desilu hallmark—27. Along the way, as you may have heard, Lucy and Desi picked up a big home next door to Jack Benny in Beverly Hills and another in Palm Springs, where they also own a hotel and an 18-hole golf course. Not bad for a one-time bongo drummer and a long-time movie comedienne.
Now they hope to make movies, too. Or as Desi tells it: "If we get a good story that just won't fit on that small screen, then we'll do it as a movie feature." It was moving day for Desi¬lu. More room, more stages, bigger offices, Ginger Rogers' old dressing room for Lucy, their favorite foods in the studio cafe, an oak paneled kingdom for Desi, a built-in nursery for the new baby of one of their writers, Madelyn Pugh.
Met at RKO
It was sentimental day and homecoming day, too.
A Hollywood success story with a wallop.
Lucy and Desi met and fell in love on an RKO movie stage in 1940. But RKO studio, now Desilu Studio, fired Desi a few months later. Then RKO didn't agree with Lucy on her career, Desi returned to his old job as a bongo-beating orchestra leader and Lucille moved on to bigger and better roles at MGM.
They found memories of those days during their spring-housecleaning job at the studio. Photos of Lucy in the studio files captioned "screendom's most colorful young actress."
I can even tell you that Desi couldn't even find RKO studio on his first day in Hollywood, He'd been signed after clicking on Broadway in "Too Many Girls." He drove through the entrance to a cemetery ad joining the studio that first day and announced to the surprised gateman:
"I'm Desi Arnaz. I work here."
The gateman laughed and said, "Mister, if you're a live actor, you belong next door. Drive down the street a couple of blocks. That's RKO." And that's Hollywood, too. Today Desi owns RKO.

That all changed within two years. Lucy and Desi shot their final scene together on The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour in 1960. Lucy filed for divorce days later.

What happened to Desi? Let’s jump ahead nine years. Here’s a wire service piece from August 23, 1967. There were two versions of this feature story. One started “On a clear day, Desi Arnaz can see the horizon line of the blue Pacific from the terrace of his beach home here and even on a foggy morning, he can spot neighbor Jimmy Durante studying a racing form sheet.” There’s no mention of Durante or “buying alfalfa and selling yearlings” in this longer version.

Back In Show Business, Desi Arnaz Is Surprised
By CYNTHIA LOWRY
AP Television-Radio Writer
DEL MAR, Calif. (AP) — Desi Arnaz, in the period following his divorce from Lucille Ball, sold his stock in Desilu, quit show business and retired to his horse farm, his boat, the track and golf course. He stood it for three years, but now he's back with both feet—and seems a little surprised.
"Things that got me where I was were the things I couldn't do when I got there," said the man who built a camera technique and a comedy series into a giant production company, Desilu, and a fortune.
Arnaz, now in his early fifties, has picked up some weight and his hair shows considerably more salt than pepper. After three years in retirement and two developing new shows he was lured back into television as producer and director of NBC's new comedy series, "The Mothers-in-Law," and has even been persuaded to act in one of the episodes.
After directing the first eight episodes, he is sidelined at his beach home at this Pacific Ocean resort recuperating from a freak accident which almost took his life. A veranda on which he was sitting collapsed and threw him against a metal stake, puncturing his side and requiring emergency surgery.
"I got where I didn't want to be because things began parlaying," said Arnaz, lighting a slim cigar and squinting at the ocean through dark glasses.
"We had a little studio and 'I Love Lucy' and then to compete we had to get a larger studio and from there on we had to get out or get bigger. We wound up with three big studios. But by 1962 I decided I didn't want to be Lew Wasserman (head of Universal Studios). I wanted to be Willie Wyler (a top film director)."
But for three years, Desi was neither. But his attention inevitably was caught by a book which he thought would make a good movie. Soon William Paley, chairman of the Columbia Broadcasting System, called him, Arnaz said, and asked if he really intended to return to work—outside television. "No more rat race," Desi told him. "No more wanting things day before yesterday."
"It takes three years to get even in television while losing $5,000 or $10,000 a year," he explained. "I was even then and I didn't know anything about comedy shows with gimmicks where the people take pills or live in bottles. . . Comedy is where you pile one joke on top of another joke and people laugh.
But the result was that Desi Arnaz returned to television, signed by CBS, his old network, to develop shows. And the first venture was based on an idea that had been kicking around Desilu since "I Love Lucy" days.
He first managed to get back Bob Carroll Jr. and Madelyn Davis who had written all 180 original Lucy shows. Eve Arden was added as the star comedienne, and although not Desi's first choice, Kaye Ballard joined her when Arnaz saw her performing in a night club.
The show was called "The Mothers-in-Law." Then CBS and a rich, important sponsor interested him in finding a situation comedy for Carol Channing. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly.
He planned to use the three-camera, live-on-film technique, made before a studio audience, which he developed for "I Love Lucy."
But then the come-back-story of Desi Arnaz took an unexpected turn. First "The Carol Channing Show" was dropped—then CBS turned thumbs down on "The Mothers-in-Law."
Later, "The Mothers-In Law," which had been developed with CBS money, was rescued—by NBC. Arnaz, naturally, feels that he has a good, funny show for the home folks, but he is hardly cocky since NBC has slotted it in a Sunday night half-hour that has proved to be a Death Valley for a succession of predecessors—opposite the second halves of both CBS' Ed Sullivan hour and ABC's "The FBI."
"I think it's honest comedy," he said with a shrug. "I guess somebody at CBS didn't like it. But I think you have to do something that you like, and then you have to find the right writers and actors who can play it. You start out to do something you think is fun. Then the public will judge. And if we are wrong, well, nuts, I'll go back to the horse ranch."
Arnaz, who handpicked Eve Arden to top-line the new show, says that effective, disciplined comedienne is the rarest bird in show business.
"In the past 30 years, how many really attractive women comediennes can you think of?" he asked. "Carole Lombard, Jean Arthur, Roz Russell, Kay Kendall, Lucy, of course, and Eve—that's just about the whole list.”
Arnaz, talking about women "who do things funny"—as opposed to doing funny things—observed that Jean Arthur can even "open a door funny" and that "Lucy can walk funny."
He is still convinced that the only way to achieve his ideal of television comedy is by using the technique of filming it while the cast is performing each show like a short play before a studio audience.
"You just can't fake those laughs we got," he said. "Hell, they are still using some of those old 'I Love Lucy' laughs as tracks for shows they are making today. Charlie Pomerantz—once the 'Lucy' press agent—and Dee-Dee—Desiree Ball, Lucy's mother—used to come to all the shows, and we all got to know the sound of their laughs. Just the other night I was watching a show and all of a sudden I heard Charlie and Dee Dee laughing."
Since Desi went back to television, Arnaz and his second wife, the former Edie Mark Hirch, have added a third home—an apartment in remodeled offices in one of the Desilu studios which Desi ruled when he was married to Lucille Ball. Now he’s just another of tie studio lessees.
"I like that," he said. "It's good when somebody in the studio comes up to tell me how much it's going to cost me to use something. And I can tell him, hell, he doesn't have to tell me because Fin the guy that set the price originally."

The Mothers in Law had casting problems and eked out two seasons. He made a few TV appearances and packaged some old shows for home video but, basically, it seems he pretty much concentrated on his horses. Arnaz died of lung cancer in late 1986.

People loved Lucy, and still do. I suspect they still like Ricky Ricardo and the man who played him.

Archie Was a Carpenter

There are two transitions in show business that can prove difficult, and Robert Francis Hastings made both of them successfully.

He jumped from network radio to television, and he went from child stardom to an acting career as an adult.

“Three famous guests will appear on tonight’s ‘Barn Dance’ program over WHAM at 9:00 p.m.,” announced an ad in the September 23, 1939 edition of the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. “Alec Templeton, wizard of the piano; Bobby Hastings, twelve-year-old singing wonder, and Johnny Burke, old-time vaudeville comedian, who for twenty years has been known as ‘The Man Who Won the War.’”

Hastings’ radio career took him from Nick Kenny’s WMCA programme in New York to the Barn Dance (in Chicago) to the title role in the Saturday morning radio show “The Adventures of Archie Andrews” through a circuitous set of circumstances. “Archie” started off on the Blue network on May 31, 1943, airing for 15 minutes on weeknights. Jack Grimes was Archie. It was rejigged and turned into a half-hour Friday night show on Blue, then shrunk back to a 15-minute daytimer, then expanded to a 25-minute show on Friday nights. Jack Grimes was still Archie until he turned 18 and the U.S. Navy claimed him in April 1944. Bert Boyer was now Archie. The show was had moved to Mutual and shrunk to 15 minutes again at the start of the year. Anyway, Archie began life anew on NBC on September 29, 1945. Charles Mullen was now Archie. Bob Hastings took over the role by April 1946.

I’ve found a Christian Science Monitor interview with Mullen at the time but poor Bob Hastings doesn’t seem to have received much publicity during his spell as Archie. That didn’t happen until his most famous TV role came along in 1962—toadying tar Lt. Elroy Carpenter on McHale’s Navy, a series he joined after the pilot episode for what was supposed to be a solo appearance. Here’s a United Press International story from September 9, 1964.

Hollywood Loser Is In Luck Now
By JOSEPH FINNIGAN
UPI Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD (UPI)—Actor Bob Hastings, an all time Hollywood loser, has struck it rich, signing a seven year television contract which could make him a rich man.
Its good news to Hastings’ wife and their four children. The wife of a free lance actor sometimes never knows where hubby’s next paycheck is coming from.
In Hastings’ case, things weren’t that bad. He has been a regular on “McHale’s Navy” for two years, his title as a loser coming from the fact that he plays Lt. Carpenter, aide to the hapless Capt. Binghamton.
Lt. Carpenter seems always to get it in the neck as he pays for everybody else's mistakes. But even television's losers get a break in real life. Hastings good fortune is well deserved. He’s a talented actor and a nice chap.
Glad To Have Contract
"After two years I got a contract, said Hastings over cocktails in a Chinese restaurant across the street from Universal Studio. I’m happy about it. And with a wife and four children I’m glad to have it.”

Hastings’ enlistment in “McHale’s Navy” started out as a short term affair.
“I came in as a one shot guy and they decided to make me the captain’s aide,” Hastings said. “The first year I did about 24 shows out of 38 and the second year I did 36 out of 37. Then they decided to sign me. They had built the part up to my advantage. Now I’m putting money in the bank every week. I’m guaranteed 40 weeks work out of 52. Thank God, I’m working. I’ve been around a long time and this is the easiest work I’ve ever done.”
Hastings character of Lt. Carpenter could have been dismissed from the show after that first appearance two years ago. But since then, Hastings’ talented portrayal of the rule-reciting naval officer has made the character an integral part of the show.
Plays Fall Guy
“He’s become a down-the-line jackass,” said Hastings, describing the character. “He knows all the rules, goes by the book. ‘McHale’s’ crowd knows none of the rules and they come up smiling. I get it in the neck.
“A great asset to me in the show is that I work with Joe Flynn (Capt. Binghamton). Flynn is one of the finest comedians. He has great timing and I feel the way we have worked together has kept me on the show. It made my part important."
As we said, it’s good to see the loser win once in awhile. Bob gets batted around enough on that show. The least the television brass can do is give him a little financial security.

Here’s a column from the Newspaper Enterprise Association dated February 1, 1965.

Hastings Still Gets Nervous During Show
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD (NEA)—After three years of regular stardom as dopey Lt. Carpenter of ABC-TV's "McHale's Navy," Bob Hastings says he's still nervous every time the director asks for action. But he's not nervous about being nervous.
He's happy about it.
"It is my theory," explains the boyish father of four, "that an actor can't give a good performance without being nervous. It keeps you on your toes. So I work this way. I only learn half of my lines, skim over the other half. So now as Carpenter I'm doubly nervous. I keep getting more scared all the time."
That Hastings' method is working for him is obvious. He made his debut on the show three years ago for only one appearance but quickly became a regular. Now, teamed with Joe Flynn, their scenes together have become show stealers.
Success, however, has also left him nervous—about money. He's earning more than he's ever made. “But,” he laughs, "I can't quite get used to it. I don't have the nerve to go out and buy a $200 suit. When my wife (former radio singer Joan Rice) and our four children go out to dinner, the kids know they each have a $1 limit.
"The other night we stopped at a fancy restaurant and when the menu arrived, the kids went into a panic. The cheapest dinner was $3.60. I noticed their panic and smiled, 'Okay, kids. $3.60 is the limit tonight, but no more,' Well, they looked at me like some kind of hero."
Bob Hastings has been in show business all his life, first as a singer on the National Barn Dance, then as an actor on network radio (Archie Andrews) and live television.
"Usually as an actor," he says, "I played fast-talking characters sort of in the Jack Carson style. This Carpenter role is something new for me. When I moved out to Hollywood from New York in 1960, things were slow for me. I played bit roles, such as a house painter on 'The Real McCoys.' I was sort of being typed as a smiling heavy when the role in 'McHale's Navy' came along."
He has a younger brother, Don Hastings, also an actor who has been starred for four years now on the TV soap opera, "As The World Turns." They often confuse fans. "Our voices are the same and we look somewhat alike and I'm getting letters now from curious people who write. 'How can you play a daily TV role in New York and also work with McHale's gang in Hollywood?'"
His idol as a comedian is Joe Flynn, who plays his captain in the series. "We have a lot of fun in that office," he grins. "Joe's always dreaming things up for me to do. I'm grateful to him for the way things have turned out on this series.

Hastings’ other well-known TV role was on a show that was a far cry from the tone of “McHale’s Navy.” He showed up periodically as Kelsey, the owner of the bar frequented (and later purchased by) Archie Bunker on “All in the Family.”

The role that Hastings should have got, but didn’t, was that of Archie Andrews. We’re talking about the cartoon version of Archie produced by the Filmation studio. Hastings was familiar to the people at Filmation as he had played Superboy in the studio’s “New Adventures of Superman” in 1966. Instead, Dal MacKennon was hired to impersonate Dick Crenna as Walter Denton on “Our Miss Brooks.”

Hastings did have more shots at starring as radio’s Archie, even though the series went off the air on September 14, 1949 before returning on Saturday nights at 7:30 on January 14, 1950 until April 1, then moving to 11:30 a.m. on May 13, and, well you get the idea. In later years, he and many fine actors appeared at various old time radio conventions where programmes of yester-year were re-created. Hastings passed away in 2014 at the age of 89.

Television's Successes

What makes a TV show a success?

There’s no one, specific answer.

In 1963, one columnist looked at three shows that had been on the air for quite some time—two Goodson-Todman game shows, and Jack Benny’s weekly prime time sometime-variety show—and did brief examinations of each. To sum up, all three shows had things going on that kept the viewer interested.

The situation didn’t stay the same. Garry Moore quit I’ve Got a Secret, Benny’s show was cancelled in 1965 and What’s My Line suffered the same fate a few years later.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence, but I’ve heard from quite a number of Benny fans who enjoy the original What’s My Line. Benny appeared on the show as a mystery guest, as did Dennis Day (and, of course, Fred Allen became a panellist until his death in 1956).

Two Guessing Games, Benny, “Indestructable”
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
Hollywood Correspondent
Newspaper Enterprise Assn.
HOLLYWOOD (NEA) — “The Indestructibles” of television—the 10 longest-running, regularly scheduled television programs—include two guessing game shows: “What’s My Line?” and “I’ve Got a Secret.”
Their long-running success is a combination of deeply planted roots dating back 13 years for “Line” and 11 for “Secret” and, above all, ordinary people. It is the constant parade of people—people with offbeat occupations and in offbeat situations—which has given both shows their great success.
Television fans say so, and so do Mark Goodson and Bill Todman, the creators of both shows.
Says Goodson:
“The real entertainment comes from watching people as themselves, placed in a format which creates a tension. It is the competition that exists between panel and the opponent. In turn, the viewers at home identify themselves with panelist and opponent in some fashion.”
Added fillip for “What’s My Line?” includes the weekly mystery celebrity, the good-natured John Daly, the sharpness of its veteran panelists in playing the guessing game.
These draw the publicity. But it is the show’s guests, ranging from lady plumbers and girdle manufacturers to a cow manicurist, a man who blows himself up with dynamite at county fairs, a girl who sells life insurance for chickens, an 11-year-old boy who writes a column of advice to parents—these are the people who intrigue outdoors and in the home, a its weekly loyal audience.
Incredible Confessions
Ask Chester Feldman, producer of "I've Got a Secret," the reason for the success of his show, and he says:
"I can tell you in two words—Garry Moore."
On that I'm sure the fans of Garry will partially agree. But again, it is people and their competition with panelists. The people who guest on the show make confessions as incredible as the occupations turned up on “What's My Line?”
They have included the 100-year-old man on his honeymoon . . . a Holstein cow that had quints . . . the girl who announced she was becoming Mrs. Tommy Manville (he reneged and she sued) . . . the man who squeezed a hard-boiled egg into a milk bottle by building a fire inside . . . Merle Oberon dressed like a fashion model in a $9.95 outfit.
Such are the stars of “I’ve Got a Secret” who guarantee the show an always-curious audience.
Tied with “Line” at 13 years of regular television exposure is Jack Benny. He wears as well on home screens as he did on radio for 18 years before the coming of test patterns. Many other radio personalities failed in the visual switch, but Benny walked into the electronic picture zone without altering either himself or his show.
As he says, “I had no show to alter. We’ve always been different every week.”
His long-established character of the fellow who hates to part with a dime, who won’t admit his right age, and who vocally delights in the blueness of his eyes was as tailor-made for television as radio.
“It is the character,” Benny says about his success. “Everyone knows someone like the fellow I play. The jokes aren’t that important, and we try to do everything in good taste.”
There are other keys to Benny’s success—letting others get laughs while he deadpans—others such as announcer Don Wilson, who has been with him for 29 years; Rochester, for 26 years, and Dennis Day, for 24 years. They know the Benny character as well as two of the show’s writers, Sam Perrin and George Balzer.

Canada's Glamorous Ghoul

She played opposite Clark Gable and a host of dramatic stars on the big screen for more than two decades. But you know her for being married to Herman Munster.

On this Canada Day, let’s look at the most famous role of one of Vancouver’s exports to Hollywood—Peggy Middleton. Or, as we all know her today, Yvonne De Carlo.

It is hard to believe The Munsters ran for only two seasons. Its ratings in the first season were so powerful that ABC moved The Flintstones out of the same time slot to give it a chance at renewal. But Herman, Lily et al died after one more year on CBS, and a for-fans-only movie called Munster, Go Home! However, the 70 episodes made were enough to offer it to stations in syndication, and it did a roaring business for years, especially in the after-school time slots.

De Carlo was known as a movie actress with sensuality, so perhaps that's why reporters focused on her wardrobe and make-up when she was cast as Lily Munster. She talked about it with the National Enterprise Association’s Hollywood writer in this story that appeared in newspapers starting June 18, 1964.

Yvonne DeCarlo To Be in New Fall Series as Spook
By EKSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD — Television fans who remember Yvonne de Carlo from her movie glamor girl days will be blinking this fall at the sight of gorgeous Yvonne as a spook in a fright wig. What's more — and for added eyebrow lifting — she says she's Miss Delighted about switching from girl to ghoul.
But this is to report that Yvonne herself is doing a bit of eye blinking about her vampire role as the wife of a Frankenstein-like monster in The Munsters, a new CBS-TV series.
The series is described—are you ready for this?—as "a domestic comedy featuring a family of loveable monsters."
The "loveable monsters" include Yvonne with floor-length wig; hubby Fred Gwynne who looks like the monster; their 8-year-old son, with pointed ears, and grandpa, who imagines he is Dracula.
The Munsters, we are to believe, are monsters in appearances only. Otherwise they are nice, normal people.
That's why even Yvonne is blinking. She has been blinking since she was briefed on her role by the show's creators, Bob Mosher and Joe Connelly.
"They told me," Yvonne reported, "that except for my apperance I should play the part as sweet as Donna Reed plays her TV character. Can you imagine that?"
Whether audiences can or will imagine all this about a family of spooks is the problem. Yvonne says she is not counting on anything.
"I think," she said, "that the first few shows will tell the story. It's either going to be a big hit, like the Beverly Hillbillies, or the season's biggest and quickest flop."
The Hillbillies, obviously, started a trend toward off-beat family comedy on television. And the sale to another network of TV rights to the famed Charles Addams cartoon characters cued "The Munsters."
As rival ghouls to ABC-TV's The Addams Family, The Munsters will have, says Yvonne, the legal protection of Revue Productions. Revue inherited from the old Universal studio TV rights to the images of the Frankenstein monster, Bela Lugosi's Dracula and the Wolf Man.
"And even the Wolf Man," Yvonne giggled, "turns up in the series as my ex-boy friend. Can you imagine that?"
As satire on old movie monsters as well as on contemporary TV domestic comedy. The Munsters will not be bothered, at least, by nice neighbors next door. "Our neighbors." Yvonne reported, "are scared to death of us."

De Carlo discussed make-up, and little else about the show, in a United Press International interview shortly after the start of the second season. We learn a bit more about her home life instead. This appeared in papers starting October 10, 1965.

"Mrs. Munster" Takes Two Hours for Makeup
By VERNON SCOTT
Hollywood (UPI) — Yvonne DeCarlo devotes two hours every morning acquiring a case of the uglies for her role as the funeral Lily of "The Munsters" series. In a reversal of the traditional actress attitude, Yvonne is pleased when she looks her worst for the cameras.
Even so, she is still beautiful to her family—husband Bob Morgan and sons Bruce, 8, and Michael, 7.
On a normal workday Yvonne leaves home every morning at 5:45 to allow the makeup artists the two hours it takes to apply greenish makeup, Theda Bara eyes and the weird hairdo fancied by Lily Munster. Another 45 minutes is devoted to removing the greasepaint at the end of the day.
By 7 p. m. Yvonne jumps into a new auto, which she is equipping with coffin-handle baggage rack, for the 15 minute drive up the hills from Universal studios to her home on the outskirts of Beverly Hills.
Home is a baronial house set on six and a half acres of Santa Monica mountaintop with four patios, a 60-foot-long free-form swimming pool (with 20-foot waterfall) and horse stables.
As Yvonne puts it, there are five bedrooms in use, not including a large guest apartment in what would be a basement in eastern homes. There's also a spacious rathskeller which holds Bob's desk and a piano for rehearsal accompaniment for Yvonne's night club act.
Upstairs Yvonne is gradually redecorating the house in which she has lived since 1950. She bought the place some five years before she met and married Morgan.
At the moment she is completing the living room, which is furnished in elegant dark walnut, offset by vinyl walls. The color scheme is pale green with touches of a avacado. Her bedroom has been redone in ivory and gold.
The Morgan family suffered a tragedy three years ago when Bob, a stunt man, was almost fatally injured filming of "How The West Was Won."
He was thrown beneath the wheels of a runaway train. Yvonne gave up all her activities to nurse her husband back to health. Morgan recovered after almost a year of hospitalization, during which one of his legs was amputated.
He now works as an actor and has returned to playing golf—shooting in the 70's. But the stables on their property are now empty.
A Mexican woman comes in twice a week to do the cleaning, and an aunt lives with the Morgans to look after the youngsters while mother and father are working. Yvonne, however, does most of the cooking. She says her New England boiled dinner and several Italian dishes are family favorites.
The Morgans entertain infrequently because of Yvonne's heavy workload. On weekends the family lazes around the swimming pool.
There is a station wagon for trips to the snow during the winter and for hiking and fishing in the Sierras in summertime. Bob drives a new sports car. Bruce and Michael romp around the acreage with a pair of apricot-colored standard poodles named Spunky and Igor.
When Yvonne has a long weekend she frequently moves into the Disneyland Hotel with her sons, spending the days at Walt Disney's magic kingdom and relaxing in the evening around the swimming pool.
"I try to spend as much time as possible with the boys when I get a breather from the show," she explains.
"It isn't necessary for me to appear in night clubs now that "The Munsters" is a hit. But I do make personal appearances once in a while to help plug the series."
Yvonne is almost unrecognizable without her Munster makeup, happily returning to her own glamorous appearance.
"I guess I lead a double life," she concludes. "And I must admit I'm happy with both."

De Carlo’s career after Lily took her to the stage across the U.S. She appeared on Broadway in the Tony-winning Follies. She also returned to a former place of employment in Vancouver in 1987 to mark the 60th anniversary of the Orpheum Theatre. It still stands. So do the hospital she was born in and the church she attended. One is a block south from where I am writing this post. The other is a block north.

De Carlo had a stroke in 1998 and died at the Motion Picture home at the age of 84 in 2007.

Signing Santa and Hopscotching Hope

Some seasonal satire came from the typewriter of entertainment columnist Erskine Johnson 60 Christmases ago.

Johnson (photo, right) “was known more for concentrating on humorous and anecdotal material in interviews,” as his obit in Variety put it. Perhaps that’s why he never had the fame/notoriety of show biz gossipers like Parsons and Winchell, despite wide circulation of his column and hosting shows on both radio and TV.

He had been a city editor of the Los Angeles Record when he went to work as an assistant to National Enterprise Association columnist Danny Thomas. He took over the column when Thomas left in the late ‘30s and retired about 30 years later. Johnson died in 1984.

Here are two of his holiday columns from December 1960. The first involves a familiar target of 1950s satirists, ad agencies, courtesy of Herb Sargent, the Steve Allen writer known years later for his work on Saturday Night Live. The second is an interview with Bob “Marilyn Maxwell’s Under the Mistletoe” Hope. Like any column about Hope, it’s full of old one-liners as Johnson ties it in to ol’ Ski Nose’s Christmas tour to cheer up the troops.

Jim Dandy Santa Claus Special Prepared by Sargent
By ERSKINE JOHNSON

HOLLYWOOD—(NEA)—Christmas comes but once a year, Herb Sargent was saying, "which means, to television programmers, that it is not a holiday, not a tradition, but a special event. TV loves special events."
Sargent is one of TV's best writers of specials—the last Bing Crosby outing, the next Pat Boone special—but the "special event" of Christmas, he was saying, is a problem "because the obvious star, Santa Claus, is usually unavailable due to a previous commitment that evening."
Were he available, however . . .
WELL, SARGENT THOUGHT, here's how it might be born. The time: April. (You can't start too early. Someone else might get the idea first.)
The place: Conference room. Seated around the conference table are a TV executive, a talent agent, a TV censor, a TV producer and an advertising agency man. Subject: Christmas special.
TV Exec: "Gentlemen this year we may be able to get Santa Claus. The real one."
Adman: "I don't know about Santa Claus. I have several clients for a Christmas special but they want something an audience can believe in. Like Arthur Godfrey."
Agent: "Listen, if you guys don't believe in my boy, what am I doing here?"
TV Exec: "Relax. We all believe in your boy. Now let's figure out who might buy him for: 90 minutes."
ADMAN: "YOU KNOW this limits me. Right away we have to knock out razor blades and electric shaver, unless he'll . . ."
Agent: "No, he WON'T."
Adman: "Okay. The sleigh eliminates the automobile people . . .”
Censor: "The sleigh reminds me. He can't whip those reindeer. You know the FCC and network feeling on violence."
Adman: "Does he smoke?"
Agent: "A pipe."
Adman: "There goes the cigarette account. And I suppose we're stuck with that coming-down-the-chimney routine."
Agent: "That's his act."
Producer: "Even if you do find him a sponsor, what kind of a show can we do? Everybody knows his routine. He won't work any other way. The red suit, the bag of presents, the reindeer, the Ho, ho, ho bit—that's a show?"
Censor: "I think those elves are in poor taste, anyway."
ADMAN: "FELLOWS. I don't know who'd buy him."
Agent: "What's going on? I thought we had a deal."
TV Exec: "Not without a show we don't."
Agent: " 'Person to Person' wants him. I thought I was doing you a favor by giving you first crack at him."
TV Exec: "We appreciate that, but as you can see we have problems. He's too familiar. There's no sponsor identification, no image."
Agent: "Oh, well. That's the business. Now how about a Jingle Bells ballet and the Vienna Boys' Choir . . .?"
Censor: "I don't know about Vienna .... the international situation."
Sargent was sure that's the way it would go.

Traveler Bob Plans Flight to Visit Armed Forces in the Caribbean
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
Newspaper Enterprise Association
Hollywood — One of Uncle Sam's big Air Force planes and that sleigh with its eight reindeer will be airborne about the same time again just before Christmas. Of course, riding that sleigh will be the familiar, pug-nosed, red-suited man. In the plane will be someone almost as familiar — ski-nosed Bob Hope.
In a way, Bob Hope and Santa Claus are in the same business. What Santa means to little children, Hope represents to our uniformed men and women stationed outside the United States.
The comedian celebrates his 20th anniversary as Roving Robert film star with the business card "Have Jokes—Will Travel," by making his ninth annual Christmas entertainment tour. This year his troupe will visit armed forces in the Caribbean.
He has been to the Caribbean before—in 1944—and he has been just about everywhere else during war and peace in 20 go-go years as the serviceman's best friend. He will be telling jet age jokes to lads whose fathers in the service in California in 1941 laughed it up with Hope nine months before Pearl Harbor.
The statistics of his Odysseys are staggering, a mass of dates and remote places around the world. His GI audiences of nearly 12 millions to date can well give “Thanks for the Memories,” Hope's theme music.
He has flown nearly two and a half million miles—10,000 hours aloft—from North Africa, Sicily and Italy in 1943. Alaska to Guadalcanal and Tarawa in 1944. Nice and Bremen and Nurnbere and Munich in 1945 to bloody Bayonet Bowl in Korea. He has given, nearly 2,500 individual shows.
His travels once cued one of his writers, Larry Klein, to tell him:
"You know, Bob, if you had your life to live all over again, you wouldn't have time to do it."

Between hot and cold theaters of war, he has been in and out of U. S. camps and hospitals like a man in a revolving door.
In 1943. Mr. Inexhaustible traveled 1,300 miles in 11 days to appear in 33 different places in England and went on three bombing raids in Algiers, Bizerte and Palermo.
"But I must admit I thought, ‘This is it. I've had it.’"
Yet he was still going strong when he beat the Marines by 20 minutes to the beach at Wonsan. I couldn't believe it until Maj. Gen. Edward M. Almond and newsmen met us at the airport. It was a bloodless invasion but we didn't know we were there AHEAD of time.
He was in time to catch jungle rot malady in Biak in 1944. 'It still comes out between my toes on hot humid days."
Bob did not go it alone The GIs have fond memories of Frances Langford and Jerry Colonna, Marilyn Maxwell and Jayne Mansfield and others who traveled with him. World War 2 was just the beginning for Bob. He hopped on the airlift to Berlin on a plane loaded with coal in 1948 for Christmas. His 1957 Christmas trip to the Far East covered 16,201 miles and 77 air hours. En route to Hawaii by plane, he put out a show via radio to the crew of a Coast Guard ship 20,000 feet below.
Men and women in uniform have memories about Hope's chatter:
"Last night I slept in the barracks. You know what barracks are—a crap game with a roof. What a place to meet professional gamblers. I won't say they were loaded, but it’s the first time I ever saw dice leave skid marks.
“A discharge—that’s a little piece of paper that changes a lieutenant's name from 'Sir' to ‘Stinky.’”
Bob Hope's gags are tailored to the problems, gripes of the servicemen overseas—“in Alaska, where guys wished they were in Africa and in Africa, where they wished they were in Alaska. In the South Pacific, where they knew a guy was island happy when he started to look at the men's fashion pages.”
"The greatest years of my life," Bob Hope says today, at 57, as he goes on looking for camps and hospitals he may have missed. "Wouldn't it be a kick to do a show on the moon?"
That wouldn't surprise his wife, Dolores, about whom he has quipped: "She's very sweet about my absences although I notice that the towels in our bathroom are marked Hers and Welcome Traveler."
Thanks for the memories, Bob.

How To Get To a Rooftop

All the stock company players on the first season of Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In had been kicking around for a while, but when I tuned for the first show, there was only one I recognised—Judy Carne.

Being an avid sitcom viewer at the age of 9, I had seen her in Love on a Rooftop, which co-starred Peter Deuel. About all I remember about it is Rich Little was in the cast and I was waiting each week for him to do his John Wayne impression, which finally happened in one of the later episodes. The fact that I don’t remember much more about it maybe explain why it lasted only a season (or maybe after 55 years I just forget stuff).

Carne did a pile of interviews at the time the show was on. Two of them are below, one from the Associated Press’ TV columnist from August 5, 1966, and the other from the West Coast entertainment reporter for the National Enterprise Association, who would never get away with the line “But you know how women are” today. It appeared in papers starting around January 15, 1967.

Being charged 10 cents for a phone call was probably one of the smallest problems in Carne’s life. Her marriage to Burt Reynolds wasn’t a pleasant one, she enjoyed drugs a little too much, and she never reached the heights of Laugh-In after leaving the show in somewhat of a huff. She died in 2015.

But let’s look back to when her career started taking off.

Judy Carne Gets Third Try At TV
By CYNTHIA LOWRY
AP TV-Radio Writer
HOLLYWOOD (AP) — There is a widely held belief among actors, undoubtedly fostered by budget-minded producers, that any regular employment in television, no matter how dismal the series, helps s fledgling career.
"Forget it," commanded Judy Carne, who encountered her leanest days after her two frail comedy barks foundered in network channels with all hands aboard.
Judy, who had replaced Julie Andrews in the London production of "The Boy Friend," was imported five years ago to play the young English girl in the ill-fated "Fair Exchange."

Then, a couple of seasons back, she had a part in "Baileys Of Balboa," another disappointment. Now she is a co-star in ABC's upcoming young-marrieds comedy, "Love On A Rooftop."
But it was not previous experience that won her a third chance, it was an elimination contest that started with 20 girls, among them Nancy Sinatra. And Judy worked hard, with a coach and a recorder, to eliminate her native British accents.
The elimination process for "Love On A Rooftop" was a real ordeal. After the 30 girls had been arbitrarily reduced to four, each girl was subjected to a "personality test." This involved sitting down in front of a camera to be interviewed by a director who had a bit of free time.
Ultimately she was told she would probably be the choice — but only for the pilot episode of an unsold program, maybe a week's work. Then came two months while they were testing for the boy who would play her husband — a difficult time when she could not take any acting jobs that would tie her up for more than a few days at a time.
This went on from September until they finally shot the pilot one week in December.
The series is built around the adventures of a young $85-a-week apprentice architect and his bride (Judy), an uninhibited art student. The aim of the show is to capture some of the kooky quality of, say, "You can't take it with you," which would be nice.
Judy, separated from husband Burt Reynolds (who is starring in New York in his own new ABC series, "Hawk") rides to work on her motorcycle and spends networking hours taking singing lessons and keeping up her dancing.

Outspoken Star Has Problem
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD (NEA) — Judy Carne ordered a steak "with a great big baked potato and lots of butter please." Then she talked about her weight problem. It is the fault, she said, of ABC-TV's "Love on a Rooftop" in which shes playing newlywed Julie Willis.
She started the series last summer at a nice, well-curved 112 pounds. The curves are still there but she's down to 103 pounds and . . .
"Just look at me," she said. "I've taken to wearing high necked sweaters because I have a very active face when I act and my veins show. You should feel my hip bones. They show too."
It's all because of the filming schedule, Judy says.
"I'm up at 5 a.m. and don't get home until 7 p.m. By then I'm too tired to eat so I just have a glass of hot milk and fall into bed."
Across from you at luncheon, red-haired, vivacious Judy doesn't look like a girl who should be worrying about her weight. But you know how women are. Nine pounds — up or down — is a crisis.

"The producer of the show even sent me to the studio hospital for some B12 shots. And you know what the studio sent ME the bill for them. I marched into the producer's office with that bill and said, 'Look, you ordered these shots.' It was a mistake and the shots were charged to the production."
Judy was nettled about the bill, she said, because of two regular deductions the studio makes from her paycheck as the star of "Love on a Rooftop."
And she frowned the news:
"You won't believe this — and I wish you would print it — but the studio (Screen Gems) charges me 10 cents for telephone calls and $4 a month for parking my car on the lot. I'd really be mad except I figure I'm lucky to be in such a good show. It's a lot of fun and so well written."
Judy is just as outspoken about other things, such as the personality test she took on her way to winning the TV series despite two previous series, "Fair Exchange" and "The Baileys of Balboa." The test was scriptless with Judy just being herself and answering questions asked off camera by a director.
"He asked me about my most embarrassing moment," Judy laughed, "and I told him, 'It's right now— this test. I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life'." That's our Judy.

The Squares' Master

Something didn’t seem right.

It was 1986. La Cage aux Folles was in performance at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver and the ads proclaimed the star of the show was Peter Marshall.

Peter Marshall? The Hollywood Squares Peter Marshall? What was he doing singing and dancing?

I suspect the first exposure many people had to Mr. Marshall’s talents was as the emcee of a game show and didn’t realise he had a whole career before that, including being part of a stand-up comedy team. The latter would come in handy on Hollywood Squares as he set-up gag answers from celebrities (in some cases via staff writers).

The show first aired on October 17, 1966 replacing a forgotten half-hour starring Joe Pyne called Showdown which had been on the air a whopping 3½ months. The Associated Press review the next day wasn’t all that favourable (read it to the right) but audiences liked the mix of the show and it’s been off and on the air a number of times over the decades.

Let’s pass along a couple of profiles of Mr. Marshall. The first appeared in papers around April 29, 1967, the second in Harvey Pack’s “TV Key” column of July 3, 1969. Casual viewers of the show may not have realised Paul Lynde was not a regular member of the cast at the beginning. “Mumbles” Dalton and Morey Amsterdam fell out as the series carried on, while Cliff Arquette died while still playing Charley Weaver.

Personality, Wit Mark Emcee
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD — At first glance NBC's Monday through Friday mid-morning celebrity game show, Hollywood Squares, looks like a retirement home for out of work TV series stars.
The permanent panelists are Morey Amsterdam, Wally Cox, Rose Marie, Abby Dalton and Cliff Arquette.
But look closer and you'll see the Who's Who of Hollywood guest-starring at one time or another to play the game — a TV adaptation of the familiar Tic Tac Toe — emceed by Peter Marshall. Four stars, In fact, appear in week-long guest stints along with the regular panelists.

One guest star has been known to upset many a TV show, but when they add up to NINE, well —
"Well, it may sound fantastic, but I've had trouble with only one guest since we started the show last October," says Marshall, who started big time show business life as Tommy Noonan's partner in a nightclub and TV variety show comedy-singing act. Marshall was the straight man who also sang.
The guest star with whom Marshall clashed on the show was a woman, and, he says, "she was unbelievable. She never stopped talking and she even tried to rewrite the questions I ask on which the whole game is based."
By contrast, Zsa Zsa Gabor is a dream, he reported. “She's been on the show 10 times and has never interrupted anyone.”
The need for a personality who could banter ad libs with the likes of Amsterdam & Friends was the reason Marshall landed the job after co-starring for a year on Broadway with Julie Harris In the hit musical "Skyscraper."
"I guess they figured I had been through the mill with Noonan because I knew nothing about the workings of a TV game show and I still don't know."
What Marshall does know is that Hollywood Squares is climbing in the popularity ratings and that he has never before enjoyed such personal recognition.
"For 15 years I've lived next door to the same neighbors who I guess never knew exactly what I did because now all of a sudden I'm a celebrity to them."
About Amsterdam, he has great praise. "He never knows what category the questions will be in, but if it's diamonds, for example, he has three jokes about diamonds even before I get to the questions."
About ex-partner Tommy Noonan, Marshall tells you:
"We're great friends. He's delightfully crazy. I appreciate his insanity — now."

Peter Marshall's Diverse Background Helps Him Emcee ‘Hollywood Squares’
By HARVEY PACK
NEW YORK—Peter Marshall, the hip guy who rides herd over the “Hollywood Squares,” NBC's popular daytime game show, was in New York recently to plug his new record album "For the Love of Pete." By his own admission Pete would go anywhere to put in a pitch for his singing career because as happy as he is picking up a weekly paycheck on "Hollywood Squares" he's put in too many years in this business to relegate himself voluntarily into the category of quiz show emcee.
"When I was first approached for the job on 'Squares' a lot of my friends advised against it claiming it would be the end of me as an actor But I kind of liked the format and since I do have a wife and four children I thought I'd give it a go."
Pete was picked because of his background as an actor and the experience has paid off for the show. Marshall's theatrical background goes back almost 20 years and includes such diverse activities as page boy at NBC, co-starring in a Broadway musical with Julie Harris and being part of a successful comedy team, Noonan and Marshall. "Now I'm asked to play straight man to nine performers five times a week and that not only calls for a lot of timing but even requires continuous change of pace. For example you can't throw a straight line to Wally Cox the same way you feed one to a comic like Jan Murray.

When “Hollywood Squares” first premiered all the guest stars had a ball and everybody around the production thought it was going over great. Everybody that is except host Peter Marshall who took time off from the golf course to watch the show on TV. "I noticed it had no pace." explained Pete, "and I blamed the whole* thing on me.
“I was giving the stars a chance to go off on tangents as they tried to be funny and often succeeded. But by not sticking to the basic game we were letting the thing get away from us and while we were enjoying it—it meant very little to viewers.”
Marshall spoke up and the producers listened. The game became the thing, stars were told to shorten up their anecdotes and gags and emcee Marshall kept the game going. The amount of questions asked doubled and the rating went up. The idea of selecting an emcee with theatrical experience paid off and "Hollywood Squares" became an NBC daytime staple.
"No matter who the guest is I don't let him run off with one of his answers," says Pete. "Except for Wally Cox. Wally must set his own pace and it generally works out funny."
Delighted with the security he has achieved with "Squares," Marshall has obviously not given up on other aspects of his career. In addition to the new record album, Peter is still shopping around for Broadway roles, will spend his summer vacation appearing in a play in Chicago and has written four screen plays.

Makin' Educational Whoopee

Kids watch TV for the same reason their parents do—to be entertained. They don’t watch it to be lectured to or educated.

But there were parents groups that felt it was television’s job to do that, and in the least low-brow way. Producers and programmers had to find the way to straddle that line—to make something kids wouldn’t turn off but gave them something other than Popeye punching out Bluto for the umpteenth time. Cy Plattes of General Mills found an answer.

Thus Tennessee Tuxedo and His Tales was born.

The story-lines driving the cartoons were similar. Tennessee would come up with a brainstorm and fail miserably to execute it. He and sidekick Chumley would then go to see Mr. Whoopee who demonstrated how to do it properly. Off went Tennessee who would make his idea work—but something else would go wrong to end the cartoon.

The “Whoopee” portion was the education aspect that critics loved because, well, because it was education. Kids liked it because the education was given by a cartoony voice (Larry Storch as Frank Morgan), and not some adult teacher talking down to them.

Here are two of a number of newspaper stories written about Tennessee. The first is from the King Features Syndicate of November 22, 1963, the other from the Newspaper Enterprise Association starting around February 8, 1964. Note that “TTV” does not stand for “Total Television,” at least not yet. It has a different meaning, no doubt to kiss up to networks and parent groups. Neither of them explain why Tennessee Tuxedo doesn’t have a Tennessee accent.

C.B.S. Airs Educational Cartoon
by HARVEY PACK
(TVKey Writer)
New York—Many of today's infants go from mother's milk to the T. V. tube and by the time they are ready to start their formal education television has done as much to prepare them for learning as their parents. This is an area where T. V.'s responsibility is not simply a matter of petty network jealousy or rating wars, but a vital part of our country's future.
Children, like adults, are attracted to mass audience programming and ambitious and praiseworthy projects like "Exploring" and "Discovery" are fine for F. C. C. hearings, but the youngsters prefer cartoons. As the prisoner said on his way to the electric chair: "Dis never would have happened if dey had held classes in saloons."

C. B. S. has apparently recognized the need for spoon-fed learning and has backed a fine cartoon show called "Tennessee Tuxedo and His Tales" on Saturdays at 9:30 A. M. I happened to catch it a few times with my youngsters and I found it a delightful combination of education and fun.
The main characters in this zoo-based cartoon are Tennessee, a cocky penguin; Chumley, an idiot walrus; and amusing but intelligent chap called Mr. Whoopee; an aptly named zoo-keeper, Stanley Livingston; and Flunkie, his assistant. Two of my favorite comics, Don Adams and Larry Storch provide the voices for Tennessee and Mr. Whoopee with top actors Kenny Delmar, Bradley Bolke and Mort Marshall rounding out the cast.
The program is financed by one of the big three cereal companies and was supposedly inspired by that wonderful child's habit of asking why about everything. Each week Tennessee and his friends escape from the zoo and venture into the outside world to solve a puzzling “why.” It ranges from “why does a telephone work” to “Why do things grow on the desert” and just about any subject is up for grabs on subsequent shows.
Produced by ex-advertising men who got tired of writing ads and simply earning a living, “Tennessee Tuxedo and His Tales” may be the TV answers for helping youngsters in the 4-10 age bracket get something out of the tube besides eye strain.
According to one of the partners in TTV (Teaching Television), they research each “why” in the Golden Book encyclopedia and, through the cereal sponsor, offer prizes to teachers who can suggest a good “why” for Tennessee to explain.
What makes this spoon-fed education palatable to the kids is that the educational portion is lively and animated rather than a cut out to film clips provided by the industry that is about to be discussed. Another attempt in this field has used industrial films for the education segment of the show and the result has been a sloppy, uninteresting presentation.
Walt Disney's high budgeted N.B.C. program is always at its best when it informs the youngsters while entertaining them, and it's a pleasure to report that this fine approach to education is now available for the small fry on a Saturday morning network program. I sincerely hope that "Tennessee Tuxedo" is a popular success and attracts hundreds of imitators. We need them.

Penguin Teachers Kids
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD (NEA)—Hey, Ma! I've got news for you. That "know-it-all" cartoon penguin named Tennessee Tuxedo on television every Saturday morning is helping educate your kiddies.
The kids don't realize they are being slipped the educational needle. And that's the big idea.
So keep mum, Ma, about reading that Tennessee Tuxedo is produced by a company named TTV, the initials meaning "Teaching Television," which the name of the penguin also means.
Early ratings of the new show indicate the kiddies are getting out of bed Saturday mornings and dialing TT, oblivious to the fact that it is a significant breakthrough in visual education.
As an example of programming in the public interest you can almost forgive the sponsor's message.
In case you are unaware of Tennessee Tuxedo, he's the sort who is always sticking his nose into other folks' affairs. As a result, he keeps finding himself in situations he cannot handle.
Mistaken for a famed architect, he is given the job of building a bridge. The bridge collapses. In the doing, Tuxedo and the junior viewer absorb a few basic tenets about the bridge-building art.
When Tuxedo is unable to repair an automobile the ensuing fun, graphically and with juvenile simplicity, explains the working of the internal combustion engine.
In similar vein, other plots lead TT into the fields of irrigation, firefighting, astronomy, telecommunication, farming, navigation, deep sea diving, etc. The idea for the show came from Cyril Plattes, a Minneapolis industrial public relations and marketing specialist who surveyed interest of junior age levels. He found “an unbelievable hunger” for information about the world junior lives in.
“So,” he says, “we decided to use the cartoon as a carrier for a good comedy show with an educational message.

Tennessee survived on Saturday mornings for three seasons before super heroes and fantasy shows started taking over the schedule, then moved into syndication.

If they were ever to revive the series today, producers would likely ignore Larry Storch and turn Mr. Whoopee into some kind of Siri/Alexa thing on a tablet and toss in some CGI effects. Maybe cartoons were more fun way back when.