Broadcasting Telecasting (Oct-Dec 1954)

IN REVIEW Si CAPITAL FILM LABS, INC. Formerly McGeary -Smith 1905 Fairview Ave., N.E., Washington 2, D.C. THE GEORGE GOBEL SHOW GEORGE GOBEL, that exponent of the "Chicago School" in the fine art of grabbing and holding a video audience, is undeniably a success. Already, there are a number of Hollywood columnists fighting for the distinction of having "discovered" him. Perhaps a keen wit, an expert sense of timing and an extremely funny and deceptively casual delivery might have something to do with Mr. Gobel's success — all these and fine writing too. Someone once expounded that comedy is most effective when the even course of events is suddenly, unexpectedly and ludicrously upset— i.e., when the dignified gentleman slips on a banana peel. Mr. Gobel manages to insert a high quotient of banana peels in his show, upsetting some of television's most sacred cows. For instance, introductory credits have such following footnotes as "... A Colgate Man," "... A Man's Man." and ". . . Who Collects Butterflies." On his first program, Mr. Gobel insisted that since Fred MacMurray was a guest, he must not trouble himself with anything so crass as performing. This bit ended with Mr. MacMurray enjoying a plate of cookies while seated in an easy chair on stage. Subsequently, however, Mr. Gobel has put guest stars Angela Lansbury and Jack Carson to work with hilarious results. Yet, despite the banana peels, Mr. Gobel's comedy is warm and intimate. He "throws away," his lines, yet through his expert delivery and the fact his comedy is never malicious, the "thrown" lines hold a far greater impact than those of any number of his harder-punching contemporaries. All concerned deserve applause. Peggy King, a younger version of Judy Garland, both in looks and voice, who parlayed a Hunt's Tomato Sauce singing jingle into what promises to be a fine career, is both decorative and pleasant to listen to. Especially worthy of mention are writers Jack Douglas, James Allerdice, Harry Winkler and Hal Kanter (the last also the director), who with Mr. Gobel have created a show which should serve the rest of the industry as a measuring stick. Production Cost: $30,000. Sponsors: Armour & Co. through Foote, Cone & Belding and Pet Milk Co. through Gardner Adv. Co., alternating. Network: NBC-TV, Sat., 10-10:30 p.m. Production Supervisor: Edward Sobel; executive director: Bud Yorkin; director: Hal Kanter; musical director: John Scott Trotter; art director: Jay Krause; technical director: Joe Strauss; unit manager: Gino Conte. Writers: Jack Douglas, James Allerdice, Harry Winkler, Hal Kanter. OMNIBUS PROOF that television is something more than radio with pictures and that what was once top radio fare needs a new element to click was effectively, if sadly, supplied by Fred Allen on the opening Omnibus program of the current season, Oct. 17 on CBS-TV. The Sunday afternoon program was more than generous to Mr. Allen, allotting him nearly a third of its 90 minutes on the air to preview his forthcoming book, Treadmill to Oblivion, which he described as the story of his radio program from its birth as The Linit Show in 1932, to its death as The Fred Allen Show in the late forties. Mr Allen read from the book and, assisted by Portland Hoffa and the characters from Allen's Alley, reproduced for the tv audience some of the highspots from his old radio program. It should have been excruciatingly funny. It wasn't. The pleasant nostalgia evoked by the quotes from the Allen radio series was overpowered by a bewildered "Did I really think that was funny?" There were, of course, flashes of the old Allen wit, but long before the act was over this reviewer was more sorry for Mr. Allen than amused by him. He seemed to be proving his title the hard way. The rest of the opening Omnibus bill was as good as its star performer was disappointing. The story of the escape of Nora Kovach and Istvan Rabovsky, Hungarian ballet dancers, from the Communist world to the West and freedom, filmed in Munich, was an exciting real-life thriller, surprisingly unmarred by the fact that the audience knew its happy ending in advance. The world as it looks from a globecircling plane provided an unusual and interesting quarter-hour travelogue. But for this frustrated trap drummer the program's high point was the tour of the percussion section of a symphony orchestra, conducted by Saul Goodman, head percussionist of the New York Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra. Assisted by students at various stages of their percussion education and by members of his professional staff, Mr. Goodman demontrated most of the 40 types of percussion instruments and their use in modern music. Alistair Cooke again did a fine job as master of ceremonies, providing an adequate introduction for each number and then getting out of its way. Once more, Omnibus promises to provide 90 minutes of worthwhile, stimulating entertainment, a little off the beaten track. Production Costs — Approximately $60,000. Sponsored by Scott Paper Co. and Aluminum Ltd. of Canada through J. Walter Thompson Co. and Norcross Inc. through Abbott Kimball Co. Production Supervisor — Robert Saudek Master of Ceremonies — Alistair Cooke Integrating Director — Seymour Robbie Director of Fred Allen — Dan Petrie Nonstop round-the-world flight film by Pan American Airways ★ ★ ★ BOOKS THE BIG BALL OF WAX, by Shepherd Mead. Simon & Schuster, New York, 246 pp. $3.50. IT WAS just before Momsday, 1992. The fellows in Market Research at Con Chem were mostly concerned with buying gifts for Mom and preparing for the Momsday office party. People didn't even talk about Christmas office parties any more. Then the reports of sales declines began to come in from St. Louis. Nobody was buying anything in St. Louis. Everybody was all wrapped up in XP. XP was television refined to the extreme. XP enabled the viewer to experience anything that I was recorded on the special video tapes — anything, even sex — and experience more intense sensations than were possible in actual experience. If Con Chem's advertising agency, Thrash, Simple & Mannick, hadn't figured a way to harness XP to commercial uses, the whole country might have gone to pot. As it was. however, only television was killed off. XP naturally was a greater selling force. As vice president and radio-tv copy chief of Benton & Bowles, Shepherd Mead writes sales messages for a living and satire as a sideline. This book is plainly the work of a man who knows what he's lampooning and as such is worth tearing one's self away from the kind of old-fashioned television that's around now. Page 14 • October 25, 1954 Broadcasting Telecasting