Television Review: LOVE THAT BOB: "The Fallen Idol" (1956)

LOVE THAT BOB: "The Fallen Idol" (Original Air Date: March 8, 1956) Starring Bob Cummings as Bob Collins, Rosemary deCamp as Margaret MacDonald, Lyle Talbot as Paul Fonda, Dwayne Hickman as Chuck MacDonald, Ann B. Davis as Schultzy, Robert Ellis as Joe Depew, Sylvia Lewis as Sylvia, Elaine Edwards as Julie, Jeff Silver as Jimmy Lloyd.  Written by Paul Henning, Shirl Gordon and William Cowley.  Directed by Rod Amateau.



Series overview of LOVE THAT BOB a.k.a. THE BOB CUMMINGS SHOW at this link. 

When you're swanky, sophisticated man about town Bob Collins, you can sometimes be too sought-after for your own good.  Case in point: the arrival of two corsages tips Bob off that he's double-booked himself for dates with Julie and (unseen) Pamela for Friday the 9th.  Sister Margaret balks at Bob's initial back-up plan, which is to ease one of his dates over to Margaret's planned date for the evening--"that wolf" Paul Fonda.

An impossible choice between two beautiful models: all guys should have such troubles, eh?  But our ace photographer has more complicating factors: an early Saturday shoot with swimsuit model Sylvia, and nephew Chuck's promises to his friends that his "rough, tough fighter pilot" of an Uncle will help them build a model plane for a contest.  When busy Bob can't do it, they become fonder of Fonda, and Bob becomes the titular fallen idol inside his home.  Outside it too, once Julie realizes she isn't the playboy shutterbug's only girl.

Don't listen to him, Baby!

From the still-formative second season of THE BOB CUMMINGS SHOW, The Fallen Idol provides many notable contrasts with the wilder and faster-paced 1957-59 episodes which are more readily available on DVD today.  For starters, older sister Margaret is much more tolerating of Bob's playboy ways than she would become.  She's much gentler in her attempts to awaken him after a night of carousing, and doesn't even assist her son and his pals as they beseech Air Force Colonel Collins for help with their project. 

Amazingly, Margaret even shrugs off Bob's blatantly stated attempt to pull a switcheroo that would jeopardize her Friday night date with his old war buddy Paul Fonda, and only mildly protests her brother's (hypocritical, no?) characterization of Fonda as a wolf.  Margaret's objections would accrue an edge in segments to come (notably in Bob Plays Margaret's Game), but her only protest here is a weak sabotage of the lines thrown out by the real Wolf of Mulholland during his telephone calls to the ladies he is juggling.

With Chuck still a high school junior, he isn't yet trying to horn in on his popular Uncle's Friday night action.  Young MacDonald is far too awed by "Uncle Bob" to even think about it, hyping his WW2 achievements to buddies Joe Depew (named, of course for the show's assistant director who would go on to helm nearly 150 BEVERLY HILLBILLIES episodes for Henning) and Jimmy Lloyd.  The lads are far more interested in building a model plane on Friday night (for a contest, to be fair) than chasing girls at this stage, so Margaret isn't nearly as concerned about Uncle Bob's bad influence as she would become barely a year later (Bob Gets Out-Uncled).  Chuck is genuinely crushed when Bob's double dating duty renders him AWOL when it is time to construct their entry.

Paul Fonda--our new hero?

Not that you won't recognize THE BOB CUMMINGS SHOW at this early stage; helmed capably by Rod Amateau, it is already one of the few truly subversive shows of its era.  Bob Collins keeps both dates, with his nocturnal activities not only affecting his home life (he skips out on Margaret's pleas to assist with carport planning in addition to stiffing the nephew who idolizes him) but also his job, since he is late for his Saturday shoot.  Once he's there, even the stunning Sylvia can't keep him awake.

Must have been one Hell of a Friday night!

It was, Hal, it was!!

But does Uncle Bob pay for his transgressions?  Negatory.  All he needs is a Saturday afternoon nap, and he's ready to correct the well-meaning Paul Fonda's mistakes on the inanimate model and his own on the human model--Julie, at least.  (We never follow up with "pudgy" Patricia the day after.)  By the end of the episode, the "fallen idol" has risen again.  Chuck is rewarded for his loyalty and has saved face with his friends: both are completely won over by finally witnessing Colonel Collins' expertise.  His newfound standing is only enhanced when the fellows meet Julie, the reason Bob couldn't help them the night before.

Reason enough, guys?

Later installments like Colonel Goldbrick hinted at the following decade's youth revolution, but Bob Collins is still the cat's meow in The Fallen Idol.   Paul Fonda is quickly supplanted by episode's end, and the high schoolers drool over Uncle Bob's date for the evening, but defer to their new hero and get lost when Julie shows up.  Julie, meanwhile, is impressed by Bob's "dedication to his family" after a chance to think it over.  So the redemption is somewhat genuine, but still, for a 1950's TV show, Bob Collins was getting away with a lot of transgressions against society norms without much comeuppance, even at this early stage for the show.   With he and Julie presumably headed up to Mulholland (she likes the sweaty, greasy mechanic look) Bob may well be looking like this again on Sunday morning:

Sylvia Lewis later choreographed sitcoms into the late 1980's (MARRIED...WITH CHILDREN) and would figure prominently in this episode's semi-sequel, The Wolf Who Came to Dinner.  Elaine Edwards is best known for horror films of the era, most notably THE CURSE OF THE FACELESS MAN and THE BAT.

WHO WAS BLOCKING?

No one, really, which would be all but unheard of in later segments.  Margaret's feeble effort and Paul Fonda's disinterest in stopping Colonel Collins are both eyebrow raisers, and even Schultzy doesn't try to interfere with Bob's nocturnal activities for once.  The super-assistant is even benign about doing all the work on a Saturday.  Yep, for once Bob is actually penetrating the blockers' version of a prevent defense.

DID BOB SCORE?

We don't hear much about his Thursday date with Shirley Swanson (unseen this time, unfortunately), and there are mixed signals concerning Friday night.  True, Bob is dead to the world at 10 AM and stays that way, but despite this promising sign, he did end up in his own bed and Julie is mad at him.  He is also inexplicably too tired to try to make personal time with Sylvia during their shoot.  It does appear, though, that the fallen idol is literally rising again at episode's end:

While The Fallen Idol milks the gags about Bob's morning-after lifelessness a little too much and Collins' path to redemption seems a little too easy, it's a typically amusing, if average entry.  Emmy-nominated Rod Amateau laid the foundation for Cummings' more hyper, crazy directorial style to follow, and Amateau would subsequently turn that up a notch further with his own wild work on over 100 episodes of DOBIE GILLIS.  If The Fallen Idol is indicative of this show's "B" game, well, LOVE THAT BOB's B game is still pretty damn funny.  (**1/2 out of four)

The Fallen Idol is available for viewing on YouTube, titled as "My Uncle Bob".
It is also available on DVD under that title at Shokus Home Video.

MAVERICK Mondays: "Prey of the Cat" (1958)

MAVERICK Mondays: Number 20









MAVERICK: "Prey of the Cat" (1958 ABC/Warner Brothers TV) Starring Jack Kelly as Bart Maverick, Wayne Morris as Pete Stillman, Patricia Barry as Kitty Stillman, Barry Kelley as the Sheriff, Yvette Duguay as Raquel Morales, William Gordon as Fred Bender, William Bryant as Chase.  Written and Directed by Douglas Heyes.

After making the acquaintance of jovial cattleman Pete Stillman on a cold, windy night in Woodstone, Bart suffers a broken right leg when his horse is spooked by a mountain lion.  Since Maverick faces several weeks' healing before he can ride again, Pete insists that the stranger convalesce at his Star Trail Ranch.

During his extended recuperation (which includes the Christmas holiday), Bart learns that Pete's wife Kitty is a Chicago transplant who isn't especially happy with Star Trail or her marriage.  When he realizes that Mrs. Stillman has designs on him, Bart resolves to leave as quickly as possible--but he meets resistance from the unsuspecting Pete.  Mr. Stillman insists that Maverick come along and help hunt for the mountain lion that has been menacing his cows since Bart's accident.  It's a hunt that proves fatal for the rancher, and the gambling newcomer is an easy target for blame by the suspicious Sheriff.  Then Bart learns that it was a bullet fired by Kitty that killed Pete--and her shot was intentional.

Douglas Heyes wrote and directed a noir-ish segment for each Maverick brother during the highly acclaimed second season.  Garner's was Escape to Tampico, in which Bret also makes a sympathetic but doomed new friend.  While Escape to Tampico is much more of a "straight" western than the typical Garner outing, it's positively light-hearted compared to what Heyes had in store for Jack Kelly.  Prey of the Cat is the grimmest MAVERICK episode, bar none, with a situation going completely against Roy Huggins' oft-stated guideline for the show: it is deadly serious in addition to being as hopeless as usual.

The opening scene induces a few smiles, as Bart tricks ranch foreman Bender out of a chair next to the wood stove.  Your jaw will stay tightened after that: Prey of the Cat turns as cold as the temperature on that windy night.  It's a story with three tragic figures all ruined by unrequited love: the Stillmans and Raquel ("Rachel", Pete teases) form the real triangle in Woodstone. 

All three love someone who doesn't reciprocate the feeling, but only Pete Stillman is doing so unknowingly.  The rancher chose the fair-skinned lady from Chicago over the Hispanic woman who truly loves him: the end result for Pete was a wife who accepted his proposal despite indifference to him and his ranch.  Kitty is calculating--note how quickly she does math in her head--but she's just as delusional about Bart's feelings for her as she was about her own feelings for Pete.  Mrs. Stillman "can never truly love something" unless she "makes it her own". 

Raquel is also hiding her true feelings: she's devastated to have lost the man she has always loved to an outsider.  We see hints that Pete--despite his public proclaimation that Kitty is his "smartest choice" ever--might subconsciously regret the marriage.  Note the contrast between the humorless, awkward dialogue between Mr. and Mrs. Stillman and the effortless rapport Pete still has with Raquel in what seems like daily banter.  Raquel asks him why he isn't "home with his wife" in the opening scene, and it's a good question: it's a freezing night outside, yet Mr. Stillman is in front of a wood stove in town with his bunkhouse workers and his ex. 

Loyal, generous, fair and good-natured, Pete Stillman's misjudgment of Kitty's interest level is his fatal flaw.  He's allowed her to slowly take over the ranch in all but name in an effort to keep her happy, and everyone thinks he's succeeded.  Caught in the middle, innocent Bart Maverick almost becomes a fourth tragic casualty in Prey of the Cat, with the Sheriff joining all of Pete's loyal employees who blame the outsider for their boss' death.

Patricia Barry (Two Beggars on Horseback) is up to the challenge of playing what has to be the most disturbing and unhinged female in the series' run.  Kitty is stunningly beautiful (and aware of it) and highly intelligent, yet bitter about giving up Chicago for this impressive but remote town with a man she doesn't truly love.  Her attraction to Maverick reveals that she has bad boy syndrome--Pete is simply too nice a guy for Kitty.  Bart Maverick, a self-described "drifter and gambler", excites Kitty, and the "edgy" outsider gets her--she thinks.  Kitty shows increasing psychosis triggered by Bart's rejection but she remains sane enough to use the situation to ensnare him.

In short, Kitty is one scary lady.  Only poor Maverick has seen the unmasked Mrs. Stillman: she has the entire town snowed ("No two people were ever as good together as those two!" the Sheriff asserts.) to the point that the lawmen and other seemingly civilized people like Bender and Chase are turned into a bloodthirsty lynch mob as a result of her machinations.

Somewhat surprisingly, Prey of the Cat is not a script recycled from a more conventional WB series.  Despite the lack of levity, Heyes wrote it specifically for MAVERICK, and avoids some of the errors made by others who attempted "straighter" installments.  Epitaph for a Gambler (for example) had Bart Maverick doing way too many things that were out of character to engross the show's audience: Heyes' script, while unrelentingly solemn, is sermon-free and faithful to the Bart we've come to know.  The writer-director was only one of the many top-notch creative minds (Huggins, Hargrove, Hughes) sorely missed after that landmark 1958-59 season.

Wayne Morris was fated for an early demise less than a year after Prey of the Cat aired.  The World War II hero and rising Warner Brothers star of the pre-War years was as busy as ever (nine credits during 1959 alone) when he died suddenly of a heart attack on September 14, 1959.  He was only 45.  Heyes usually cast fellow writer William D. Gordon as an actor in his MAVERICK and TWILIGHT ZONE projects, and Gordon makes a solid impression as the ranch's loyal but guarded right-hand man.  The episode also marked one of the last acting roles for stunning Fifties starlet Yvette Duguay, who was 28 when she retired from the screen in 1960.

 
HOW'D BART DO AT POKER?

Despite all those ranch hands at the bunkhouse and all that time convalescing, Bart finds no time for real poker.  He relieves his boredom by teaching Mrs. Stillman a few basics of the game while staying off his broken leg, almost losing a lot more than just valuable table hours through no fault of his own.

WISDOM FROM PAPPY?

Only the revelation that Bart made him two promises: he'd never hold a drink or a steady job.  Stillman tries mightily to keep Bart around for the latter after he heals, so one of Pappy's proverbs heard that we hear two seasons later (in The Ice Man) applies here: "Never impose too long on a man's hospitality.  He's liable to put you to work."


THE BOTTOM LINE:

It is understandable that this unapologetic melodrama is disappointing to many fans and is considered a rare second season dud by some, but I think that assessment is off the mark.  Prey of the Cat isn't what one expects from MAVERICK by any stretch, but it is intriguingly acted, directed and written--a successful stab at much sterner subject matter than the series was usually mining by this time.  Pretty courageous of Heyes to put this blatantly dour effort on Huggins' desk, if you ask me--and the show's creator didn't reject it, did he?  (*** out of four) 

MAVERICK currently airs Saturdays at 4 PM Eastern, 3 PM Central and Sundays at 4 AM Eastern, 3 AM Central on Cozi-TV. 

Television Review: HONDO: "Hondo and the Apache Kid" (1967)

"Your lives are meaningless compared to HONDO!"






HONDO: "Hondo and the Apache Kid"  (1967 ABC-TV/MGM/Batjac Productions) Episode 6; Original Air Date: October 13, 1967.  Starring Ralph Taeger as Hondo Lane, Noah Beery Jr. as Buffalo Baker, Kathie Browne as Angie Dow, Gary Clarke as Captain Richards, Michael Pate as Chief Vittoro, Buddy Foster as Johnny Dow, William Bryant as Colonel Crook.  Guest Stars Nick Adams as The Apache Kid, Farley Granger as Jack Graham, Danielle Rotar as Star Bird, Sofia Marie as Emmy Jo, Stan Barrett as Running Wolf, James Beck as Highton.  Written by Frank L. Moss.  Directed by William Witney.


Series Overview for HONDO: TV's Unlikeliest Cult Hit at this link  

Ace Civil War and Ohio Flood journalist Jack Graham is brought to Arizona territory by his latest cause celebre: the "persecution" of The Apache Kid, childhood friend of Hondo's turned renegade who is wanted for murder (among other crimes).  Graham's articles have already resulted in pressure on Richards to capture the Kid alive.  After Lane is instrumental in doing so, the famed reporter excoriates Hondo in print as a "Judas", putting the scout and all of Fort Lowell under intense scrutiny from coast to coast--and particularly from Washington D.C.

With Graham's unwitting (and unknowing) aid, the Apache Kid soon breaks out of the guardhouse to start a fresh crime spree.  After killing his sentry, the renegade Kid (who is even less welcome on his tribe's land) slays Star Bird's father, kidnapping the bride-to-be and sending her fiancé Running Wolf in pursuit.  With faithful Sam at his side, Hondo gamely tries to track down the escaped prisoner and his badly abused hostage.  Hot on the trail of both is Graham, brandishing a telegraph guaranteeing his "heroic" subject a top attorney.

Like the previous segment, Hondo and the Apache Kid gives us a clueless outsider to the Arizona territory with impressive credentials in his field, but a thoroughly wrongheaded superiority complex.  Jack Graham is hailed as the champion of Pennsylvania coal miners and New England mill workers, but he's out of his element in the southwestern desert--he first "saw an Indian" just three months earlier.

Witnessing the unjust execution of that falsely accused Native American in Texas inspired his current crusade, but unfortunately, Graham's chosen representative is as unworthy a poster boy as he could find: a kidnapper, thief, rapist and murderer.  Hondo gets a terse (ten seconds, tops) soapbox moment, telling the reporter that he's wasting his help on a sociopath hated by his own people that could be used by the numerous Natives who have been wronged and cheated: Delgado (Hondo and the Singing Wire) and especially Ponce Colorados (Hondo and the Savage) come to mind.

Moss avoids some of the pitfalls that befell Frank Chase in that latter teleplay.  Obnoxious Graham threatens to wear out his welcome, but fortunately Moss gives him to us in smaller doses: Graham disappears completely during the episode's middle third while the audience witnesses the treachery that the scribe is oblivious to.  The three Apaches who end up unjustly executed here are all murdered by The Kid, whose every action justifies the jailing (not solitary confinement as embellished by Graham).  An equal opportunity criminal, Moss' Apache Kid also slays a farmer (while raiding the man's home for food) in addition to the aforementioned trooper.

Tarantino favorite William Witney keeps this one moving, staging a badass reveal for Adams and an exciting apprehension of him in the teaser alone.  The director fades in on the collateral damage of the trackdown and doesn't disappoint during the cat and mouse game between Hondo and the Kid.  Lane's frustration at every near miss is palpable as time ticks away for the fugitive's captive--carnal desires after three weeks in the guardhouse are the least of her worries.

Danielle Rotar

One drawback with Hondo and the Apache Kid is the limited depiction of its titular antagonist.  Captain Richards' early assessment of him as just a "bad Indian, that's all" gets some elaboration from Buffalo: the Apache Kid was "like a brother" to Hondo, and the two were trained as Indian scouts by Al Sieber before The Kid broke bad.  It takes a leap of faith to believe that this illiterate, almost mute (he has three words of dialogue, total) Apache Kid could have ever been all that.  There is some historical accuracy in The Kid's presentation here, though the real Apache Kid would have been about ten years old during HONDO's 1870 setting.  The Napoleon complex that Hondo broaches ("Runt of the litter" elicits one of those three words: "Lies!" from the Kid) fits the casting of Nick Adams.

If the Kid's feral manner requires one suspension of disbelief, Adams diminutive stature makes another necessary, particularly in fistfights with Taeger, who is eight inches taller and about 50 pounds heavier.  Fortunately, Adams' trademark intensity helps a great deal towards that end.  The star of Fenady's THE REBEL some six years earlier, Adams is consistently ferocious and elusive.  His Kid also shows a remarkable gift for infiltration time and time again, which helps make it plausible that he learned alongside Lane--"part panther, part Apache" himself--once upon a time.

Jack Graham may seem just as one-note on the surface, but on closer inspection he's broken bad himself.  It's clear from his reputation and past triumphs that he started out as a true champion of underdogs before losing his way.  He states he's there to see that the Kid is treated fairly, but his actions tell us that journalistic objectivity has long fallen by the wayside: Graham is addicted to the power his pen gives him.  Charles Foster Kane's belief that people will think "what I tell them to think" comes to mind.  Any information that contradicts the narrative he's constructing is dismissed as a lie--Graham simply cannot be dissuaded from making his latest "discovery" into a larger than life hero (the Kid appears as tall as the mountains on the newspaper's front page).

After Graham's close call (yes, his muse turns on him), does he seek out any of the numerous Native Americans that (as Lane stated) could "use his help"?  No, the writer only knows one way to apologize, and it's a self serving one--he attempts to make Lane into his next sensationalized hero (after trashing the scout's reputation for weeks).  Of course, the prospect of Graham "repaying his debt" by making Hondo the next protagonist of his "dime novel garbage" gets the reaction you'd expect.  After an hour with this blowhard, it is a satisfying thing to see.

Chief Vittoro adds gravitas as always, another improvement over the prior segment.  The Apache's leader is with Hondo in spirit but unable to assist him since the scout's task involves taking the Kid to "white man's justice".  The Chief would prefer to do away with the murderer the Apache way, and turned out to be right in this instance, since a sequel (Hondo and the Apache Trail) was needed.

HOW MANY CANS OF WHOOPASS?

That pictured punch in the tag aside, Emberato's temper has improved ever since the closure provided in Hondo and the Superstition Massacre.  The inevitable final confrontation with the Kid is Hondo's only other one on one scuffle (the Kid is swarmed in his initial capture) and the scout ends finally ends it with a right cross after the villain's rifle ammunition runs out. 

IS THE CANTINA STILL STANDING?

Proof of just how formidable an adversary we are dealing with: Hondo and Buffalo never get a chance to set foot in their favorite watering hole--a first for the series.

A DOG'S LIFE:

Sam helps with the tracking for two-thirds of Hondo and the Apache Kid, but he spends the final act as a therapy dog for the newly orphaned Emmy Jo.

GUEST CAST NOTES:

Striking Diane Rotar (credited as Danielle), nineteen at the time, was already known as Jennifer Somers on THE VIRGINIAN.  Long-time stunt coordinator Stan Barrett had his first acting credits on HONDO, appearing in three episodes in all.  He too gets to duke it out with The Kid--can't that guy get along with anyone?

THE BOTTOM LINE:

An interesting examination on misuse of the power of the press, Hondo and the Apache Kid also manages to be an exciting chase tale.  In what would end up being one of his final performances, an intense Nick Adams makes a lot out of very little dialogue.  The physical mismatch between the antagonists hurts some, and the script asks for more from Sofia Marie than she can give in a key scene.  More satisfying than not overall, though.  The Kid's return (Hondo and the Apache Trail) is free of the overbearing reporter and the child actors, and is a better overall effort as a result.  (**1/2 out of four)

HONDO airs every Saturday afternoon at 3:30 PM Central on GetTV. Effective July 3rd, 2016, HONDO changes time slots, to Sunday mornings at 6 A.M. Central on GetTV.

F TROOP Fridays: TV GUIDE, May 27-June 2, 1967

The second of our trilogy of F Troop TV Guide Covers.  If you like vintage TV Guide reviews, It's About TV has a new one each Saturday, and you'll find one periodically at Retrospace also.


When F Troop made the cover of TV Guide for the first time on December 11-17, 1965, the show was riding high.  Three months into the 1965-66 season, it was ABC's biggest new hit despite a difficult time slot, giving top-billed Forrest Tucker his signature television role.

The show was front and center on TV Guide a second time during summer reruns eight months later, with Tuck's co-star Larry Storch being the subject of the feature article for the August 13-19, 1966 issue.  (Yes, I will be profiling that one, too, when we get to its 50th Anniversary later this summer.)  The ratings stayed steady through a transition to color and a new night and time in 1966-67, and the Fort Courage foul-ups made TV Guide's cover a third time, 49 years ago this week:

Unfortunately, this feature story was a bittersweet one for the show's fans.  Despite solid ratings in its sophomore season, studio politics and a pending merger with Seven Arts at Warner Brothers ended F TROOP after 65 episodes and two seasons.   

The feature article accompanying F Troop's third and final TV Guide cover is a heartfelt tribute to "one of the funniest ideas to have hit television in years" by frequent TV Guide contributor Ronald Searle.  Of course, the British satirist and artist did the illustration of Berry, Tucker and Storch you see above, along with three more Searle classics that accompanied the three page article (see the next two pictures below).

Searle drolly calls F Troop a "virtual on-the-spot portrait of frontier life as it was lived in everyday terms" and describes meeting (well, maybe) Wild Eagle himself--coming away with an autographed souvenir scalp.  Not as much information on the show as the previous cover stories on Tucker and Storch (save for de Kova's claim to have done "the only Shakespearean Indian role in the business") but Searle's wonderful tribute is still a must-read if you're an F Troop fan.  The long-time (1965-1990) contributor to the best-known television weekly on this side of the pond clearly would have welcomed a third season as much as anyone.  Searle wasn't alone: like its spiritual predecessor The Phil Silvers Show, F Troop quickly gained a significant following in the U.K., re-running continuously on ITV from 1968 to 1974.)

In the same issue that British freelancer Searle pays tribute to an American television classic, U.S. correspondent Robert Musel is far less kind to British TV.  Musel's It Isn't Just Cricket! goes so far as to say that British TV needs a "healthy counterblast" to such pieces as the BBC's examination via 24 Hours: "How Corrupt is America?"  Musel's piece is as serious as Searle's is humorous; his list of grievances can be summed up by his early statement that "the picture of life in America conjured up by the average Briton by what he sees on his screen is more caricature than portrait".  It would be interesting to see the news programs cited; maybe if Musel had been watching The Avengers, The Saint or The Prisoner instead of gotcha journalism (nothing new under the sun, eh?) he would have found more to like.

Should have been available to him, since New York-born Musel was a UPI journalist based in London for many years.  Musel wasn't a writer to be easily dismissed: his career dated back to the Lindbergh kidnapping case.  A songwriter ("Band of Gold") as well, he died in 1999 at age 90.

It's apparently an issue of the recently cancelled, as Robert Loggia of T.H.E. Cat is the subject of the two page article that follows.  Loggia's show lasted a single season, perishing opposite the CBS Friday Night Movies and failing to make the year's top 70. (It had ranked # 68 out of 91 shows at midseason.) Cut-Ups examines Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat's fencing talents, with the background on Loggia's abilities (he learned at the same time he was studying acting under Stella Adler) and offering a little credit to Loggia's double, stunt coordinator Paul Baxley.

Next up is an article that yours truly has a complaint with.  Diahann Carroll up next for four pages, and we get one picture.

Three pics of Mr. Loggia and one of Ms. Carroll?  I have a lot of respect for both performers, but come on, we all know who's easier on the eyes!  Jeez....

The issue of race looms large throughout Edith Efron's profile, with the article's era is given away in the third paragraph: "she is a Negro first and Diahann Carroll second".  By 1967 she was already a thirteen year show business veteran with a Tony award (for 1962's No Strings) and was just a season away from becoming one of TV's most popular stars in NBC's Julia.  Carroll's first marriage to Monte Kay is covered; she declines to discuss the affair with Sidney Poitier that (in part) ended it.  A half century later, the Television Academy Hall of Fame inductee (2011) is still going strong at 81.

Before I continue, I'd rather not make the same mistake they made in this issue.  Here's a second pic of Diahann Carroll in 1967:

Next up, Melvin Durslag's How to Elbow Your Way into Television is about the latest jock-turned-broadcaster, recently retired Dodger great Sandy Koufax, whose career came to an abrupt end after the 1966 season due to elbow problems.  Koufax was signed to a ten year contract by NBC.  While announcing didn't come naturally to the Hall of Fame pitcher, he did end up staying on until 1973.

The next article is a nice read for us Dobie Gillis fans. It's written by Zelda Gilroy herself, Sheila James.  The First Minute Hurts details her adventures in auditioning for commercials, with one breakfast ad and a ubiquitous bowl of mush getting the bulk of the attention.  James was 26 and had been a regular on The Stu Erwin Show and (just two seasons earlier) Broadside in addition to her four year run as Zelda, but her acting career was winding down.  She had guest starred on a January episode of The Beverly Hillbillies (Paul Henning had hired her multiple times for that series and Love That Bob) but only has a half dozen TV credits to her name since, the last being the 1988 reunion Bring Me The Head of Dobie Gillis.
 

James with Hickman on a May 1962 cover

Taking a brief jab at Governor Reagan in her article, James (now known as Sheila James Kuehl) hinted at her future career (and party).  She attained her law degree at Harvard in 1978 and went into politics in 1994, serving six years in the California State Assembly and eight more in the state Senate.  At 75, the Tulsa, Oklahoma native is still at it, in her first term as a member of the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors.  Two decades apiece in acting, law and politics; like her co-star Dwayne Hickman, she's led many lives.
 

Stephen Strimpnell of Mr. Terrific is the subject of the final article, giving this issue three recently cancelled article subjects, including the season's two highest-rated shows to be cancelled.  Mr. Terrific ranked 36th at season's end, (F Troop was 40th), improving on the show it replaced, Run, Buddy, Run (# 62 with a 27 share).  The season-ending numbers don't tell the whole story: Mr. Terrific was a midseason replacement with only 13 episodes aired, and the premiere ranking # 13 for the week.  It fell out of the top 50 completely by its third segment, never to return, so the high initial rating was considered a fluke by CBS.

Strimpnell originally auditioned for the "cross-town rival", NBC's Captain Nice.  That role was won by William Daniels, but Strimpnell had the last laugh in the ratings.  Well, sort of--both shows lasted only half a season.  Despite the demise of Mr. Terrific, Strimpnell has few complaints: the young (27) actor is living his dream.  A former teacher at Uta Hagen's H.B. Studio and a graduate of Columbia Law School, Strimpnell finds his current situation "amazing and wonderful, gratifying to the senses".

Dwight Whitney's profile of "the child prodigy who grew up to be Mr. Terrific", also gives stunt double Chuck Courtney a little recognition and director Arthur Lubin is also quoted.  While Strimpnell would stay active in the business for the next two decades (including roles in ALL THAT JAZZ and FITZWILLY), Mr. Terrific would remain his best remembered role by far.  He died in 2006.

Moving to the listings, it's summer rerun time, but we still see the premiere of a legendary cult classic with a production history that might be even more interesting than the show itself.  Coronet Blue premiered on Monday, May 29, 1967.  As the Close-Up above notes, Coronet Blue was originally intended for the 1965-66 season, but CBS shelved it, deciding to burn off 11 of the 13 episodes produced two years later.  Surprisingly, the show caught on despite airing opposite Run For Your Life and The Big Valley.   By the summer of '67, continuing it was not an option: star Frank Converse already had a new series, N.Y.P.D. on ABC for the upcoming 1967-68 season.  (It was a modest success; co-starring the great Jack Warden, it lasted until 1969.)

While Converse didn't get a chance to reprise the role of Michael Alden--or at least, hasn't to date--he did have the cult favorite Movin' On in his future as well.  Paul Bogart directed the series premiere.  A detailed history of the series and its long, strange journey to the airwaves can be found at the always fascinating Television Obscurities blog.

On Friday night, the upcoming fifth installment of the James Bond franchise (YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE) warrants a special on NBC, pre-empting The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Other listings tidbits:

Joanne Dru

Joanne Dru is one of the Hollywood Squares this week; her brother Peter Marshall is the host, of course.  Other Squares: Marty Allen, Steve Rossi, Vincent Price, Eva Gabor and Michael Landon;

Crooner Julius La Rosa (from the various Arthur Godfrey shows, at least until his "swan song" in October 1953) alongside country comics Homer and Jethro on Friday's Mike Douglas Show; La Rosa actually is in for the entire week.  His public firing by Godfrey was still mentioned in the headlines of his obituaries after his passing on May 12, overshadowing several major hits including Eh, Cumpari and Anywhere I Wander.  R.I.P.

What of F Troop itself?  Forrest Tucker gets his chance to shine in a dual role, playing both Sergeant O'Rourke and father Angus in Did Your Father Come From Ireland? Thursday night at 8 PM. 

In the "Letters" section, the May 6 John Banner article brought a thumbs-down from a reader.  Yes, controversy over Hogan's Heroes was nothing new even then.   One reason you might find the letter interesting--it's written by a very familiar name:

Allan S. Manings was married to Whitney Blake (Hazel) and the two of them co-created One Day At a Time in 1975.  In the more immediate future, he was months away from a long run writing for Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In.  Manings (1924-2010) won an Emmy for the latter; he also produced Good Times from 1975-1977.

Yes, I did these out of order, but the in-between issue is still coming up in August, when we will visit the world of the legendary Larry Storch.  Until then, It's About TV can satisfy your TV Guide fix on a weekly basis, taking an in-depth look at a vintage issue every Saturday.