AGE OF CONSENT - July 1963 (East Side/West Side)

“On those occasions when the medium has taken a stab at limning the unhappy reality of what goes on in much of the world (e.g., East Side/West Side), the public has quickly tuned out.” These words were written in May 1968 by the sponsor of Julia, in an effort to justify the Diahann Carroll sitcom’s lightweight idealistic take on race relations and single parenthood in the midst of the Civil Rights movement. Four years after it was cancelled, East Side/West Side had come to exemplify within the television industry the kind of programming that was too dark, too controversial, too unglamorous, too depressing, or simply too good to catch on with a mainstream audience.

When it debuted as part of CBS’s 1963 fall lineup, however, East Side represented a milestone in the evolution of quality television. As the great anthologies of television’s Golden Age died off in the late nineteen-fifties and early sixties, independent producers like Fred Coe, David Susskind, and Herbert Brodkin quietly supplanted them with continuing dramatic series that offered equally challenging and intelligent content. East Side/West Side, Susskind’s chief contribution to this effort, proved the most challenging and confrontational of this wave of early TV dramas. Its unflinching commitment to addressing topical politics and real social issues did in fact manage to alienate its intended viewership in a big hurry.

Thus wrote Stephen Bowie in his fascinating behind-the-scenes reportage of the one year in the life of EAST SIDE/WEST SIDE, which you can read in its entirety on his Clasic TV History website at:

http://classictvhistory.com/EpisodeGuides/east_side_west_side.html

My involvement wiith EAST SIDE began in April, 1963. During my preparation period for COLOR SCHEMES LIKE NEVER BEFORE on NAKED CITY, one of my agents in the New York office took me to meet David Susskind. Now remember I was at this time still one of the new kids on the block; my entire filmography consisted of ten television films. But the recent assignments on ROUTE 66 and NAKED CITY certainly hadn’t harmed my growing reputation. I remember David describing his new series and then asking me if I thought I could handle the assignment. “Absolutely,” was my response. The agency then proceded to book me for four episodes on EAST SIDE to be filmed during the coming season. The first assignment would be in July, following an episode of THE NURSES, also being filmed in New York in June.

Scouting locations and casting were the first order of the day when I reported. Setting Carroll O’Connor to guest star was easy. Casting director, Alan Shayne, then paraded a long line of young players in to audition for the young lovers. I remember interviewing Mia Farrow for the role of Alice. Mia was lovely, like a fragile Dresden China doll. We decided on Penny Fuller for our grittier drama. And a young Robert Drivas to play Johnny. My friend Paul Bryar, of whom I have written about extensively, was in New York at the time. Allan was delighted to get a character actor with Paul’s Hollywood credits, and so we cast him to play Johnny’s father. At this time Paul and I had worked together on two stage productions; this would be our first screen collaboration.

Stephen’s history of EAST SIDE details a turbulent tale of a production where the drama behind the scenes totally overshadowed those stories being enacted before the camera. I’m not sure how early in the schedule AGE OF CONSENT fell, but that havoc hadn’t yet descended on the series as far as I was concerned. But one of the contributing factors to that havoc was scripts; and the script for AGE OF CONSENT, in two words, had problems. Now I was not shy about doing on-set revisions to scripts. This was frowned upon in most productions; but at this time George very early on made it a practice when starting a new scene to say, “Now what are we going to do about fixing this?” And the actors involved in the coming scene and I would sit down and do some on-set revising. Let me show you an example. Here is the script for the first scene between young Alice and her father, George Audette. (Start with Scene 19. And don't forget to tap to enlarge the page.)

And here is what we filmed.

Paul Bryar came from a very theatrical family. His father was George Barrere, one of the leading flutist in the world; his mother was Michelette Burani, a distinguished French actress who appeared on Broadway and in Hollywood films. As was the custom of the time, Paul (which was his middle name; his first name was Gabriel and all his friends knew him as Gaby) anglicized his name of Barrere to Bryar. And the legacy has continued. His sons have all been involved in show business -- but this time retaining their original French names: Michel Barrere has worked in film in electrical and construction; Robert Barrere is a film editor; and the youngest, Paul Barrere is one of the founding members of the musical group, Little Feat. During the preparation period of AGE OF CONSENT, Gaby took me to the musical production of TOVARICH on Broadway which starred Vivien Leigh. Gaby’s brother, Jean Barrere, was the production stage manager for the musical.

What was it like working with George C. Scott? George was totally professional, but this show was filmed in six days; George worked five of those days. So you don’t really have time to form personal relationships in that short a time on sets that are that busy. He was charming, friendly, even funny. I have nothing but good memories of working with him. He was a giant talent! It would have been exciting to work with him on material that challenged that talent more.

The script for AGE OF CONSENT really showed its debt to the writing of the live Golden Age of Television. Except for the opening sequence of the young lovers in the park, it could have been produced as a live drama of that period. That was true of all of the filmed television being produced in New York at that time. THE DEFENDERS and THE NURSES, both produced by Herbert Brodkin, also were interior show with little or no location shooting. I directed two episodes of THE NURSES without ever leaving the studio. That was not necessarily bad screenplay writing. But it did demand of the authors the talent to write meaty, confrontational material. Those same demands on the talents of actors provided them with the opportunity to exercise their craft.

Now let me show you another instance in the script where a major cut provided a more meaningful line of dialogue (half in the original script and half written on the set) by George Audette.

AGE OF CONSENT provided me with a continuation of my association with director of photography, Jack Priestley, the cameraman on NAKED CITY. Jack was hired to bring the Emmy award talents for gritty, realistic photography that he had used on that recently cancelled series to the EAST SIDE.

On the first day that I staged a scene between Penny and Robert, I heard the camera operator mumble as he checked the setup through the camera lens, “She looks like his grandmother.” I, of course, did not agree with that opinion. Actually Drivas was two years older than Penny, and both young players went on to sterling careers. Drivas became a successful Broadway director and Penny played Eve in APPLAUSE, the Broadway musical based on the movie classic, ALL ABOUT EVE.

In retrospect it is easy to see the flaw in selecting the role of a social worker for a series starring George C. Scott. George at that time and for the rest of his career was noted for his dominating explosive performances. In this series he was relegated to the background. When he did move into the foreground, it was usually as mediator.

But if George was not using his explosive emotions before the camera, that didn’t mean they had disappeared. As Stephen Bowie relates in his Classic Television History website, the series aired in the fall to mixed critical reaction and low ratings. Jim Aubrey, the head of programming at CBS (and known as the “Cobra”) decided the program would have to be retooled to make it more accessible to a wide audience. And now let’s let Stephen’s fine account finish the story:

Aubrey’s attempt to remodel the show provoked perhaps the most famous explosion of George C. Scott’s legendary temper. David Susskind’s son, Andrew, recalled the incident:

My father got a call from Jim Aubrey saying, ‘I want you and

George C. Scott in my office now, right away.’ George had quit

smoking at this time, which only made him more ornery than

usual. As an oral substitute, he had taken up peeling and

eating apples. And he had a fairly impressive knife that he

used to carve an apple. So my father and Scott showed up in

Aubrey’s office, and Aubrey said, ‘You know, we get this

research, and it’s too depressing. I want these characters out

of Harlem and I want them on Park Avenue.’

Now Scott said nothing. What he did was, he sat there, and

he was carving the apple, and he would slice off a chunk of

it and [yank it off the knife and shove it into his mouth].

My father said, ‘Jim. They’re social workers. There are no

social workers on Park Avenue. Their problems are in Harlem,

or in Bed-Stuy, or in the rough, tough parts of the city. That’s

where the show is.’

Aubrey said, ‘I don’t give a shit. Get them out of Harlem. It’s

depressing. Nobody wants to see it.’

They went back and forth and [my father] said, ‘Jim, we can’t.

You know I promised George we would really do the series and

be true to it. It can’t be done. We’ll be a laughing stock if we

begin to do Park Avenue social worker stories.’

Back and forth and back and forth. And finally Scott, who’s been

carving the apple, takes the knife and jams it in Aubrey’s desk.

The knife is going, ‘Boioioioioioioinnnnnng,’ and he says, ‘The

show stays where it is. Let’s go, David’ And he left with the

knife vibrating in Aubrey’s desk. That I think, pretty much sums

up the relationship of that show with that network.

If George wasn’t given the opportunity to use his explosive emotions in front of the camera, there were still facets of his behavior he could use.

Thirty year old Cicely Tyson was one of the people in Brock’s social worker office. She was hardly given a chance to use her extraordinary talents. In fact James Aubrey at the network (yes, the same one) offered George C. Scott a renewal of the series if he would replace her with a white secretary. Shameful! Cicely in 1963 was at the forefront of the “Black is Beautiful” movement. No more straightening of hair. She wore hers clipped short. And she was one of the shining examples that Black was beautiful! Six years later I would work with Cicely in slightly more challenging roles on the west coast. And she would go on to give some truly wonderful performances in ROOTS, SOUNDER and of course, as Jane Pittman.

I wonder if this had been a story on an anthology whether the final verdict from the judge would have been the very dramatic sentencing of John to prison. But this was not an anthology. And the star of the series had gone to bat for the young man. Shouldn’t that have some effect on the final verdict?

As I stated earlier, the turmoil that plagued the series later did not happen during this production. As booked, I returned to New York in the fall for another double header -- an episode of THE NURSES to be followed immediately by my second of four commitments to EAST SIDE/WEST SIDE. When I finished the assignment on THE NURSES, I was notified by my agents that EAST SIDE/WEST SIDE was behind schedule, and I wouldn’t be reporting for another week. As nice as it sounds to be granted a week’s vacation in New York, the plain truth is I just coudn’t financially afford it. Our salaries in those early days of television were not that flush, and that added week would have been without per diem payments. I asked my agents to cancal my next commitment to EAST SIDE. And while they were at it, I decided I wanted to be released from ALL of my commitments to the show. At this point I had directed eight productions on location (in New York and Texas) in the past nine months plus four more in Hollywood. I was tired. The agency was able to free me from the booking, and I returned to the west coast -- tired and without any employment in my future at that point. But things do have a way of working out for the best. Because I was suddenly available, it was not too long before I was booked to direct Mickey Rooney in an episode of ARREST AND TRIAL, an experience I am very grateful I didn’t have to miss.

THE NIGHT OF THE BIG BLAST - May 1966 (The Wild Wild West)

Only three months had passed from the time I finished THE NIGHT OF THE DRUID’S BLOOD and when I reported to do THE NIGHT OF THE BIG BLAST. For my part I had worked in another (my third) episode of the new Quinn Martin series, THE FBI, but much more had happened out in THE WILD WILD WEST.

Gene Coon had left and former executive producer Michael Garrison was now the producer. As you will see in a moment his credit now read CREATED and Produced by Michael Garrison.

THE WILD WILD WEST had gone to color, another in the final admissions of defeat by CBS. Earlier NBC and CBS had conflicting color systems vying for approval by the FCC. NBC’s electronic system won. But for some time there were not enough color sets in the country to warrant the added expense of filming series in color. NBC of course was most anxious to further their cause, so they began programming series in color earlier than the other networks to encourage America to buy color sets (which they also produced under their RCA label). There was one week (and I’m afraid I don’t remember in which season it occurred) when NBC’s entire evening schedule was in color. The NBC series that were still filming in black and white shot one show in color to be shown during this special week. By 1966 it was inevitable that color was the future, so CBS joined the parade.

To save money during those early years of filming in color, not all of the daily rushes would be printed in color. For each sequence only one setup would be printed in color (it was usually the master shot for the scene). The rest of the takes for that sequence would be printed in black and white. Therefore the work print of the film would bounce back and forth from color master to black and white closeups. It wasn’t until the final answer print that we got to see the entire film in color. Each day a batch of film strips would be delivered to the director of photography from the lab. These film strips were 5 or 6 inches in length and there would be one strip for each setup filmed the previous day. The purpose of this delivery was so the director of photography could view those setups in color for his approval.

So hop on your horses and let’s travel west!

Any similarity between this sequence and the lab scenes in FRANKENSTEIN was purely intentional.

I remember Bob Conrad saying, right after the shot of his body twitching on the gurney, “I studied acting at Northwestern University for this?”

There was a change made in the opening billboard for the show beyond adding color. Here’s the black and white billboard from Season One. Pay attention to the action between the Cowboy and the Dance Hall Lady.

And now another look at the color version of the Second Season.

In the black and white version she taps him with her parasol, and then as she attemlpts to stab him in the back he kisses her passionately, tips his hat and walks off as she swoons against a post. In the color version she knocks his hat off with her parasol, and as she attempts to stab him in the back he kisses her passionately, then he socks her to the ground as he picks up his hat and walks off. Now I wonder what genius at the network requested that improvement.

(A couple of days after publishing this posting I viewed some material at the beginning of THE WILD WILD WEST DVD for the first season. There was some information concerning the opening billboards that is too good to ignore. The series was originally called THE WILD WEST. The black and white billboard included the action later used in the color billboard. At the time the decision was made to rename the series THE WILD WILD WEST, it must have been decided the action of striking the girl to the ground was TOO violent and the more subdued action of her merely swooning was substituted. Now I wonder if Michael Garrison, who created the series, was the one to have overseen the more violent action in that first billboard. And since Michael Garrison was back at the helm at the end of the first season when the show converted to color, if he was the one who reestablished that violent sock in the new color billboard.)

The lab scene was the initial sequence shot on our first day of filming. The crew reported at the usual 7:30 am; filming was scheduled to begin at 8:00 am. Five minutes before 8, Ida Lupino reported to the set, in costume and makeup, ready to film. At 8:25 am our Miklos, MIchael McCloud, arrived; at 8:50 am Robert Conrad showed up and we were able to start filming. Allthough these late arrivals were not standard practice throughout the television industry, they also were not sole occurrences. And I think it was symptomatic of the change in Hollywood from the days of the studio system to the then present day of television production. A few years later David Frost interviewed the four stars of the then smash Broadway musical, FOLLIES. Helen O’Connell, who was interviewed first, was ecstatic in her praise of Alexis Smith, with the emphasis being on Alexis’ professionalism. Later when Miss Smith arrived on the stage, David Frost told her of O’Connell’s words. Alexis then told a story. She was very young, recently arrived at stardom, when she was cast opposite Clark Gable in a film. One morning with an 8:00 am shooting call, Alexis was not on the set; she was still in the makeup department. On the set Clark Gable looked at his watch, noted the time and announced to the director and crew, “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he left. Alexis said she was never late for a set call again.

There was a professionalism about the actors of that earlier time that I am sure was a result of the studio system. Young prospective talent was sought by studio talent scouts and put under a seven year contract -- with option periods every three months. The threat of having ones option dropped was sufficient to make the actor toe the line. That and the example set by the already established stars at the studio who had had that professionalism drilled into them on their way to the top. But studios and production companies, in the age of television were at a disadvantage. Once an actor was established as a bona fide star of a successful network series, they seemed to hold the stronger hand. If the studio fired Vince Edwards, how does BEN CASEY continue on the air? Or Peter Falk on COLUMBO? Or Robert Blake on BARETTA? It was a different world. I know of a show (which shall remain nameless) where the producer challenged one of the show’s stars. Guess who was the one dismissed! I remember the stunned look on the face of the show’s story editor when he came into the office of the production manager (I was present) and announced, “I’ve just been made the producer.”

The following morning I invited Ida to come view the dailies of the first day’s work. She graciously declined, telling me that she could not bear to watch herself on the screen. Then she told me of the incident the year she won the New York Film Critics Award as Best Actress of the Year for her performance in THE HARD WAY. She and her mother were in New York and her mother said, “This is ridiculous. You’ve just won this award; you’re great in the film. You are going to go see it.” So Ida and her mother traipsed down to the Broadway theatre where the film was playing. Ida said she lasted about fifteen minutes; then she told her mother she would meet her in the drug store across the street. She left the theatre and drank coffee for the next couple of hours. She had not been able to bear watching herself on that silver screen, even in an award-winning performance.

I filmed the fight sequence with two cameras. I tried to add the second camera whenever possible as a time-saving procedure. This was a fairly simple sequence. Conrad did his own stunt work, so it was just a matter of Bob and the three stuntmen working out the routine and then doing it. With the two cameras we only had to do the sequence once. Later sequences, involving Ross, Ida and Michael McCloud, were a little more complicated.

Ross Martin was very good for THE WILD WILD WEST and THE WILD WILD WEST was very good for Ross Martin. On the one hand he was the comedy relief, the inept partner of the show’s hero, sort of a handsome Chill Wills. But his wide range as an actor proved invaluable for Ross to assume many, various identities. In this episode he had the rare chance to be the romantic hero, since Jim West has allegedly been eliminated from the story.

I think the casting for this episode was outstanding, reminiscent for me of the way PLAYHOUSE 90 was cast. Get as many star names as possible. I was one of the production supervisors on PLAYHOUSE, and one of my chores was to break down the scripts for casting director, Ethel Winant. Depending on the size of the role, I would chart when each character should report to the studio. Many was the time I would have a minor character coming in for the final few days of rehearsal, and Ethel would cast a star name and that actor would report on the first day. I remember that happening with Peter Lorre being cast to fill what was basically a minor role. All it took was a lot of imagination on Ethel’s part and the willingness of CBS to cough up the money.

In addition to Ida Lupino, Ross’ paramour for the show was Mala Powers, the lovely actress who had been Roxanne to Jose Ferrer’s CYRANO. Ida and Mala were close friends; Mala had appeared in the feature film, OUTRAGEOUS, that Ida directed. Unfortunately the two did not have any scenes together.

And then there was Patsy Kelly. What an original. Patsy had been in films at this point for thirty-five years, having come to Hollywood in 1931. Five years after this gig she would win a Tony on Broadway for her featured role in NO, NO NANETTE, the musical that brought Ruby Keeler back to the Great White Way. There is no other way to say it. They just don’t make them like that any more.

Old comedy films taught me a valuable lesson: comedy should be played in masters and two shots, not closeups.

When directing someone like Ida Lupino, you really don’t have to do much more than block in the action. But I couldn’t resist offering one suggestion. I thought Dr. Faustina, beyond her joy at the suitability of this corpse for the project she is about to do, she might also get an appreciative thrill as she feels his torso. Ida was delighted.

Ross was not the stunt man that Bob Conrad was. So the following dueling sequence had to be filmed taking that into consideration. The first musketeer was Jerry Sommers, an actor-stuntman-fencer. The other two musketeers were stuntmen. And a fourth stuntman was a double (and I think a very good photo double) for Ross. The script called for only one of the musketeers to be eliminated on the balcony. Two musketeers fenced Artemus into the ballroom. I decided to eliminate the second musketeer on the balcony so that the final battle was just Artemus against one musketeer.

I considered Ida Lupino one of the giants of the profession. Born in England to a show business family, she came to the United States at the age of sixteen and was signed to a contract by Paramount Pictures. At one point I believe she was set to star in their all star production of ALICE IN WONDERLAND, but that assignment did not happen. Hollywood lore has it that she donned the required wardrobe and stormed into William Wellman’s office and forced him to watch her perform a scene from his upcoming project, THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. She got the part and she was on her way. Signed by Warner Bros. she was the backup to their top woman star, Bette Davis. In fact she referred to herself as the poor man’s Bette Davis. Later she moved behind the cameras and became the only woman director in Hollywood, starting in the late forties and continuing for two decades. (Dorothy Arzner had been the sole woman behind the camera in the thirties, directing her last film in 1943). At this point Ida referred to herself as the poor man’s Don Siegel. She really was a terrific lady and I considered it an honor to have been able to work with her.

Have you been thinking that, considering Robert Conrad’s behavior, CBS was taking a stand and was using this script as a way to eliminate the character of James West, that the series was about to become THE WILD WILD GORDON?

The fight scene, unlike the dueling sequence at the ball, required MANY stunt doubles (for Dr. Faustina, Miklos, Artemus and the robot Artemus). Only Conrad didn’t have to be doubled. And I have to acknowledge the tremendous contribution to this sequence, in fact to all of the sequences in the lab, in fact to all of the sets for this production, of art director, Al Heschong.

Michael Garrison wanted me to stay on and direct more episodes of THE WILD WILD WEST. I was not available; I had signed a contract with Quinn Martin Productions for the 1966-67 season for multiple assignments on THE FBI. MIchael pleaded with me. He said Sammy Davis Jr. was signed to guest star and I could have that assignment. I repeated that I was already contractually obligated. THE NIGHT OF THE BIG BLAST was my last THE WILD WILD WEST. And three months later Michael Garrison died after a fall in his home.

THE NIGHT OF THE DRUID’S BLOOD - February 1966 (The Wild Wild West)

Filmed television in the 1960’s sometimes made for strange bedfellows. How else to explain my being booked to direct an episode of THE WILD WILD WEST. My resume at the time was loaded with films about neurotic, suffering people. Lots of angst. I had been tagged in a great many circles as being a “sensitive” director. Let me explain that in Hollywood that was not a compliment. And the script I was handed was for a film that Robert Conrad in his commentary on the released DVD album for the first season states, “This is definitely one of the more bizarre episodes of THE WILD WILD WEST.” I personally think my being hired was due to the Wild Wild Michael Garrison. I am not a television historian. What I report is what I knew from the scuttlebutt of the time. Michael Garrison had created and sold THE WILD WILD WEST to CBS. I am a little vague about whether he started off producing the series and was removed from the project; or whether, at the onset of production, he was denied the right to produce it. But late in that first season he managed to get himself installed to take charge as executive producer. Michael Garrison was an individual, a renaissance man; he was not cut from the same bolt as most producers in Hollywood.

This was my introduction to the great Gene Coon, producer of the series and writer extraordinaire. (I’ve already extolled the talents of Gene in my postings on STAR TREK.) It was on this series that Gene told me that because of the uniqueness of the series, he rewrote most of the scripts; that he used the writer’s first draft submission as a frame for him to build on. So let’s take a gander at his work; let’s take off on this bizarre adventure.

Professor Robey was acted by Don Beddoe. I did not realize at the time the extent of his experience. He was a true Hollywood veteran. At this time he had been in films for almost thirty years. He was a member of that vast army of talented performers I have spoken of who never achieved stardom, but whose face was recognizable because of the frequency of his appearances on the screen. With the advent of television he would continue to perform for almost two more decades. He died in 1991, just a half a year shy of his one hundredth birthday.

In the next clip Simon Scott was part of the new breed of Hollywood hopefuls, never a star but a formidable presence for many years on television and theatre screens. I had known Danny (his real name was Danny Simon) since 1955 when I did the lighting for a production of Maxwell Anderson’s SATURDAY’S CHILDREN at the Players Ring Theatre in Hollywood. Danny starred in the production. He was a superb actor and one I used very frequently in the following two decades.

The first day of filming went swimmingly. Almost ten pages completed right on schedule. It was a double reunion for me. The director of photography was Ted Voigtlander, who had filled in for Harkey Smith four years before on an episode of DR. KILDARE. And the art director for the series was Al Heschong, one of the alternating art directors those many years before on PLAYHOUSE 90. We did a half day of exteriors on the lot filming day for night and then a long sequence on one of the stages. The excitement and fun began halfway through the second day with the arrival of Don Rickles to play our mad magician. Those final four and a half days seemed more like a session in a Las Vegas showroom than a film set. Don was always on, with his incredibly sharp wit and acute skills of observation. It seemed almost no one was safe. Robert Conrad was not the tallest creature on the planet, but according to Rickles he barely reached the height of Billy Barty. Rickles was merciless. -- but funny. He had us all in stitches except when the cameras were rolling.

Rickles between shots was the funnyman in charge, but when it came time to perform for the camera, he was fanatically serious about his work.

This was my introduction to the great Rhys Williams, our Dr, Tristam. A few months later he would guest star in THE ASSASSIN, my favorite episode of THE FBI (see the archives to the right for that posting). And the following year he would guest star for me in the award winning THE TRAIN on MISSION IMPOSSIBLE (again you can check the archives to the right).

That first day’s exterior filming was on the CBS Studio Center lot in Studio City. And we filmed it day for night, which under some circumstance I find not only totally acceptable but preferable. If you have any light sources visible (street lamps, lit building windows) night for night is very effective. But if there is to be no light source other than moonlight, I prefer day for night.

I liked the way acts ended with the freeze frame that moved into a corner of the opening THE WILD WILD WEST billboard cartoon drawing.

The next sequence is an illustration of some fine detailed descriptive writing by Gene Coon. Let me show you the script for the sequence. (Again you can enlarge each page by tapping on it. To return click the black arrow in the upper left hand corner.)

Original scripts were printed on white paper. Revised pages were printed on colored paper with the revised date at the top of the page.

And now a look at how that was converted to film.

I remember that Michael Garrison was very impressed and vocal in his appreciation for the silo sequence. He kept saying, “That long sequence and with no dialogue.”

Conrad did all of his own stunt work. However he did not make that high leap from the pail to the girder overhead. We filmed him hanging from the girder and then dropping. In the editing room we reversed the film.

And I must point out the enormous contribution to this sequence by the fine photography of Teddy Voigtlander and the art direction of Al Heschong. Al really had his work cut out for him on this series. Unlike most series, there was only one standing set, the train that was home for James West and Artemus. It was not a large set and not many sequences were assigned to it. But that set, like all of Al’s work, was beautifully designed visually and gave the director fine opportunities for staging.

Have you noticed how literate this script is? So far there has been very little action -- a lot of dialogue, but good dialogue. Thank you, Gene Coon.

I would hate to count the number of real graveyards I worked in during my career. This graveyard was created by Al Heschong on Stage 12 of CBS Studio Center. This studio incidentally was the old Republic Studio where John Wayne (before he became a superstar) was under contract in the thirties, and where Vera Hruba Ralston tried to duplicate on ice the stardom achieved by Olympic champion Sonja Henie at Twentieth Century Fox. She didn’t!

The film breakup in the next clip is not your computer’s fault; it’s due to the age of my copy of the show.

Bob Conrad did all of his own stunt work in that sequence, in fact in all sequences. But we had a stunt double for Don Rickles. Don did do the closer angle shots, and I remember that he was not as adept physically as he was mentally. I especially remember the angle where he climbed into the chest and closed the lid. That bit of business as he did it, take after take, was almost as funny as some of his insulting dialogue. But we finally got it.

Did I say there hadn’t been any action? But good scripts shoud build. Sequences should get more exciting as the story moves along. And that’s what Gene Coon’s script did. Now let’s see how the action in that last sequence is topped by what follows.

Since I told you that Rhys Williams and I worked together again in a few months, I obviously did not burn him up in this scene. The burning coat was added in post production in the lab.

THE NIGHT OF THE DRUID’S BLOOD was the last black and white film I would direct.

THE WILD WILD WEST was set to return for its second season and in color. I was set to return and again I was going to have to deal with a mad scientist. But this time a much prettier one -- Ida Lupino. Next on RALPH’S TREK.

AN APPLE A DAY - July 1965 (The Fugitive)

AN APPLE A DAY was my third flight with THE FUGITIVE. But when I did my last posting, I chose to skip over it and go onto the fourth and final show I directed of that series. Quite frankly my intentions were that I would not be returning to report on the APPLE. But I’ve been thinking; just because i don’t remember the show too fondly, just because I consider it something of a misfire doesn’t mean it can’t provide some added insights into that early period in television production.

THE FUGITIVE was the only Quinn Martin series that used a climactic scene from the film as its teaser. There was a reason for doing that. All programs started on the hour or the half hour. It was considered imperative to grab the audience’s attention early and completely to discourage people changing channels. And most THE FUGITIVE scripts had quiet openings; no exciting committing of crimes like those that began episodes on THE FBI. So without further ado and before you decide to change channels, let’s get on with it.

Oddly, this was that rare episode that had an opening sequence that would have been strong enough to start the show.

THE FUGITIVE and THE FBI (which I would start directing later that season) both benefited by being produced in Southern California. The scripts for both series called for locations all over the United States. Southern California could supply the coast (east or west), the desert, the mountains, the flat plains of the midwest or any area of any city, large or small. And all within short driving distance from the studio. This episode was set in Colorado; we filmed it in the west end of the Valley -- I think it was Topanga Canyon. We had two and a half days of filming at the Hope Ranch and this opening sequence was shot in the hills near that location.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, David’s fall down the steep hill was done by his stunt double.

The farm lady (Mrs. Crandall) who comes to Kimble’s aid was one of my closest friends, Amzie Strickland. She and I arrived in Los Angeles at almost the same time -- the fall of 1954. I met Amzie in January, 1955 when I was in rehearsal for MY THREE ANGELS. She and Claudia Bryar had been schoolmates in Oklahoma, and she came to the Players Ring to audition for their following production of PICNIC (she got the part). She, the Bryars and I lunched at famous Barney’s Beanery just down the street from the theatre. I have to tell you my favorite story about Amzie. She came from New York where she had a very successful career acting in radio. Being a New Yorker, she didn’t know how to drive, and we all know you cannot survive in Los Angeles without being able to drive. So a friend, and I’m positive it was the writer Richard Breen, graciously agreed to teach her. And he did. Amzie bought a car and came the day when she took her test for her driver’s license. When she finished the test, she hopped in her car and sped over to Breen’s house, where she crashed through the fence on his property. He came rushing out of his house to hear Amzie proudly proclaim, “Dick, I PASSED THE TEST.”

My first contact with Arthur O’Connell was thirteen years prior to this in 1952 when I had my first professional job as assistant director at the Chevy Chase Summer Theatre in Wheeling, Illinois. The very first production was CHARLEY’S AUNT starring Robert Q. Lewis. Now if you ask, “Who is Robert Q. Lewis?” I will understand. But I don’t think you are going to ask that about some of the supporting cast. Arthur O’Connell. Tom Poston. Tom Bosley.

I hope by now you’re asking, “Why was he complaining about the quality of this show? I don’t think it’s that bad.” And that’s why I’m glad I’m putting it out. I don’t think it comes as a surprise that I am a big fan of actors . And I was continually amazed at their ability to flesh out not necessarily bad material, but script writing that was --let’s put it kindly -- bland!

Sheree North was such a good actress, an underrated actress. She was under contract to 20th Century Fox in the fifties, mainly as a backup for the studio for their recalcitrant Marilyn Monroe. Later in television she was given the chance to reveal the breadth of her talent. I remember that at the time we did this film, she had a slight quivering reminiscent of Katharine Hepburn’s Parkinson disease affliction. I don’t remember whether she and I discussed it; I’m not sure where the information came from. But I do remember I was very careful in checking to be sure that no take was infected by it. There were takes where the shaking would appear and I would look at her knowingly and say, “Let’s do it again, Sheree.” And she did. What a pro. I shudder to think how this role would have been acted in an Aaron Spelling production. As written I considered it the standard cliche film femme fatale. Shereee avoided playing just the sexuality of Marianne; she implied it with a fine sense of teasing humor.

As I stated earlier, we filmed the exterior of Josephus Adams’ residence at Nine Pines, the Bob Hope Ranch. Guess why they called it Nine Pines. Because there were nine tall pine tress on the property. And it was conveniently a honey producing establishment, which of course is why we chose it as our location.

The intent of this script was commendable. It purported to deal with the conflict between natural medicine and the medical profession. My own feelings were (and are) that those dealings tended to be superficial. It was a subject worthy of being explored in a social drama. The format for THE FUGITIVE prevented it from being no more than the background for the coming melodrama.

NIne Pines was a real honey producing operation. And our actors, clothed in the wardrobe of the workers at such an establishment, were dealing with REAL BEES.

This was Kim Darby’s first role after she turned eighteen and no longer had to go to school on the set and no longer had to be accompanied by an adult. Four years later she appeared with John Wayne in his Oscar-winning TRUE GRIT. And as I said, those were real bees on the combs in that scene. Between takes once, when Kim had taken off her gloves, a bee landed on her finger. She got slightly excited, but the bee was encouraged to depart before doing any damage.

The breakup in the film in the next clip is not your problem. It’s the fault of the old tape I’m using. We’re lucky it is limited to just that one instance.

The season before when I worked on TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH, I was very impressed with the sets designed for the productions. I was to learn that high quality would be a part of all Quinn’s productions. That was what he demanded. The interior of the ground floor of the Adams’ house was an example. At any other studio I’m sure there would have been a set for the living room with an entrance hall and a separate set for Josephus’ medical office. The set provided for me was one large connected set -- the entrance area with a large stairway to the second floor, then the large living room with a fireplace and connected to that was the outer and inner rooms where patients were seen. That set gave me the opportunity to stage Kimble’s exit as you will witness in the next clip.

I realize now that a key scene was missing from this script. At this point in the shooting script, KImble first has a conversation near the bus stop with a patient of Josephus; then he visits the county coroner who was a real medical doctor who had not been able to compete with Josephus' practice of natural medicine. Two talky scenes of exposition. How much more effective if these scenes could have been curtailed, and a scene included of the funeral service where Sharon breaks down emotionally as described by Marianne in the next clip.

The next clip is the complete sequence from which the teaser was extracted.

I wrote earlier of Quinn’s insistence on using process photography for cars in transit. I wanted a shot in the next sequence shooting across KImble at the wheel of his speeding truck as the police car catches up to him. The only way I could get that shot was to do it live. And since I was doing that live, I filmed the whole sequence live. I don’t remember any objections from the front office when the film was viewed.

And now a quiet ending for what has basically been a quiet show..

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS - August 1965 (The Fugitive)

In the olden days of early sixties television (and I’m positive at this late date that’s what they should be called) the producer and story editor of a dramatic series were the ones responsible for producing scripts. There were no large writing staffs such as I believe exist today. They interviewed free lance writers who came in to pitch story ideas. The rules of the Writers Guild were that the pitch should be no more than a long sentence. (I was not a member of the Writers Guild, so this is what I learned from writer friends and what I remember today of what I gleaned then.) If the pitch seemed potential, the writer would be given the go ahead to develop the idea into a full story. If the story proved satisfactory the writer would be given the go ahead to write the script. I bring all of this up because I think that is one of the reasons that a series like THE FUGITIVE could veer off into so many interesting and different directions. Sure there would be many of the usual variations on Les Miserables; but then occasionally someone would show up with an idea for an unusual relationship for Richard Kimble. I think that’s what happened to produce the story I’m presenting on this posting. So let’s go back to Piru, the location where I filmed part of my last posting, THE FAMILY NOBODY WANTED. But this is Piru nine years before that; this is Piru the first time I filmed there.

I consider film directing to be more complex than just putting the actors in their positions, shooting a wide angle master to establish where everyone is and then covering each actor with his close-up. My theatre training taught me to at least give the star an “entrance”. Plays in the past were written to do just that. I will never forget Katharine Cornell’s entrance in THAT LADY about sixty years ago. There was a large archway up center stage and after the exposition had been established in the first part of Act I, Miss Cornell swept into the archway opening, stopped and turned upstage to look over the balcony, then turned back to come into the archway, begowned to the hilt and with a black patch over one eye. THAT was an entrance! I couldn’t quite do that with David in this piece. But I didn’t want him to be seen as just a part of the establishing master shot. So he was conveniently seated hidden behind the cash register. The second shot in the sequence was from behind him to the cook. Finally his “entrance” into the story was the next shot -- a closeup of Richard Kimble.

Did you notice that cash register? And eggs, toast and coffee only cost sixty-one cents!

After my blog published the first two THE FUGITIVES, I received the following e-mail:

Mr. Senensky,

Looking forward to your 1965 episodes.

Passed thru Piru today with my wife.

Thought you'd like this photo comparison. Funny to note that a small film crew was toiling around the same intersection as you put Janssen thru his paces almost 45 years ago.

The suspension bridge from the episode is still there but is now blocked off and detoured around.

Then

For you THE FUGITIVE fans (and anyone else interested in Classic Television) I recommend you visit

THE DAVID JANSSEN ARCHIVE at http://www.davidjanssen.net

There were two requirements for Richard Kimble each week in order for the story to commence: a new name and a job.

And now we meet the reason this was an unusual episode.

And it was different in another way; my first two episodes had both been very dark -- in character and in the look of the films. This one was definitely lighter -- at least for now.

And now we have the final element in our story. In the absence of Barry Morse’s Lieutenant Gerard in pursuit of Kimble (and I never did get a chance to do an episode that involved Gerard), we have this story’s arm of the law in pursuit of him, this week's version of the original Javert from Les Miserables.

Those who have followed these postings astutely should recognize the cook, Don Hanmer. He was the dog trainer in SHADOW OF A STARLESS NIGHT on BREAKING POINT. The deputy is Harry Townes, another fine actor whose resume is almost a history of Classic Television -- live and film. Watching these two veterans can be a lesson in screen acting; notice their interplay BETWEEN the lines of dialogue.

According to the Internet Movie Data Base this was only Johnny Jensen’s fourth or fifth screen appearance. He worked as a child actor for a few more years and then disappeared from the profession. There is a Johnny Jensen on that data base listed as a current director of photography, but a little research showed they are different Johnny Jensens.

David deserves a lot of the credit for the believability in Johnny’s performance. When dealing with child actors, the goal is to keep them from acting. Just be yourself. Just say the words like you would say them. And LISTEN to the other actor. David’s overpowering charisma in a scene I think reenforced the youngster’s listening.

When working with child actors I did the same thing I often did with adult performers. In filming a closeup if the actor’s performance didn’t come alive emotionally until midway through the scene, rather than calling “cut” at the end and doing the next take, I would keep the camera rolling and have the actor start at the beginning. It worked for adults and it worked with the kids. One time on another production I did that while filming the closeup of the young boy. The adult man in the scene (who was playing off camera) questioned the necessity. He didn't like the extended take. I told him I wasn’t doing it to accommodate him, I was doing it for the boy. David never questioned that procedure.

The next plot requirement was when the law started closing in, someone had to justifiably help him.

And now the lighter look, both thematic and visual, starts to darken. Kenny’s cave was the conduit to make the transition.

The fourth day of filming started at the Highway Bus Stop sequence (it’s coming up) where we filmed two and an eighth pages. We moved back to Lois’ living room at the Goldwyn studio for two and seven eighths pages. There was an additional short scene of deputy Russ on the phone that didn’t get filmed that day. We ran out of time. The next day was a heavy scheduled shoot -- nine pages, which ended with a short night sequence off the lot. I remember I had Fred Ahern, the wonderful production manager, totally perplexed. The final sequence on stage was the following scene (the part in Kenny's cave), which was the longest scene of the day. The problem was we finished too early. There was too long a gap before it got dark, and Quinn refused to shoot day for night. I wrote before that I thought David, like Mickey Rooney, had a photographic memory. I remember before we started this sequence, David took the script and quickly looked it over. Then he and Georgann Johnson proceded to do the master and the two closeups in one take each. Fred’s perplexity came from the fact the day before we couldn’t finish six and a half pages in a full twelve hours and this day we finished almost nine pages in about seven hours.

Then we got to the part where young Johnny Jensen had to do some fairly difficult physical activity.

Have you ever wondered when viewing a scene like this, how did that young boy know the exact moment to open the door? There was a cue light right beside him. The wire of that light ran (out of the eye of the camera) right into my hand. When the proper moment arrived, I clicked on the button at my end of the wire, the light lit up at Johnny’s end and Kenny opened the door.

No, that wasn’t young Johnny Jensen jumping off of the moving truck. It was a stunt double.

The original script called for there to be a shack nearby that Kimble and Kenny would enter. When we scouted the location I saw the nearby abandoned gas station and saw that it was a more convenient substitution for what the script requested. The interior of course was constructed back at the studio. The interior of the abandoned station and the approaching nightfall provided the needed visual darkness for the rest of our story.

I’m afraid my references to the producers of the shows I did were not always favorable. That may have been a built-in factor of the director-producer relationship. But let me do a little straightening out of the facts here. Producers of television series had a tremendous responsibility. They not only had to feed the scripts into the pipeline, they were responsible for seeing that the scripts met the requirements of the series’ needs. One of the needs for this series was that once the snare around Richard Kimble seemed to insure his eventual capture, a reasonable escape from that entrapment had to be provided. I don’t think anyone fulfilled his overseeing of a series’ needs better than Alan Armer.

Ages ago I wrote: “It was said of Irving Thalberg: He didn’t make movies for people to see. He made movies for people to feel. Boy, do I believe in that!”

That was about my first television film direction in 1961. Four years later I had not changed my mind.

Johnny Jensen, wherever you are, you are now a man in his mid-fifties. Just know you still have a very devoted fan.

THE FAMILY NOBODY WANTED - Part Two

I had seen James Olsen in a production at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles. He was a powerhouse onstage in contrast to the rather bland actor I had considered him to be based on the roles he was given in films -- feature and television. Working with him on this production, I realized his range was even greater than I had anticipated.

The lesson I learned while directing A DREAM FOR CHRISTMAS certainly came in handy on this production. As I related when I did the posting on that show, there was a scene with a crying baby. The actors in the scene and I did everything short of child abuse to get the infant to cry, but all we got was giggles. The welfare worker on the set (and there always is one when children are working) took me aside and told me how to accomplish the deed. If someone quietly makes crying sounds near the baby, the infant then will start to cry. What I also discovered was that it didn’t work if I did it; it needed to be done by a woman -- I guess it was the higher pitch of her voice as compared to the male voice. So in the baby crying scenes in this film (and there were a lot of them) Shirley Jones inherited the task. She would get the baby crying, then move to her starting position to do her own emotional preparation for the scene. When she was ready, she would give me a nod and I would call action.

I directed many productions with child actors, but never did I have as many as in this production. Not counting Andy, the baby, there were eleven of them. As a result I didn’t really get to give them individually the attention I usually would. The only two that I did connect with were Willy Ames and Ernest Esparza (Donny and Rick), but I had worked with each of them before when they did guest spots on THE WALTONS. The reason I bring this up is even without that special attention, I think the kids did some remarkable work.

I wonder how many of you have realized the similarities between this story and A DREAM FOR CHRISTMAS, which I had filmed just a year before. The next clip is almost a replay of a scene I had directed with Hari Rhodes and Lynn Hamilton in the previous film.

I had a dinner table scene with Carl and all twelve kids. I requested that since the family was so financially strapped, the dinner plates should be varied, not a set. I wanted them all to be different colors. I realized this would add to the chores of the script supervisor, since for editing purposes the action from take to take had to match. I don’t know why, but I took a special glee in planning this. And once again I want to call attention to the young actors. Their discipline, their concentration -- "mob" scenes like the next clip can be frustratingly difficult. This one wasn't.

Beeson Carroll (Mr. Collins) had also guest starred for me before on THE WALTONS. In fact he was in the same episode as Willy Ames; he played Willy’s father.

For all my carping about Universal, I admit this time there didn’t seem to be their usual reticence with the pocketbook; in fact I think we mounted a very respectable production. The setting for the bazaar was on their back lot, and I certainly couldn’t complain about the number of extras to people the festivities.

Lindsay Workman (Judge) was another repeat performer for me. He had appeared in one of my favorite productions, THE MARATHON on THE WALTONS.

It seemed every studio’s backlot had an exterior courthouse with tall stone columns and wide steps. The fact that the Universal courthouse was far more imposing than our small community of Franklinburg would probably have had couldn’t matter. In television as far as courthouses went, one-size-fits-all.

Memo from Producer William Kayden

It is said that art imitates life. Wouldn't it be nice sometimes if it could be the other way around -- that life would imitate art, that everyone would live happily ever after, like in the movies. After the twelve children were grown Helen Doss and Carl Doss were divorced.

THE FAMILY NOBODY WANTED - December 1974

I wonder if it was a coincidence that after directing THE WALTONS in 1973, ensuing assignments included THE FAMILY KOVACK, THE FAMILY NOBODY WANTED, THE FAMILY HOLVAK and just plain FAMILY. I don’t think so.

THE FAMILY NOBODY WANTED was a 1954 memoir by Helen Doss relating the story of how she and her husband, Carl Doss, a minister, adopted twelve unadoptable children. The book was adapted into a PLAYHOUSE 90 in 1956; directed by John Frankenheimer it starred Lew Ayres and Nanette Fabray as the Doss couple. A further adventure of the Doss family was written in 1974 as a movie of the week. I was not involved with the earlier first season PLAYHOUSE 90 version; I didn’t join the company until its second season. As you are about to find out, I was very involved with the later incarnation.

We went to Piru, a quaint small community north of Los Angeles (where I had filmed portions of my last THE FUGITIVE) for the Doss family station wagon's arrival in Franklinburg. However the church they pass was in North Hollywood and the exterior of the parsonage was on the backlot of Universal studio. Finally the parsonage interior was on Stage 14.

This was a reunion for Shirley Jones and me. We had previously worked together on the seven PARTRIDGE FAMILY episodes I directed. And it was another outing for me and Claudia Bryar. I had met Claudia and husband, Paul Bryar (of whom I have already written extensively) in 1955 when they auditioned for a production of MY THREE ANGELS at the Players Ring Theatre in Hollywood. They performed in that play and the following year we joined forces again to do DEATH OF A SALESMAN at a small theatre in Santa Monica. I had been able to cast Claudia in several television films; this time I was thrilled that the role matched her capabilities. As you will see, Claudia is a magnificent actress.

This was the first (and unfortunately the only) time I worked with Woodrow Parfrey. His role walked such a fine line. He is the racist of the film. What must be remembered is that this story takes place in 1947, just two years after the war with Japan ended. If Elmer Franklin’s attitude to the children is difficult to condone, difficult to justify, I think it can at least be understood. What is more difficult for me is to realize that sixty-three years later, there are still so many Elmer Franklins around.

This was another reunion -- this time with Willie Ames, who played Donny. Earlier that season Willie had guest starred for me in an episode of THE WALTONS. Later we would work together again when he was one of the EIGHT IS ENOUGH.

The exterior and interior of the church was filmed on location at a First Christian Church on Saticoy Avenue in North Hollywood.

But before going to the church, let’s look at the script. (Tap on the image twice to enlarge it; tap the return to previous arrow in the upper left hand corner after you’ve finished). You will see filmed scene 19-A ended up on the cutting room floor. And in the church, I decided something visual was needed during the singing.

I have to take a moment here to comment on the kids in the Doss family. (I have a vague recollection that we had a last minute crisis and had to recast; I think the roles were Aram and Angela.) But those nine beautiful, young, innocent faces that so willingly and completely immersed themselves in the situations and LISTENED.

The director of photography for this production was Jack Woolf. This was the beginning of a long-running friendship; Jack and his wife, Lee, became close personal friends. Jack believed in heavy shadows in his photography. In fact he took pride that many of his closeups had half-lit faces.

Six years before I learned a valuable lesson. I was directing an episode of THE COURTSHIP OF EDDIE’S FATHER with six year old Jodie Foster guest starring as a tomboy. (I will discuss this eventuallly in my posting, but I have to refer to it here because of its relevance to the next sequence.) Something unexpected, but very funny, happened during the filming of a scene and I burst out laughing loudly as did the rest of the crew. Later in the editing room I realized had the take not been spoiled by the off camera laughter and my abrupt calling, “Cut,” I could have used the take if I adjusted the following activity with some changes. Now see if you can spot what I’m talking about.

Did you spot it? It was of course little Tina’s falling when she ran over the wet wallpaper. That wasn’t supposed to happen; the kids just ran through the scene. But once she fell, I added a shot of Helen on the ladder reacting and then filmed Carl’s picking up the crying child as he comforted her. It’s those unexpected accidents that add reality and entertainment to film. There is no way I would ever try to stage that kind of a fall with a child.

I’ve discussed this before, but I think it bears repeating. Not all film has to be doled out in short takes. I for one like to do extended masters. The following is an example of two very talented professionals playing the entire scene in one continuous shot. Only when Helen sits on the bed was a reverse angle filmed to be intercut with the master shot.

Ann Doran, the head of the orphanage, was another in that Hollywood army of performers who seemed to be in every other movie produced. During a career that spanned FIFTY-FOUR years (not counting a childhood appearance in a silent film) she acted in over five hundred films and a thousand television shows. She lived in Hollywood on the first street west of Ogden; her backyard abutted the backyard of Claudia Bryar, Mrs. Franklin in this production.

I can just hear you all thinking, “What happened to Ralph? Was he sick? Is he sick? He hasn’t found one thing about this production to beef about.” Well fasten your seat belts; here it comes. This film was long when I turned my director’s cut over to the producer. I would not have been permitted to make major cuts in the film at that time. I was stunned when I viewed the final cut that you just viewed. It was the final answer print and it was too late to make any additional changes. What I considered an obligatory scene had been excised. Here is that scene. (Start with scene 49. Again, tap on the image to enlarge; tap on the return arrow in the upper left hand corner to return.)

I knew there was a better way to solve the over length problem. I have not included the film clips here of two long scenes between Mrs. Bittner, a social worker (you saw her sit down in the church as Carl Doss was speaking), who came to the Doss home and in two scenes with Helen questioned at length the compulsive reasons for her adopting so many children. In addition there was a very long scene on the same topic between Helen and Carl. Those scenes could have been carefully shortened to provide the two minutes needed to retain the bus station scene. The inclusion of this scene would have shown that Helen had brought home three children instead of just a baby. It still comes as a shock to me when in the following scene Rick walks in with Donny. And poor Lynette gets lost; later (as in the next clip) when she does appear, the viewer can’t be blamed for not knowing who she is.

To be continued