Swing (Feb-Dec 1952)

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432 meant to be luxurious and isn't. It's a TV factory, stuffed with whirring wheels, paint shops and cables. CBS's is twice as big and expensive. Neither is yet finished and the word around Hollywood is that both are already obsolete. Meanwhile, every available lot is bustling with television activity. Pathc, RKO, Roach are swarming with actors and writers and technicians, all shooting film for television — heaven knows how much. The General Service Studio, an old structure, probably boasts more television stars than any place in town. Three years ago, the owner was considering renting the space as an automobile parking lot. It was built for independent movie production and when the bottom fell out it became a ghost town. Today, you can't get space on it. On its antiquated sound stages arc shot such TV shows as "I Love Lucy," "The Burns and Allen Show," the interior shots of "The Lone Ranger," "Ozzie and Harriet," "I Married Joan," "Our Miss Brooks." Here "I Love Lucy" pioneered a technique which is spreading all over the place — the filmed show in front of an audience, a sort of mixture of movies, radio and television which has been enormously successful. On the domestic shows, the settings are remarkably alike. Lined up, so the actors can pass from one to another, are permanent sets — a kitchen, living room and bedroom— the basic framework of domestic comedy. (If they need another set, they build it in front of one of the permanent sets and then tear it down.) In front of these — at least, on those shows that shoot in front of an audience — behind the cameras and the sound booms, are rows of bleachers, just plain boards, which resemble the stands at a backwoods football stadium. It's all wonderfully primitive and it works fine. The few seats at, say, "I Love Lucy," are among the most coveted in town. Viewing conditions are far from ideal, but everyone wants to see Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz do their pratfalls — even though the most they can frequently see is the back of a camerman's neck. I walked down the street at General Service with an actor. Every time he passed anyone, he'd smile, hold his fingers in an "O" sign and say: "Great! Very funny!" The others would beam at him and nod back. "What's very funny?" I asked. "You're the first one who's asked," he said. "Everyone here is shooting comedy shows. You can say: 'Great! Very funny!" to anyone here and he thinks you're talking about his show. Actually, we're all so busy shooting for television here none of us has time to look at it very much." "He's been that way ever since he heard someone say the world is going to the dogs." Some Temperamental Difference ONE of my favorite indoor pastimes is listening to actors complain. Like a soldier, an actor isn't really content unless he's griping about something. Lately the networks, NBC and CBS. have given the entertainers a marvelous new avenue for