Around the dial

First of all, a personal note. I was cleaning out the comments section this week, deleting some that were obviously spam (either that, or I've got a huge following in the Middle East and India), which meant I got a chance to catch up with some replies, so if you've left a comment in the last two or three weeks, I might have added something. It does remind me, however, of how tremendously grateful I am to all of you for taking time to read and comment on this blog. I've said this before and I'll probably say it again, but I'm humbled by the kind things you say - really, by the fact that you read this at all. It's come a long way in the last few years, and I owe that to you, the readers, as well as the bloggers below and on the sidebar, with whom I share a terrific community of classic TV fans. Now, doesn't that make you feel as if you really owe it to me, as well as to yourselves, to buy my book when it comes out?

Enough with the sentiment! Let's get to the hard facts of the week in classic television. And we'll start off with Comfort TV, which makes it to Minnesota in the countdown of "50 States, 50 Classic Moments." And after that cruel, vicious, unwarranted attack I made against Iowa last week, I should point out in fairness that David's article spotlights the poster boy for television news in the Twin Cities: Ted Baxter.

On Saturday, yours truly appeared in Christmas TV History's annual "Christmas in July" series, answering some wonderful questions about my favorite Christmas television. Many thanks to Joanna for hosting this each year and generously inviting all of us to participate. Keep reading; there are many more good answers to come!

Thrilling Days of Yesteryear brings back one of Art Linkletter's signature programs - the 40s radio series and 50s TV series People Are Funny, which was of the same genre as Truth or Consequences. I don't think I've ever actually seen or heard an episode of the program, but I know it well enough that I recognize it in the very funny Bugs Bunny TV spoof "People Are Bunny," in which Bugs and Daffy wind up on the show "People Are Phony." You can guess how that turns out.

Classic TV and Film Café highlights what is, indeed, some perfect summer viewing: the 60s NBC series Dr. Kildare, starring Richard Chamberlain and Raymond Massey. Kildare is always coupled with ABC's similar doctor series Ben Casey (although Kildare had a long life on radio and in the movies), just as each series spun off its own psychiatric drama - The Eleventh Hour from Kildare, Breaking Point from Casey. I was never a big fan either of Vince Edwards or the Casey character, so I'll go along with Rick's endorsement of Doc Kildare.

Yes, Richard Roundtree is Shaft, as Once Upon a Screen reminds us, not only on the big screen but on television as well. It's a story that still holds up very well, transcending its genre every bit as much as Raymond Chandler did with Marlowe. I thought the remake with Samuel L. Jackson was a lot of fun, but he's still only second best.

It's true - travel does broaden the mind

O ne of the things I've noticed in looking through TV Guides of the 1960s is that there used to be a lot of travel shows on TV.  In other words, The Travel Channel isn't anything new. Specials, weekly series, travelogues - many of them in color. It's one of the things we tend to forget, with travel having become so ubiquitous, that it wasn't always thus, and many people got their first glimpses of life in other parts of the country, or the world, through television (and newsreels before that).

When Edward R. Murrow's See It Now premiered in 1951, both he and the viewers were impressed by television's ability to show, for the first time ever, live pictures of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans simultaneously. Seeing both oceans, even if it were only on television, was something that many people could only hope to experience in real life.

One of the best-known travelogue shows of the 1960s

This came to mind last month, when my home town of Minneapolis was named one of the three finalists (along with Buenos Aires, Argentina and Lodz, Poland) to host the 2023 World's Fair. Never mind that most people today don't even know that World's Fairs still exist, if in fact they ever knew about them, and that few of us living in the Twin Cities can comprehend how in the world they're ever going to make it work. Indeed, Expos* are now only held every five years or so, and I can't really remember the last one that made big headlines.  Perhaps it was Expo '67 in Montreal, which birthed the name of a baseball team, or the 1962 World's Fair in Seattle, which gave us the Space Needle and the monorail.  The 1939-40 World's Fair in New York - the "World of Tomorrow" - is one of the most iconic and best-loved ever, and the 1933-34 "Century of Progress" in Chicago included an exhibition baseball game that continues to this day - the All-Star Game.

*Or "Registered Expositions," if you want to really get technical about it.

One of the last iconic fairs, at least in this country, was the 1964-65 World's Fair in Flushing Meadows, New York. There seems something so "modern" about it - not just the times, but the architecture, such as the Unisphere, that fair's version of the Trylon and Perisphere.  There's also the idea that the wondrously exotic world of the Fair, which up until now had been something one could see only at the Fair itself, was now available to anyone. The jet age, the age of Pam-American and TWA, meant that world travel wasn't just for the select few, but now was available to a broader section of Americans.

In 1964, NBC's Edwin Newman hosted "A World's Fair Diary," a documentary on that fair, that shows how it was both progressive and innocent. I like the idea that a lumberjack competition could be considered exotic, just as much as the wonders of the Orient. Again, it's a glimpse at a time that offered a glimpse into a world few people had seen - but, as the song of the time said, "It's a small world."


There was, in those days, something awesome and inspiring about a World's Fair, as anyone who's seen the pictures of the "World of Tomorrow" can attest. Among the major attractions of the 1964-65 Fair were da Vinci's Mona Lisa and Michelangelo's Pietà. By contrast, the plan for Minnesota's Expo 2023 is to "feature a variety of local and international exhibits and activities that showcase local health care initiatives and innovation." Which sounds
very
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What? Oh, excuse me - I must have nodded off there. I guess the excitement was just too much for me.

There's no doubt that television, which did so much to bring the world into our living rooms, also took some of that mystery away - after all, it's hard to imagine what a world's fair can offer that you can't get in HD. It may also be why television (and movies) resort to so many car chases, explosions, and overall loudness - you can't sell a story anymore simply on an exotic location. Ah well, television giveth, and it taketh away.

In the meantime, it can also preserve memories of the past; that special on the New York World's Fair is complete on YouTube in six parts.  Part 1 is above; here are the links to Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6.

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

We're back in Philadelphia this week; I suspect the numerous issues I have from Philly must have been bought at the same time, probably at the Mid Atlantic Nostalgia Convention last year. Although issues from the Twin Cities will remain my favorite, I must admit a fondness for the Guides from Philadelphia. First, it has a rich television history - I've only scratched the surface with some of the observations I've made, which leads me to think I may have to spend a future piece talking about it at greater length. Second, even though it's not from the Central time zone, I can identify with the listings in a way I don't always do - Los Angeles or Atlanta, for example. Don't know why that's the case, it just is.

This week in TV Guide: July 11, 1959

No messing around this week - let's go right to the programming, and we'll catch up on the features afterward. It's the way I used to read TV Guide.

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

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

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

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

Did you ever wonder how you'd react if someone gave you a million dollars? That's the premise of The Millionaire, CBS's long-running drama series, and on Wednesday at 9:00 p.m. we find out how policeman Dan Howell reacts: he's convinced it has to be a bribe, and refuses the money.

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

Friday ends the week with William Reynolds, future partner of Efrem Zimbalist Jr. on The FBI, as the title character in NBC's drama Pete Kelly's Blues (7:30 p.m.); Bob Hope, guest starring as himself on I Love Lucy (8:30 p.m., CBS), Jimmy Stewart introducing and narrating the docudrama "Cowboy Five Seven" on CBS's Playhouse (9:30 p.m.), and a middleweight bout between Rory Calhoun (not the actor) and Dick Tiger (not yet the world middleweight and light-heavyweight champion) on NBC's Gillette Cavalcade of Sports (10:00 p.m.).

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There are different ways to describe women. Beautiful, attractive, alluring, cute. There is no wrong answer; all of them are good. The way to describe that picture of Lola Albright (left) is cute. As I said, no wrong answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As for my own experience? Well, some of these words seem a bit harsh, but I can't really argue with the conclusion. To me, the show was run-of-the-eyeball, or at least run-of-the-mill. There was nothing terribly different or exciting about it; one episode featured Markham being locked out on an apartment balcony building during a freezing storm which will surely mean the end of him if he doesn't figure out some way of reentry into the building. All the way in the leadup to this situation, I'd hoped that Markham was just playing it cool, letting the killer fall into his trap - but no, Markham actually fell for the rather lame maneuver that allowed his adversary to trap him outside. It was, to be honest, a bit disappointing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Around the dial

We may have a short week, what with the Fourth of July, but that doesn't mean we're short on material here. Follow along to some of the best classic TV writing of the week.

The roll call of the states continues, as Comfort TV continues to run down the classic TV moments associated with each state. The next 10 include a state very near to Minnesota - can you believe an episode of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. set in Iowa? (By the way, it's also one of the few times you'll see a sentence that includes the words "sophisticated" and "Iowa"...)

Classic Film & TV Café ventures into the Perry Mason movie series, with the initial offering, Perry Mason Returns. I've always had mixed feelings about these movies; on the one hand, as Rick says, it is good to see Perry and Della together again, but on the other hand can you actually believe Perry would have taken that judgeship in the first place without bringing Della along? I know it gets in the way of the plot, but asking the viewers to make a tremendous suspension of disbelief at the very outset is not, in my opinion, the best way to get started.

The Twilight Zone Vortex asks us once again to set aside some scientific truths in favor of a story that makes a point, and the result is "The Little People," with Joe Maross as the man who thought he was a god. Hint: ideas like that don't generally turn out very well.

It's Christmas in July at Christmas TV History, and Joanna continues her tradition of asking various TV bloggers a series of questions about their Yuletide favorites. There's a new respondent each day and I'll be participating as well, but in the meantime check out this entry from Donna Bock, which demonstrates the power of wonderful Christmas memories.

Cult TV Blog returns to 1979 and the British parapsychology drama The Omega Factor. I appreciate John's confession that he had to push himself to review this episode ("After Image"), but persevered because it helped him understand the series better. I also like his description of how the episode mirrors the style of the times; another series worth investigating.

While we're on the subject of British TV, Fire Breathing Dimetrodon Time returns to the second season of John Pertwee's Doctor and the episode "Terror of the Autons," featuring not only the aforementioned villain, but the introduction of one of the series' most memorable human villain: The Master.

"Death Scene" is the latest episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour to be reviewed at bare-bones e-zine. I won't tell you the whole story (you'll have to read the review), but unless the victim deserved to be murdered, I can tell you how it should have ended: the killer hears a knock at the door and thinks it's the agent with the check for the life insurance money. Instead, the man says, "Ma'am, my name is Lieutenant Columbo. I hate to bother you at a time like this, but I'm hoping you can help me with a problem I've got..."

I don't know how long it's been since I've thought of the '80s series Crazy Like a Fox, which starred Jack Warden and John Rubenstein in a father-and-son mystery-comedy, but it's been brought back to mind by The Horn Section, reviewing the 1985 episode "Turn of the Century Fox." Did I watch this series? I don't think so, but I do remember it nonetheless.

Television's New Frontier: the 1960s takes a gander at Oscar-winner Shirley Booth's sitcom classic Hazel, based on the Ted Key cartoon character in the Saturday Evening Post about a maid who essentially runs the household. An interesting case to be made here, that the show breaks the stereotypes of the time, by insisting that everyone, regardless of class or position, is worthy of respect.

At Electric Lit, Neil Serven has a terrific article about the days when TV Guide was "the place for smart criticism." You all probably know this already, because I've been browbeating you about it every Saturday, but Serven's article is very good at linking this to how we used to see and consume television, and why we might not be able to do it again even if we wanted to.

One thing you will want to do, though, and that's come back here tomorrow for a look at one of those very TV Guides.

TV Jibe: Now that's reality TV!

What's on TV? Thursday, July 4, 1996

And a Happy 4th of July to you too, albeit a day early. I believe I neglected to mention on Saturday that this week's edition is from the Los Angeles area; no wonder, since I never got around to even touching on the week's programming. Never mind - we'll make up for it here.

For all my complaints regarding television in this era, it might surprise you to know that I think the pioneers of television would be pleased with much that you see here. Maybe not the tawdry "discussion" shows that dominate daytime television, or the common-denominator programs that run in primetime. But if you look at Channel 18, for example, or Channel 40, you'll see what I mean: programs that directly address a small, niche audience that would ordinarily be ignored by network television. In the case of Channel 18, you've got a veritable United Nations of language spoken on their airwaves. Channel 22 is another, with a primetime of Spanish-language programming. Both of these stations are doing exactly what the FCC hoped to accomplish through their emphasis on local programming - they're addressing a need on the part of the public, one that can't possibly be addressed by a network on the other side of the country. And Channel 40, the TBN affiliate, just like Bravo and A&E and other specialty stations, concentrates on programming to fit a very specific demand - religion in this instance, but it could be arts or sports or current affairs or news. This, rather than endless reruns of network shows from the last ten years, is what television's potential was supposed to represent.

Of course, it also produced a fragmented viewing public, but that's a complaint for another day.

This week in TV Guide: June 29, 1996

We now come to another in our series of special TV Guide issues, thanks to the generosity of Mr. Steve Harris, whom you may recall was also responsible for the 40th Anniversary and 45th Anniversary issues. This week, it's the 100 most memorable moments in TV history - according to TV Guide, that is.

Lists like this are always hard to critique objectively. We have moments that are personal favorites, or made an indelible impression on us for one reason or another, and so it's understandable that we might attach a greater importance to such moments than others would. We also have to realize that different generations view things in different ways; we tend to have short attention spans nowadays, and very little historical perspective, with the result that we tend to regard anything that happened more than, say, five years ago to be ancient history never to be revisited again. We also live in a culture that has been heavily Oprahfized, with the result that we attach a far greater sense of import to moments that appeal to emotions and feelings. Unfortunate, but also a reality given the world in which we live.

There's also the question as to whether or not memorable moments are also timeless moments - in other words, does a story that makes an impression at a certain place and time need to remain vital twenty years later, or is it enough that people were impacted once, without it having to carry the same weight to succeeding generations? In this case, I'd suggest that it's enough for a moment to have been memorable once; even if something similar to it were to happen again, you can't expect succeeding occurrences to have the same impact as the original. We'll see an example of that very early on - at #8, in fact.

You may recall that we looked at a similar list a few years ago, written from the perspective of 2012, and while I wasn't terribly impressed with that list either, I think it can be useful to consider not only for those events that happened since 1996, but also as a way of measuring how things have changed in our culture in the 21 years since this issue came out. We'll get to that in due time, but first let's examine the list we already have in front of us.

Removing all suspense at the very outset, I'll clue you in that the single most memorable moment in television history, according to this TV Guide, is the first manned moon landing in 1969, and quite frankly I'd find that very hard to disagree with. It's hard to find a moment that more accurately represents the culmination of a centuries-held dream than Neil Armstrong's first step onto the surface of the moon (on live television!). The rest of the top ten: Lucy in the candy factory (#2), John-John's salute (#3), the Beatles' first appearance on the Sullivan show (#4), the final episodes of Newhart (#5) and The Fugitive (#6), the O.J. Simpson verdict (#7), the wedding of Charles and Diana (#8), Bette Midler on the penultimate Carson show (#9), and the 1968 Elvis comeback show (#10). Some of these are perceptive choices, others come across today as little more than the flavor of the month but were special once.

Charles and Diana, for instance, were big stuff once, before their fairy tale went south. In our 2012 list, it's been replaced by two events: the funeral of Diana, and the marriage of her son William and Kate Middleton. Had the list been made years before, the event on the list might have been the coronation of Queen Elizabeth. A few years from now, it might be the coronation of William. Times change, and there's no question that the impact made by that 1981 wedding was substantial. That doesn't mean it should appear on any other list, but I suppose it does validate its appearance on this one. And so on - considering that the younger generation doesn't even know who Johnny Carson is (or so we're told), it's not likely that Bette Midler singing to him is going to remain on future lists . But it was good enough to happen once.

Now, while no list is perfect, and I've already given this one some breaks, there are things that I simply can't overlook - events that just don't belong on this or any other list. For example, there's Muhammad Ali's knockout of George Foreman to regain the heavyweight championship in 1974 (#54). This frankly baffles, since the fight wasn't even on live home television - the live broadcast was on closed-circuit in movie theaters around the country. It wasn't until later that the bout made it to Wide World of Sports, by which time you'd have had to have been completely out of it to not know how the fight had turned out. I don't question its place in sporting history, but to call it one of television's most memorable moments is simply nonsense.

The #3 event on the list, John F. Kennedy Jr.'s salute to his father, is similar. There's no question it's a touching moment, but I don't think its fame derives from the live television coverage. No, what gave this moment its iconic status are the pictures taken by UPI photographer Stan Sterns and New York Daily News photographer John Farrell. As Sterns says, it was a moment that most missed. "As the caisson was rolling out to Arlington Cemetery I asked every photographer I could if they had the salute. Duh! Nobody saw it. Everyone I talked to had been concentrating on Jackie and the caisson." Farrell was nominated for a Pulitzer for his photo*, which appeared on the front page of the Daily News the next day, and it's that exposure, not the original moment as captured on television, that people probably remember. Look at the original television coverage of the funeral; as this still taken from the CBS coverage shows, the salute is not the focal point of the shot; John Jr. can only be seen in the lower left-hand of the screen, a small boy on a small black-and-white picture tube being watched by millions of people who were literally shell-shocked. The picture in the paper the next day is what people would never forget.

*Farrell lost to Bob Jackson's photograph of Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald. That image, which was seen live on NBC, was - as Guinness certifies - "the first known human killing seen live on TV ." TV Guide rated it #73, but I think that's the memorable moment of those four dark days.

For the same reason, I object strongly to including the premiere episodes of programs that go on to a long and successful lifespan, such as the debuts of Roseanne (#40), The Cosby Show (#31), and Bonanza (#29). While it's true that each of these series may have, to one extent or another, redefined an aspect of television, nobody knew or appreciated that at the time. To be included as a memorable moment, it seems to me, one has to have an immediate, "did you just see that? kind of reaction. To their credit, the inclusion of Hill Street Blues' premiere (#65) does have that moment, when the camera reveals that the lover of defense attorney Joyce Davenport is, in fact, her nemesis Detective Frank Furillo. Maybe it wasn't the most groundbreaking moment of all time (which is probably why it ranked relatively low), and I don't know that I would necessarily call it the scene that tipped everyone off that here was something special, but at least it was something of a sit-up-straight moment.

Now, it's true that a list like this isn't going to satisfy everyone - in fact, it might not satisfy most people. And I don't want to dismiss it out-of-hand, because I think it does reflect some very perceptive choices. The writers were wise to rank The Fugitive's final episode (#6) ahead of the M*A*S*H finale (#78) and the "Who Shot J.R." episode of Dallas (#13), despite those two shows garnering more viewers. Clarence Thomas' comments on being the victim of a "high-tech lynching" (#30) showed many people for the first time the extent of the political divisions within the black community. Ed Ames and his tomahawk on The Tonight Show make the list at #35, even though they botch the money quote; they offer Johnny Carson's comment "I can't hurt him any more than you did" when asked by Ames if he wanted a throw, whereas I think most people remember Carson's riposte (thought up while the audience was in hysterics) that "I didn't even know you were Jewish." Maybe that wasn't P.C. enough for this crowd. And even though I'm no fan of Lucille Ball, I think the choice of her famous candy on the conveyor belt scene as #2 indicates an appreciation of television history that's too often missing from lists like this.

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This week's list is now over 20 years old and there's a lot that's happened since then, which is why we look at the 2012 list. It's interesting to note that 13 of the 20 items on that list occurred in the 16 years between 1996 and 2012. Think about that for a moment: while television has been around since before World War II, it's really only been since the late 1940s that it's entered into the realm of pop culture. And while it took nearly 50 years to produce this week's TV Guide list of 100, it took only 16 years to accumulate 65% of the events on this (admittedly shorter) list.*

*Of those seven that happened prior to 1996, three happened within five years of our TV Guide issue. Only two occurred prior to 1986, and they were actually part of the same event (JFK's assassination and funeral). None were from the broadcast of an episode of series television or a sporting event. Let me repeat that for you - none. 

Does this mean the world moves more quickly, or that we have shorter attention spans? Is series television not as memorable as it used to be, or is it just less important? (I would say, for instance, that the final episode of The Sopranos certainly deserves a spot on the list, and some would compare the whimsical conclusion of Mad Men to the absurdist finale of Newhart.) Are we more attuned to separating the important from the frivolous, or are we just more ignorant when it comes to television's history and heritage? I suppose there's some truth to each of these, and we'll probably never know the exact reason why.

In the meantime, it should come as no surprise that the top TV moment in that 2012 list is the destruction of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, and in some ways I think contrasting the top choice from each of these lists is the most interesting thing of all.

By 1969, public sentiment was turning against the space program. Now, I don't mean to suggest that a majority were opposed to it, but those who were comprised a vocal minority. Their argument centered around the enormous financial cost to put a man on the moon, and how that money might be better put to use funding social programs in this country. (Eventually, the Nixon Administration did put the kibosh on the moon landings, but there's a school of thought that suggests this was due to Nixon's animus toward the Kennedy legacy as anything. But, we digress.) Despite this, the flight of Apollo 11 was one of the most highly anticipated events in world history, the culmination of one of mankind's greatest achievements. I say this partly for the benefit of you youngsters out there who've never lived a day in your lives without the reality of man having set foot on the moon - it's difficult to overestimate just what a spectacular event this was. It was the ultimate in human scientific triumph - we had conquered the moon, and the stars lay ahead!

The contrast with the World Trade Center couldn't be more stark. In the Twin Towers, we had another of mankind's great technological feats. Although the towers had since been displaced as the world's tallest, and even though the aesthetic charms of the buildings were sometimes difficult to appreciate, think about it: the concurrent construction, side-by-side, of two 100+ story towers. And over the course of two or three hours, they were both gone - destroyed by another of man's great achievements, the jet aircraft. Whereas the moon landing represented technology's success, the WTC was a stunning downfall.

In some ways, this reminds me of the Titanic sinking. As you probably know, I've long been interested in the Titanic, and the story of the world's largest and most luxurious ship - virtually unsinkable - going down the very first time she sailed is one of history's great parables, speaking to man's hubris. (As a man of the time had said upon completion of the Titanic, "God Himself could not sink this ship.") I don't mean to suggest that the destruction of the Twin Towers is a similar case; the fact that it was a man-created disaster makes it all the more shocking, as if it had been man and not God who had brought down the Tower of Babel. What it is, ultimately, is a reminder to put not your complete faith in technology, no matter how great an achievement it might be.

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And ultimately, isn't this what television is, a great technological achievement? Beaming a moving picture into the home, covering events live (as they happen!), covering them in color, covering them in HD, covering them (for a time) in 3D, covering them in 4K. When does it end?

Despite this, television's star begins to fade. Cord-cutting is on the rise, even as the number of stations continues to increase. Networks pay more for the rights to sporting events, which look magnificent on the newest 4K televisions - while at the same time viewers move away from traditional broadcasts in favor of streaming tiny pictures on their mobile devices. I don't understand why anyone would want to watch a small picture when a large one could be had, just as I don't understand why anyone feels it necessary to be constantly on the move instead of actually concentrating on one thing at a time. But then, that's just me - maybe they think they're fish, and that if they stop moving, they're dead.

Ultimately, this list (and lists like it) tell us far more about ourselves and our times than they do about television, for while we learn very little about the shows themselves, we find out a great deal about the times that produced them. We replace the "unreality" of scripted TV shows with the "reality" of news, the emotion from comedy and drama shows with the emotion from celebrity deaths, the optimism of television's youth with the pessimism and cynicism of television's present.

And the future? Television continues to evolve, from over-the-air to cable and now to streaming. In this sense, a list like this represents (as all such issues do) a kind of autopsy, for a way of life as much as for television itself. When that next list comes along, will we see even less evidence of institutional memory, less knowledge and respect for television's history? Will another raft of news events, significant or trivial, come to dominate the list? Will our viewing be dominated by some type of virtual reality, making us more a participant in what we watch? The only appropriate response seems to be: stay tuned.