1971-72: The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same
  • The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same (1971-72)

    "This is the big one!"

    - Fred Sanford, "Sanford and Son"

    The 1971-72 season was the first of the "Modern TV" era, though several later analysts would, with characteristic pretentiousness, describe this period in television as subsumed within the greater "New Hollywood" movement; but this would be an overly simplistic generalization. Certainly, the continued presence of the Standards & Practices departments at all three commercial networks, coupled with strong regulations by the FCC, prevented the spread of explicit sexual content and violence from the big screen to the small one. For example, "porno chic", a movement which was on the rise in American cinema at the time, would have no equivalent in television. Even the most controversial show on the air, Those Were the Days, didn't dare show their characters moving beyond first base. Furthermore, producers still lacked the creative freedom enjoyed by filmmakers, and were tethered to strict budgets and tough scheduling deadlines. Some of the studios were more indulgent than others, but there was still a tremendous difference between how they handled weekly series and how they handled major motion pictures. It was no coincidence that the most indulgent studio wasn't even in the movie business.

    The three commercial networks were forced to adapt to the new twenty-one hour primetime schedules, and some of them were coping better than others. CBS, despite having cancelled nearly two-fifths of their 1970-71 lineup, seemed to be taking it the best, though any potentially dissenting voices were tightly muzzled by Fred Silverman, who took to describing his leaner, meaner network as "a new CBS for a new era of television", helping to cement the idea of a dividing line between "Classic TV" and "Modern TV" within the industry.

    NBC executives found themselves torn. They had 11 Top 30 hits for the season, more than any other network; [1] but their programming choices were, to say the least, erratic. All three of their major Westerns (which, by the early 1970s, were considered a "dinosaur" genre) remained on the air, but at the same time, they carried the most racially diverse lineup on television. Their top-rated show (ranked #2 overall in both 1970-71 and 1971-72) was a variety program starring a black comedian, Flip Wilson; he was described by Time Magazine, in their January 31, 1972 issue, as "TV's First Black Superstar". This designation was playfully challenged by Bill Cosby, a frequent guest on Wilson's show, who also starred on an eponymous series (a sitcom) [2] on NBC, resulting in the famous "Battle of the Superstars" sketch. Many observers noted that, although there had been no black performers in recurring, non-stereotypical roles on television just seven years before, now there were two big TV stars, both of whom were very popular with white audiences. And this disregarded the other shows on NBC with black leads: "Julia", starring Diahann Carroll [3], and, partway through the season, a new series with a largely black cast: "Sanford and Son". It starred another black comedian, Redd Foxx, and also gained traction with white audiences, becoming the highest-rated new show of the year. Indeed, even a program with the racial composition of Star Trek - a small contingent of minority characters in supporting roles - considered radical and progressive just five years before, was, if not quite commonplace, then at least far from unusual. Even the long-running western, "Bonanza", was well-known for its sympathetic portrayals of minority characters.

    But, as in society in general, for all the advances that had been made, the struggle to win hearts and minds was ongoing, and there continued to be setbacks. Critics of racial integration, and indeed, any non-stereotypical depiction of African-American characters, made their opinions known about their increased presence on television. Though ABC and CBS also had a minority presence, they were most visible on NBC, and thus they were the primary target of detractors; they even targeted Star Trek, which was now in syndication, and no longer had anything to do with the network (though many affiliated stations would air the show on weekdays at 7:00 PM). The famous claim that NBC was the network of "Negroes, Blacks, and Coloreds" [4] (which, sadly, was actually the bowdlerized term) also dates from this era; it was popularly attributed to then-Governor of Alabama, staunch segregationist, and past (and future) Presidential candidate, George Wallace, though this is almost certainly apocryphal. [5] Indeed, the harshest media critics of minority representation tended to focus more strongly on television, having effectively "ceded" any aspirations for reversals in the movies. For in addition to Porno Chic, another famous trend of the early 1970s, Blaxploitation, was riding high. For the first time, movies made by black filmmakers and intended for black audiences were being produced on a large scale, though the nature of much of its content was morally ambiguous - indeed, the genre was stereotyped as featuring drug dealers, pimps, and gangsters, all going about their business and fighting against "The Man" (invariably white, and often corrupt law enforcement). The truth, as is always the case, was more nuanced and complex. But without question, the genre stuck a chord with audiences. One of the most famous Blaxploitation films, Shaft, won Isaac Hayes an Academy Award for Best Original Song, making him the first person of colour to win an Oscar for any discipline other than acting; he would later dedicate his win to "the black community". On the whole, if minority representation in the media could be taken as a microcosm of their overall place in society, there was cause for optimism, but there was still plenty of progress yet to be made.

    As always, in the face of dramatic societal changes, life continued to go on in the television industry, especially at those two neighbouring studios in Culver City. Herbert F. Solow's promotion to SEVP and COO of Desilu necessitated a shake-up among the line positions at the company, most obviously in creating a need to hire his replacement as Vice-President in Charge of Production. Solow suggested his close friend, and a proven administrative talent, Robert H. Justman, for the position; Lucille Ball accepted this proposition, and he was immediately hired. From then on, and despite all the care and attention that he had devoted to Star Trek, Justman would now have to juggle the interests of the three other shows currently running, as well as the various pilots that the studio was developing, in order to have another show on the air for the 1972-73 season. Gene Roddenberry was one of the several producers to come to Desilu with a pitch, hoping to renew his association with the "House that Paladin Built", and was optimistic about his odds, given his friendships with Solow, Justman, and Ball. They all liked his pitch, about a man from the present day, flung forward in time by an unfortunate accident [6], but they also remembered the difficulties in getting Star Trek off the ground first-hand. It was Justman who eventually suggested selling the idea as a pilot movie, allowing them to recoup as much of their potential losses as possible. This meant that any series would not begin airing until at least the 1973-74 season, which obviously displeased Roddenberry a great deal; in exchange for this setback, Solow offered him the chance to develop another pilot, with the potential of ultimately having two shows on the air at the same time. Gene, who despite the lofty ideals of his most famous creation, was himself rather avaricious, jumped at the opportunity.

    What was now the undisputed senior show in the Desilu stable, "Mission: Impossible", continued into its sixth season apace. The previous two-year contract with Martin Landau and Barbara Bain had expired, but a new one was drawn up with surprising ease, given the resources that had been freed up by the conclusion of Star Trek. Nonetheless, Landau and Bain continued to drive a hard bargain, and it was decided by all parties - led by the notoriously frugal Justman, in his first major decision as VP of Production - that this two-year extension would be the last. This essentially meant that the show would be finished after that, for who would want to go on without Rollin Hand and Cinnamon? [7] But despite securing their continued presence, the show did not go on without one major casualty: Peter Lupus, having grown weary of his role, was unable to come to terms in re-negotiations; his departure marked the end of the "classic" lineup, which lasted for four seasons. He was replaced by Sam Elliott [8] for the remainder of the show's run.

    But one of the studio's primary challenges came from the question of how to handle the incoming footage from Doctor Who, which Desilu - under the terms of their syndication deal with the BBC - were now obliged to compile into the final product. Here it was Solow who devised the winning solution: dedicated post-production facilities, staffed by the now-unemployed effects artists and editors who had worked on Star Trek. Such a facility could function as a separate division of the studio, and it would be able to generate revenue; for in addition to keeping the post-production work for Desilu in-house, they could also accept work from outside sources. Ball, for her part, wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the idea, but she trusted the judgment of her key lieutenant, and agreed to establish what would become known as Desilu Post-Production. All of the post-production workers for the various shows being produced were to work out of this division, and be "assigned" to a given series as needed; in practice, this new bureaucratic arrangement had very little effect on the average editor's day-to-day life. Solow also hired a few additional technicians to accommodate the work coming in from outside the studio; one of the handful of editors brought on board was a young woman named Marcia Lucas. [9]

    Meanwhile, at Paramount, the company had more good news to report when "Room 222", once on the brink of cancellation, had risen into the Top 30 for the 1971-72 season, alongside their established hit, "Mary Tyler Moore". Their two other shows, "Barefoot in the Park" and "The Odd Couple", continued to do well enough to justify their continued renewal; so Grant Tinker, whose creative juices were always flowing, decided to develop a fifth series. He commissioned a pilot from two "Mary Tyler Moore" writers, Lorenzo Music and David Davis, in the hopes of creating another star vehicle for another popular entertainer of the 1960s: button-down comedian Bob Newhart.

    At the Emmy Awards for that season, held in May, 1972, Elizabeth R, produced by the BBC and aired by PBS in the United States, won the Award for Outstanding Dramatic Series. It was the first time in six years that Desilu did not win the award; the star of the series, Oscar-winning actress Glenda Jackson, also received an Emmy for her performance as the Virgin Queen. On the Comedy side of the ledger, Those Were the Days repeated for Series, as did Jean Stapleton for Lead Actress; this time, Carroll O'Connor also won, for Lead Actor, as did their onscreen daughter, Penny Marshall, for Supporting Actress. (The fourth cast member, Richard Dreyfuss, was not eligible in any category; the relevant category, Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series, was first awarded at the following year's ceremony.) "The Flip Wilson Show" repeated for Outstanding Variety Series, and Star Trek was presented with a Special Emmy Award in recognition of its creative achievements throughout its run, which was accepted by the show's producers. [10] This combination of fresh faces and continuity at the awards ceremony was clearly reflective of the television landscape as a whole...

    ---

    [1] IOTL, NBC had eight Top 30 hits this season, including the mid-season pick-up "Sanford and Son", and three in the Top 10 (again including "Sanford"); ABC had eight in the Top 30, and two in the Top 10; CBS had fourteen in the Top 30, and five in the Top 10.

    [2] "The Bill Cosby Show" ran from 1969 to 1971 IOTL. More favourable scheduling results in the show remaining in the Top 30 for its second season, which allows it to come back for a third. This provides the opportunity for the "Battle of the Superstars" sketch, which does not exist IOTL. Among other things, this also means that Cosby will not join the cast of "The Electric Company".

    [3] "Julia" also benefits from better scheduling, and therefore better ratings, narrowly making the Top 30; it also returns for a fourth season, after which it will reach the magic 100 episodes and become eligible for syndication.

    [4] This term was never used IOTL; here, the continued run of "Bill Cosby" and "Julia" on NBC in addition to "Flip Wilson", and now "Sanford" as well, along with the enduring legacy of Star Trek (and "Bonanza"), is enough to give the network an (exaggerated) reputation as "the black network", similar to OTL FOX in the early 1990s, and then UPN at the turn of the millennium.

    [5] No, Wallace did not coin the term ITTL; the accusation that he did was thrust upon him in the 1972 election campaign, and given his apathy and, when pressed, half-hearted denials regarding the subject, it became popular to assume that he had, in fact, said it.

    [6] The pitch being described is the same basic premise as Genesis II, which only got as far as the pilot movie phase IOTL. It was later completely re-worked, developed and (originally) produced by Robert Hewitt Wolfe, and aired as "Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda". (And yes, the premise is also very similar to a certain mostly-comedic cartoon series.)

    [7] The correct answer to that question is: the people of OTL, who continued to watch "Mission: Impossible" for four seasons after the departure of Landau and Bain - longer, in fact, than their three season tenure. Among their replacements was Leonard Nimoy, who had just been fired from Star Trek; famously, all he had to do to get to his new job was just walk across the lot.

    [8] IOTL, Elliott joined the cast during season six, but audiences didn't take to his character; Lupus was eventually brought back, with the promise of a meatier role. ITTL, with the continuing presence of Landau and Bain, he won't be missed nearly as much.

    [9] Yes, that Marcia Lucas.

    [10] Most of the Emmy wins here are as IOTL, with two exceptions: Marshall, a better actress than Struthers, wins her Emmy outright instead of Struthers sharing it in a tie with Valerie Harper; and "Flip Wilson" wins for Variety Series over "The Carol Burnett Show". (And, obviously, Star Trek did not win a Special Emmy IOTL.)

    ---

    So here we are with another look at the sociopolitical situation of TTL in the early 1970s! Part of my motivation in making this update was to remind everyone that this is not a utopia - race relations are generally better, and that's duly reflected on television (in the movies less so, given the existence of Blaxploitation as a "release valve"), but there's going to be resistance, and people weren't as eager to be politically correct in the early 1970s. Humphrey is going about desegregation ITTL in much the same way that Nixon did IOTL, only he's a lot louder about it; and people tend to fight back a lot harder when they're up against the wall.

    I hope that you all find some of the plot threads I'm developing here to be intriguing. It's all going to build rather slowly and deliberately compared to the (relatively) fast pace of the early years, but I still don't see my update schedule falling below approximately one update per week. So, until next time, thank you all for reading, and I will greatly appreciate your comments on this and all other posts!
     
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    Appendix A, Part V: Star Trek Miscellany
  • Appendix A, Part V: Star Trek Miscellany

    Welcome to the first of two "epilogue" updates with regards to the development, history, and legacy of Star Trek ITTL. (As always, editorial notes and comparison points to OTL will be highlighted in RED and placed in brackets.) This first post will cover the program history from a trivia and statistical perspective, or what I like to call the "Wikipedia approach"...

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    Star Trek Title Card.png
    The title card for Star Trek. (For all five seasons.)

    Star Trek
    was in development from March 11, 1964, to July 5, 1971. In that time, two pilots, 130 regular episodes, four serial episodes (a pair of two-part stories), and one feature-length finale were produced. The syndication package for the series contained 135 episodes; this excluded the unaired original pilot, "The Cage", as well as the two-part crossover with Doctor Who, which was already part of that program's syndication package. The series finale, "These Were the Voyages", was itself split into two separate episodes for syndication. The nice, round number of 135 that resulted was enough to last for 27 weeks (just over half a year) in standard "stripped" syndication.

    The Cast of Characters
    (The characters are going to be listed by number of appearances per the 135 syndicated episodes, though a total of 138 were produced. These three "lost episodes" are all archived at Desilu, with the Star Trek version of the crossover becoming a bootleg favourite.)

    William Shatner portrayed James Tiberius Kirk (his middle name, revealed on TAS IOTL, was here revealed in the fourth season), and appeared in every episode to be produced, with the exception of the original pilot (in which 1950s matinée idol Jeffrey Hunter had played Captain Christopher Pike). The Commanding Officer of the USS Enterprise for the entire run of the series, he held the rank of Captain until the series finale, at which time he was promoted to Commodore, and assigned command of a new vessel, the Excelsior. As a character, Kirk had a singular passion for his command and an almost perverse love for his ship. Boisterous and charismatic, he was devoted to his crew, but always kept a certain professional distance from all but his closest friends, Spock and Bones. He was also known for his love of women, frequently seducing them or enjoying their company, though his ship and his crew always came first. His larger-than-life portrayal by Shatner, though idiosyncratic to say the least, somehow suited the character perfectly. (Shatner, on the whole, does a better job of Kirk ITTL. Certainly, he can act when he really tries, and he's got more reason to try here.)
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: Tendency to speak with a peculiar cadence; difficult to describe but easy to imitate

    Leonard Nimoy played the half-Vulcan (his father was a Vulcan and his mother a Human), Mister Spock. The character's surname, never revealed during the run of the series proper (due to claims of being "unpronounceable"), was half-jokingly listed as "Xtmprsqzntwlfb" in production notes. (as per OTL; D.C. Fontana is credited with this facetious creation.) Nimoy, like Shatner, appeared in all episodes to air, but also appeared in the original pilot (where he was given the show’s very first line: "Check the circuit"). Spock is initially described as a Lieutenant Commander during the first season, but is quietly "promoted" to full Commander by the second. He serves as both Science Officer and First Officer throughout the show's run. Spock is promoted to Captain, and is assigned command of the Enterprise, on which he has served for his entire career, in the series finale. The character is known for his stoic nature and adherence to the Vulcan philosophy of logic; though he often feigns lack of capacity for Human emotion, it is clear that he feels very deeply. His closest friends on the ship are Kirk, Scotty, and Uhura. His relationship with Bones is famously antagonistic, but affectionately so; Nurse Chapel, on the other hand, longs for him, which he very awkwardly tries to accommodate in his dealings with her.
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: Overuse of the words "logical" (or "illogical") and "fascinating"

    DeForest Kelley was Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy. (Canonically, his middle name is only the letter "H", though "Horatio" was intended. But this was introduced much later than the run of the series IOTL.) From the Southern United States, his exact birthplace was never revealed, though he was said to have completed his undergraduate studies at the University of Georgia, the home state of the actor portraying him. (As opposed to Ole Miss, his OTL alma mater.) Kelley joined Shatner and Nimoy in the show’s opening titles from the second season onward, and appeared in every episode produced during this tenure. He missed four episodes in the first season, including the second pilot, for a total of 131 appearances. (He also appeared in both halves of the crossover.) Two of these absences bear mentioning: "Where No Man Has Gone Before" is the only episode to feature Scotty but not McCoy; "Errand of Mercy" is the only one to feature Kor but not McCoy. The good Doctor served as Chief Medical Officer aboard the Enterprise, holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander (though, as CMO, he was outside of the command hierarchy, which he often held over his ostensible "superiors"). At the end of the series, he resigned his Commission to return to Earth in order to be with his daughter, Joanna. As a character, McCoy was primarily shaped by his interactions with others, and his friendships with Kirk, Scotty, Uhura, and Nurse Chapel were all important. (The friendship with Uhura was borne out of the close friendship between Kelley and Nichols; it was also a subtle but effective way to demonstrate racial harmony, given their respective heritage.) However, it was his legendary rivalry with Spock that came to define both characters.
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: "He's dead, Jim" (uttered, in that exact construction, over a dozen times, with variants used at least twice as often); "I'm a doctor, not a..." (heard about as frequently); various racist insults toward Spock

    James Doohan played Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, a Scotsman from Aberdeen. (Later episodes confirm the obvious reference to Aberdeen as the place of his birth, from "Wolf in the Fold".) Doohan was absent from fifteen episodes of the series total, including a whopping twelve in the first season. From the third season onward, he appeared in every episode; these declining absentee records are reflective of the character’s increasing importance over time. (He also appeared in both halves of the crossover.) Scotty, as he insisted on being called (in casual situations, he accepted only Spock referring to him as Mr. Scott), was established as third-in-command of the Enterprise during the first season, and held the position of Chief Engineering Officer. A Lieutenant Commander for the first three seasons, he was promoted to full Commander in the fourth. He then became the First Officer of the Enterprise, on which he had served for most of his career, in the series finale. An incredibly talented engineer and repairman, Scotty had a knack for saving the day just in the nick of time. The warmest character on the show, he had friendly relationships with most of his crewmates. He and Bones were established as drinking buddies, often exchanging bemusement at the chains of command that bound their Captain and First Officer. Scotty viewed Chekov as something of a protégé, and Kyle as a trusted lieutenant. As both he and Uhura were very gregarious people, they also got along handsomely. He and Spock were established as having served on the Enterprise together prior to Kirk assuming command, and their relationship was one of implicit trust and co-operation. His relationship with Kirk was oddly stiff and formal, especially by the standards of two such exuberant characters, but befitting of Kirk’s failure to relate to any of his crew not named "Spock" or "Bones". (James Doohan seemed too much of a professional to let his hatred for Shatner get in the way of his performance, though even IOTL, it's strange how distant the two characters are. Here it's even more glaring, because Scotty gets along with everyone else.)
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: (Phony) Scottish accent; complaining that he cannot possibly meet the Captain's needs, and then managing to do so anyway; complaining that the ship cannot endure much more of whatever pressure it is under, and then helping it to do so

    Nichelle Nichols was Penda Uhura, from East Africa. (After 40 years, "Nyota", meaning "star", finally became canon IOTL with the reboot film. However, early fanon seems to have preferred "Penda", meaning "love", instead, so that's what prevails ITTL.) Vague and contradictory evidence was given on her exact birthplace, with Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda each implied in different episodes. All were consistent with her mother tongue of Swahili. Though Nichols missed at least one episode every season, she appeared in 121 out of 135 total, one more than Doohan (120), putting her in fourth place in overall appearances. (Nichols also appeared in more episodes than Doohan IOTL, at 68-to-65.) The character of Uhura was the Communications Officer, and was said to be fluent in many languages, including alien ones. (In contrast to the OTL character, who never bothered to learn the language of one of the galaxy's major powers.) For the first three seasons, she held the rank of Lieutenant, and was promoted to Lieutenant Commander in the fourth season. She was also the ship’s Fourth Officer, putting her at fifth in the overall chain of command behind Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and Sulu. (Implied in "Bem", this is explicitly confirmed in "The Lorelei Signal".) Known for her beautiful singing voice and sassy charm, she was very popular among all of her crewmates. But in dangerous situations, she proved herself a capable and skilled officer. Perhaps her most important friendship was with Nurse Chapel, though she got along with just about everybody on the ship, including Spock, Bones, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov.
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: "Hailing frequencies open"; singing (which she does in about a dozen episodes)

    George Takei portrayed Walter Sulu. (Walter was apparently planned as his name, but it never came to be IOTL, with "Hikaru" prevailing instead. ITTL, this means that two characters have the name of a different actor.) The character, meant to represent all of Asia, as Uhura represented all of Africa, was (like Takei) born in California, but his precise ethnic origins were deliberately never revealed. Takei appeared in as many episodes in the first season as Doohan (including the second pilot; they, along with Shatner and Nimoy, were the only ones to appear there and carry over into the series proper). Takei was absent from a number of second-season episodes due to his commitment to film The Green Berets with John Wayne. All told, he appeared in 104 episodes out of 135. (He also appeared in one of the two crossover episodes.) The ship’s helmsman, he was initially a Lieutenant for the first three seasons. He was then promoted to Lieutenant Commander for the fourth. He was also the ship’s Third Officer, fourth-in-command behind Kirk, Spock, and Scotty. Sulu was notorious for his serial hobbyism; he had a different interest in almost every episode. Known for his light and breezy wit, somewhat less cutting and sarcastic than that of Spock, he was good friends with Chekov, and the two of them occasionally served as a Greek chorus on the episode’s events (as in "Amok Time"). He was also friendly with Uhura, though the crush he seemed to have on her in earlier episodes never really went anywhere. (The writers eventually decided that Uhura wouldn't go any further with any male character than innocent flirtation. As IOTL, Sulu never gets a love interest throughout the show's run, for reasons that are obvious to us in retrospect, despite Takei's protestations.)
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: "Well, I've always been a fan of..." (insert fleeting hobby here), or similar

    Walter Koenig played Pavel Andreievich Chekov. He was born in Leningrad, Russia ("Soviet Union", a political term, was eschewed in favour of the geographical "Russia"). (And as far as you know, "Leningrad" may never become an obsolete term ITTL.) Koenig joined the cast in the second season, and was bolstered by the absence of Takei for much of it, being given his lines in many episodes. Indeed, he appeared in more of them (90) in the last four seasons than Takei (87). (Like Takei, he appeared in only one of the two crossover episodes.) Serving as the ship’s Navigator, Chekov was introduced as an Ensign, and was promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade after two seasons. In the series finale, he was then promoted again, to full Lieutenant. Of all the other characters, only Spock was also promoted twice over the course of the series. Accordingly, Chekov was characterized as a callow but bright young officer. Like Scotty, he was intensely proud of his homeland, though perhaps somewhat too intensely. He was on good terms with most of the other officers – with Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura all taking a particular shine to him; even Spock had a soft spot for him.
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: (Phony) Russian accent; describing something as having been "inwented in Russia" or as a "Russian inwention"

    John Winston portrayed Mr. Kyle, whose first name was never revealed over the course of the series. The character, like the actor, was of English extraction, though his home county was never revealed. (Winston himself is from God's Own Country, Yorkshire - Leeds, to be specific - though of course, he doesn't sound like he is.) Winston appeared in every season, though he made only a few brief appearances in the first. He became a regular in the second, appearing in at least half the episodes produced from the third season onward, for a total of 67 episodes out of 135. (In addition to both halves of the crossover, given his English heritage and resultant popularity in the UK.) He served as Transporter Chief, though he was something of a jack-of-all-trades and was also seen on the Bridge and in the Engine Room, often assisting Scotty in the frequent event of a stranded landing party. He held the rank of Lieutenant throughout the show’s run, finally promoted to Lieutenant Commander in the series finale. As a character, he functioned largely as a "straight man" to those around him; he wasn’t really developed to the same extent as his crewmates. (In other words, he is developed to the same level as everyone who was not Kirk, Spock, Bones, and Scotty IOTL.) He was helpful, dependable, and versatile, but these were primarily job descriptions, not personality ones. His closest friendship was probably with Scotty, in the sense that they often worked together. Famously, Kirk consistently mispronounced his name as "Cowell". (Per OTL, from the episode "The Immunity Syndrome", or The One with the Giant Space Amoeba.)
    Catchphrase or verbal tic: "Transporter malfunction!", or various, less succinct words to that effect

    Majel Barrett, Gene Roddenberry’s mistress, was Nurse Christine Chapel, a "consolation" role handed to her after the network rejected her for the role of "Number One" in the original pilot. As Chapel, she appeared in 58 out of the 135 regular episodes, through all five seasons. She served as Head Nurse, and though her initial rank was unclear, she was firmly established as a full Lieutenant in the later seasons. A sweet but rather shy and withdrawn character, her most important relationships were with her bosses, Dr. McCoy and M'Benga, her best friend Uhura (whom she alone usually addressed as "Penda"), and Spock, for whom she obviously carried a torch. The "romance" between the two characters was deliberately awkward, an oddly realistic touch that added to the resonance and appeal of the characters.

    Diana Muldaur played Ann Mulhall. Featured in a single episode of the second season, both the actress and the character were sufficiently popular to lead to repeat appearances, with D.C. Fontana championing her as part of a recurring "clique" of female characters. She appeared in 23 episodes out of 135. Working in various roles in the Science Department, she held the rank of Lieutenant Commander throughout her run on the show. She interacted primarily with the other women on the crew – Uhura, Chapel, and Martine – along with her boss, Mr. Spock. Like both Spock and the original "Number One" character, she was cool, collected, and calm under pressure.

    Barbara Baldavin, the wife of casting director Joseph D’Agosta, portrayed Angela Martine. She started out largely as a "placeholder", with the actress filling various roles as needed. Her characterization in "Balance of Terror", as a young woman who worked in a tactical role on the ship, eventually prevailed, and her title became Tactical Officer. She appeared in 24 out of 135 episodes, absent only from the second season. Her initial rank, like her initial role, was unclear, but she was eventually established as a Lieutenant. A frequent pinch-hitter for both Sulu and Chekov, she was on good terms with both of them, as well as the other three women in the primary "clique" – Uhura, Chapel, and Mulhall. But on the whole, Martine was known for her friendliness, and got along with just about everyone.

    Booker Bradshaw was Dr. M'Benga who, like Uhura, was of East African extraction. He appeared in 11 episodes out of 135. His role in the series was to serve as backup to McCoy whenever he was part of the landing party. He held the rank of Lieutenant throughout the show's run. He interacted primarily with his departmental co-workers, McCoy and Chapel, as well as Spock, his primary patient.

    Byron Morrow played James Komack, Vice-Admiral, Starfleet Command. (Komack is named for the actor/director who worked on Star Trek, though IOTL, only his last name was revealed over the course of the series, and his precise rank was never specified.) Often mentioned, he made ten proper appearances over the course of the series, including in both halves of the series finale. In all but the very last of these, he was a talking head on a viewscreen. He served as Kirk's direct superior, and most of the Enterprise's orders were sent through him. He was generally portrayed as a reasonable, if stern and occasionally unyielding, authority figure. Though there was a tension between he and Kirk, it was tempered by obvious mutual respect. (Thus the OTL "evil Admiral" cliché lacks a sturdy foundation ITTL.)

    Grace Lee Whitney provided the role of Yeoman Janice Rand for ten episodes (all in the first season). This threshold, shared with two other recurring characters, is named the "Rand line" in her honour; those appearing more often were semi-regulars, and those appearing less often were merely recurring characters. Rand was the final incarnation of a character type involved from the very beginning: the female Yeoman who finds herself engaged in romantic tension with her Captain. Whitney's departure from the series was both acrimonious and mysterious: either it was because she had been sexually abused by multiple executives; she was falling into drug and alcohol addiction; the need for a permanent love interest for Kirk was deemed unnecessary; or some combination of the three. (Appearing in 10 out of 135 is nowhere near as significant as 10 out of 79, and ITTL the character of Rand is about as well-remembered as Kyle is IOTL.)

    Miko Mayama played Yeoman Tamura, appearing in ten episodes (skipping both the second and the third seasons entirely). Brought back to increase the minority presence on the show, she had no specific role on the ship, and no set characterization. However, her most developed part was in the fifth-season episode "Cassandra", which established her as somewhat withdrawn and clumsy, but good-natured.

    John Colicos essayed the role of the nefarious Klingon Captain Kor, who featured in eight episodes (with at least one appearance per season). Wily and devious, he viewed himself as Kirk's arch-nemesis, vowing that the two would one day meet in a final confrontation, which only one of them would survive; for one of them was destined to kill the other. (Kor thus realizes the writers' dream, IOTL and ITTL, for a recurring rival character.) His death in the grand finale (where he appeared, in both parts) proved his ultimate valour.

    Roger C. Carmel appeared as Harcourt Fenton "Harry" Mudd five times, once per season. The character, an unapologetic scroundel, was made memorable through Carmel's incredibly hammy performance. The fifth season episode "Cyrano de Mudd" inevitably paired him with the show's other smuggler character: Cyrano Jones, played by Stanley Adams, who appeared three times altogether.

    Mark Lenard played Vulcan Ambassador Sarek, the father of Spock, five times over the course of the show's run, including in the first part of the series finale (at his request). Lenard had come to the attention of producers in his memorable role as the Romulan Commander in "Balance of Terror", and was even considered a leading candidate to replace Leonard Nimoy, had contract negotations fell through. Lenard was joined on three occasions by Jane Wyatt, who portrayed Amanda Grayson, Spock's Human mother. The relationship between the two was both appealing and resonant, thanks to the strong acting and low-key chemistry between the two actors. Their complex relationship with their son, on the other hand, perfectly illustrated the show's emphasis on character interaction and development.

    Behind-the-Scenes

    The most frequent writer was D.C. Fontana, who is credited for having written 21 episodes over the course of the show’s run. In second place behind Fontana was Gene L. Coon, who is credited for having written 16. The two officially collaborated on "Bondage and Freedom" (story by Roddenberry), the two parts of "Lords of Time and Space" (with Terrance Dicks and Robert Holmes), and the grand finale, "These Were the Voyages" (story by Roddenberry). (That's a combined 35 out of 135, or 37 out of 138, depending on which episodes you count. Either way, that's good for more than one-quarter of the total produced between them.)

    Other frequent writers include Gene Roddenberry (though mostly for story ideas; he had not written any teleplays since the first season); David Gerrold (officially credited for nine episodes, having done uncredited re-write work on many others, alongside Coon and Fontana); Jerome Bixby (eight episodes); John Meredyth Lucas (seven episodes); Robert Bloch (six episodes); Theodore Sturgeon, Stephen Kandel (each with five episodes, one per season); and Margaret Armen (five episodes). Far more writers contributed multiple scripts than those who provided only one, but the list of those one-and-done writers was a sight to behold: George Clayton Johnson ("The Man Trap"), Richard Matheson ("The Enemy Within"), Harlan Ellison ("The City on the Edge of Forever"), and Larry Niven ("The Borderland") were all among them. Of course, there were plenty of duds among the one-timers as well.

    The most frequent writers tended to have recurring themes in their scripts. Fontana, for example, usually wrote character-based episodes, particularly those with a focus on Spock (her favourite character). She also enjoyed writing intrigues, a trend highlighted by "Journey to Babel" and "The Enterprise Incident", among others. Coon, on the other hand, leaned toward plot-based stories, usually with novel settings, or familiar but skewed or twisted situations. "Bread and Circuses", "A Piece of the Action", and "Spectre of the Gun", all alternate-Earth-type stories, were his handiwork. But as a writer, he was very dependable and had genuine bursts of creativity (two of his early works, "The Devil in the Dark" and "Errand of Mercy", conclusively prove this). More than even Fontana or Gerrold, he also devoted considerable energies to re-writing the scripts of others. Gerrold, for his part, became known for his comedies, and for often throwing the characters into absurd situations (as in absurdist, as opposed to surreal or bizarre, which were typical for Star Trek); both aspects were amply demonstrated in "The Trouble with Tribbles", his first - and quintessential - script. Bloch, a horror writer by trade, naturally tended toward more macabre stories (which naturally got him a stint on "Night Gallery"). All five of Kandel's episodes (four of which were co-written by Gerrold, though only the last - "Cyrano de Mudd" - credited him) featured the character of Harry Mudd, and indeed, Mudd was often described as "Steve's thing". Sturgeon, Lucas, and Bixby, on the other hand, were all known for their versatility.

    The show's five most frequent directors, who between them contributed to over 80% of the episodes produced, were Marc Daniels, Joseph Pevney, Ralph Senensky, Vincent McEveety, and John Meredyth Lucas (in that order). Two cast members, William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, also directed episodes. Additionally, both Daniels and Lucas directed episodes that they had written themselves. Likewise, the show relied on the work of a few key composers. In addition to Alexander Courage, who had written the show's theme song, and had scored all of the earliest episodes, frequent contributors to the show's brassy and delightfully bombastic soundtrack included Fred Steiner, the most prolific composer; Gerald Fried, who tended to write more melodic and atmospheric scores, usually with epic fantasy influences; and Sol Kaplan, who preferred bass and percussion, creating thrilling, energetic scores. (Kaplan, for this editor's money, was one of the finest, most underrated composers ever to work in television. His full score for "The Doomsday Machine", snippets of which were constantly reused elsewhere, was magnificent. He only scored two episodes IOTL - he'll be doing a lot more than that ITTL.)

    Key production personnel throughout the run of the show included: Jerry Finnerman, the Director of Photography; Rolland Brooks and Matt Jefferies, the two art directors and production designers; William Ware Theiss, the costume designer; Jim Rugg, the special effects supervisor; Fred B. Phillips, the makeup artist; Irving Feinberg, the prop master; Joseph D'Agosta, the casting director; and, last but certainly not least, creature and effects designer Wah Chang. In the above-the-line positions were the "Big Five": Gene Roddenberry, Executive Producer and initial showrunner; Gene L. Coon, Producer, later Co-Executive Producer, and de facto showrunner for most of the show's run; Robert H. Justman, Associate Producer and later full Producer, but eternally the bean counter; D.C. Fontana, from Staff Writer to Script Editor and finally Supervising Producer; and Herbert F. Solow, the Executive in Charge of Production. Other producers included John Meredyth Lucas and David Gerrold, both of whom started as Staff Writers, and served as Co-Producers during the show's later seasons; and Edward K. Milkis and Gregg Peters, both of whom were promoted to Associate Producer from below-the-line positions.

    Production Budgets
    (These numbers represent what Desilu would report to NBC, who in paying for the show would cover these costs, with the difference representing the studio's net profits - at least, in theory. NBC would then hope to cover their production expenses with advertising revenue from the sponsors, at minimum five times their costs pro rata: 50 minutes of programming to 10 minutes of advertising, in this era.)

    Season 1: $190,000 per episode average (excluding the two pilots); 28 regular episodes. $5,320,000 total.
    Season 2: $195,000 per episode average; 26 regular episodes. $5,070,000 total.
    Season 3: $215,000 per episode average; 26 regular episodes. $5,590,000 total.
    Season 4: $250,000 per episode average; 26 regular episodes. $6,500,000 total.
    Season 5: $275,000 per episode average; 26 regular episodes. $7,150,000 total.
    Season 5, including crossover and finale (note that the crossover is partly financed by the BBC): $300,000 per episode average; 30 regular episodes. $9,000,000 total. (Yes, both the crossover and the finale cost nearly $1 million apiece, very costly for 1970-71.)
    Total production costs, including both pilots: approximately $32.5 million

    Ratings
    (Note that, in this era, ratings for shows outside of the Top 30 are difficult to ascertain, even for well-documented ones like Star Trek.)


    Season 1: Not in Top 30 (Ranking somewhere in the low 50s overall.)
    Season 2: Not in Top 30 (Ranking somewhere in the low 40s overall.)
    Season 3: #22 overall; 21.0 rating (12.44 million households)
    Season 4: #10 overall; 23.0 rating (13.45 million households)
    Season 5: #19 overall; 21.0 rating (12.62 million households)
    Grand Finale: 47.0 rating; 75 share (28.25 million households)

    Industry Recognition

    Star Trek
    received numerous
    Emmy awards during (and after!) its run. Here is a list of them:

    1967: No Wins
    1968: Two (2) Wins: Outstanding Dramatic Series (Gene Roddenberry, Gene L. Coon); Outstanding Performance by a Supporting Actor in a Drama (Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock)
    1969: No Wins
    1970: Three (3) Wins: Outstanding Dramatic Series (Gene Roddenberry, Gene L. Coon, D.C. Fontana, Robert H. Justman); Outstanding Performance by a Supporting Actor in a Drama (Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock); Outstanding Directorial Achievement in a Drama (Joseph Pevney for "Yesteryear")
    1971: Three (3) Wins:
    Outstanding Dramatic Series (Gene Roddenberry, Gene L. Coon, D.C. Fontana, Robert H. Justman); Outstanding Performance by a Supporting Actor in a Drama (Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock); Outstanding Directorial Achievement in a Drama (Ralph Senensky for "The Sleepers of Selene")
    1972: Special Award (non-competitive); (Gene Roddenberry, Gene L. Coon, Robert L. Justman, D.C. Fontana, Herbert F. Solow)

    NBC received a Peabody Award in the year 1970 on behalf of Star Trek. The citation reads as follows: "for the creative use of allegory to present societal problems in original ways, and for challenging audiences to reflect on the present day in order to create a better future".

    Star Trek also won the Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation four times: for "The Menagerie" in 1967, "The City on the Edge of Forever" in 1968, "The Borderland" in 1971, and "These Were the Voyages" in 1972. All nominees in the category in both 1968 and 1971 were episodes of the series. (2001: A Space Odyssey won in 1969, and coverage of the moon landings won in 1970. IOTL, no award was given for the year 1971, and A Clockwork Orange received the award in 1972.)

    Indeed, the show won a great many awards, both during and following its original run, as it was beloved by critics and audiences alike. But these were just a small part of the rich legacy that Star Trek would leave in its wake...

    ---

    Thus concludes our in-depth analysis of the original run of Star Trek. It's been one heck of a ride, but all good things must come to an end. Our next look at the series will explore the aftermath, the continuing influence, and the legacy of the program, along with the fates of many of the principals in the years ahead. Just as IOTL, Star Trek will never leave the popular consciousness, no matter how final the conclusion may have seemed at the time. Look forward to the sixth (and last) production appendix for Star Trek as part of the next cycle of updates. And please respect the many names I mentioned above; they all played a part in making the show great, ITTL and IOTL.


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    Doctor Who and the Americans
  • Doctor Who and the Americans

    Third Doctor Logo.jpg
    The logo of Doctor Who throughout the "American Period".

    The four-part serial that marked the premiere of the eighth season of Doctor Who, "Starship from the Future", was also aired as the two-part premiere of the fifth season of Star Trek, "Lords of Time and Space". The differences between the two versions were relatively subtle. Star Trek ran for 50 minutes, though constantly interrupted by commercial breaks; whereas Doctor Who ran without interruption, though for only 25 minutes. [1] Thus, the exact same cut could not be used for both versions; adjustments had to be made for pacing. These changes, in the case of the initial crossover, were made at the BBC, without any input from Desilu; re-negotiations with the studio resulted in an editor being appointed by the network to serve as, effectively, an "attaché" at the newly-formed Desilu Post-Production. He would supervise the edits made to the raw footage of Doctor Who. [2] As the crossover was deemed part of the Doctor Who syndication package, the originally-aired Star Trek version was never broadcast again in North America; ironically enough, the BBC themselves did choose to air that version as part of their first-run of the show in 1973. General fan consensus, on both sides of the pond, was that the Star Trek edit of the crossover was superior, that it flowed better; however, it was never widely available anywhere after its initial airing.


    Doctor Who began its first-run on American television on September 13, 1971, a Monday, at 8:00 PM on NBC. 25 episodes – split into five serials – were produced for the program’s eighth season, all of which had already aired in Britain during the first half of that year. But NBC had a problem: the first four episodes comprising the first arc had already aired in the United States just one year earlier, in a slightly altered form – as two episodes of Star Trek. Essentially, the network was being set up to air four solid weeks of reruns in their already sharply reduced primetime schedule, which was enough to send already anxious executives into apoplexy. But then, the smashing success of the Star Trek finale that July led them to reconsider. Networks had shown reruns of their existing shows in primetime slots before – they would just be shifting the order around somewhat. In addition, it was already known that Doctor Who – like Star Trek – was popular with very young audiences; too young, perhaps, to properly remember the previous year's broadcast. [3] Perhaps all they needed to sell this old material with a fresh coat of varnish was the right kind of advertising. This optimism would be vindicated when, presaging Star Trek's phenomenal success in syndication, the re-dressed reruns performed very well in the ratings.

    In Canada, on the other hand, Doctor Who aired on the publicly-owned CBC, which had also aired the program for one season – the first season, two years behind schedule – in 1965. The CBC was essentially forced to bring Doctor Who back, given that it would otherwise be airing only on NBC stations, many of which were close enough to the Canadian border than their transmission signals could be, and often were, received by Canadian viewers. [4] As was standard practice, both the Canadian and the American feeds of Doctor Who were aired simultaneously, though many Canadians chose to watch the NBC broadcasts instead. This was a long-standing thorn in the side of both Canadian networks – the CBC and the privately-owned CTV – but, fortunately for them, a means of "correcting" this problem was already in progress, and would soon be implemented.

    It wasn’t until October that episodes of Doctor Who proper – entirely new to American audiences – finally reached the air. A six-part serial called "The Mind of Evil", it proved the ultimate test as to whether the show had legs beyond the warp nacelles of the Starship Enterprise. Surprisingly, the program continued to be a big hit – perhaps the unlikeliest of the 1971-72 season, though certainly both NBC and Desilu had every reason to be grateful. It would finish (just barely) within the Top 30 for the season, and would also retain a surprising proportion of the Star Trek audience with an average of 12 million households watching. Even the crossover reruns pulled in numbers that were almost as good as they had been when they were brand-new, the previous year. The British Invasion was here to stay.

    The character of Linda Johnson quickly caught on with American audiences, particularly adolescent boys (many of whom, in later life, would fondly describe her as their first crush) [5]. She was known for her cutting-edge fashion sense, particularly her rather suggestive wardrobe. Intended as an audience surrogate, Linda's function was critical, in that she was especially meant to help said American audiences relate to the program. British audiences, for their part, were surprisingly receptive to Linda as well. Booth was a good actress, with a warm and appealing manner, and her chemistry with Jon Pertwee was low-key, but effective. Linda's personality was fashioned around these strengths. Though a complete newcomer to the Doctor's world, she was shown to be a quick study, and had a no-nonsense attitude. Despite that, she clearly had a bit of the soft spot for the Doctor, and her initial toleration of his many eccentricities eventually matured into a sort of sentimental affection. Booth did her best to moot the rather broad Americanisms the show's writers had devised for her character, ensuring them that their target audience would only find a more stereotypical portrayal demeaning.

    But it was the Doctor himself who truly captured the popular imagination. Mysterious and enigmatic, the character had a very long and convoluted history already, upon which further elaboration was generally avoided. In terms of personality, the Doctor was a leader, and a man of action, but also a devoted technologist, as memorably encapsulated in his catchphrase, "Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow". And despite hiding his own share of secrets, he had an endless fascination with making discoveries throughout time and space. Though other actors had essayed the role before and after, Pertwee was cemented as the Doctor to American audiences; Desilu had only sold the previous season of the program, season seven, which marked his debut, into syndication by the time that first-run episodes premiered in late 1971. [6] The two previous Doctors, William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton, saw more limited success in syndication, and primarily after the current incarnation of Doctor Who was confirmed as an unlikely hit on American shores; however, they did eventually find an audience, and Desilu did retain copies of all their adventures; this would prove advantageous once the BBC ended their tape-wiping policy and found themselves missing large chunks of Doctor Who stories.

    The period during which Doctor Who was first-run on American network television came to be known as, unimaginatively enough, the "American Period", defined by larger budgets, more internationally-based plots, and the American sidekick. The most popular nickname for the era, the "Yank Years", was coined much later, in a retrospective article on the program's history. Though the program would not finish in the Top 30 again after its first season on American airwaves, it would continue to run on NBC for a number of years thereafter, due to a combination of factors: the excellent viewer demographics, the low production costs, and pressure from Desilu, who obviously stood much to gain for as long as the show was kept in first-run. Most analysts attribute the show's popularity and longevity in the United States as the result of two phenomena, taken together: Moonshot Lunacy, and the continuing or "second phase" of the British Invasion.

    ---

    [1] As a major condition of the production and syndication deals, the BBC and Desilu were required to ensure that episodes of Doctor Who ran for exactly 25 minutes (allowing five minutes of advertising to fill a half-hour slot on a commercial network). Historically, episodes tended to fluctuate in length, anywhere between 20 and 25 minutes.

    [2] Among the editors assigned to Doctor Who is Marcia Lucas. By her standards, this is grunt work, plain and simple, but she needs to pay the bills somehow. Her husband, one of those New Hollywood auteurs, has recently had something of a reality check, and is presently grovelling to the various studios in hopes of getting some supposed sure-fire hit crowd-pleaser off the ground.

    [3] This is the same logic that had comic books repeating the same plots over and over again during the Silver Age.

    [4] The Greater Toronto Area, for example, receives signals from stations in Buffalo. American signals tend to be clearer, stronger, and they're attached to networks who have shows that Canadians want to watch; contrast locally-made sitcoms, such as the infamously abysmal "The Trouble With Tracy", which they very much want to avoid. And as all Canadians know, the best way to get them to absorb the products of Canadian culture is to give them no other choice.

    [5] How about a fun analogy? Connie Booth : Boys going through puberty in 1972 ITTL :: Carrie Fisher : Boys going through puberty in 1983 IOTL! But in all seriousness, Booth was not above flaunting her assets (witness the occasional scantily-clad escapades on "Fawlty Towers", which she co-wrote, IOTL), and does so with aplomb on Doctor Who; that endears her to male fans on both sides of the pond.

    [6] IOTL, it was of course Tom Baker who became the Doctor, as far as Americans (and indeed, many Brits) were concerned.

    ---

    So, there you have it: Doctor Who will see some success in the United States, though clearly on Star Trek's coattails, and it will always remain in its shadow. I won't reveal precisely how long the show will continue running on NBC, though I will divulge one crucial detail: the "Yank Years" will be contained entirely within Pertwee's tenure as the Doctor. And not to worry, because we'll be hearing more about Pertwee's tenure, along with other characters and plot developments, in future cycles.

    Also, this update marks the first proper mention of my home and native land, which will feature in more detail in the coming updates, especially since I know that I have at least two confirmed Canadian readers following along. In fact, you'll be hearing a little more about the True North Strong and Free in the very next update, in which we will cover... Sports!


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    The Wide World of Sports
  • The Wide World of Sports

    "I'm just telling it like it is."

    Howard Cosell, sports journalist, and colour commentator for "Monday Night Football"

    For all the popularity of dramatic programming during the Classical Era of television, it was increasingly being forced to share space with another format: televised sporting events. For the major leagues were beginning to experience a transformational shift in their economic philosophies: they were seeing unprecedented revenues from their broadcast deals with the major networks, and these could come to eclipse even gate revenues, which had been the very foundation of how sports leagues had operated for almost a century. This sea change had been anticipated by a number of trailblazers on both sides of the transaction: league executives, and television executives.

    "Monday Night Football", the brainchild of ABC producer Roone Arledge, saw what had already become the nation's most popular spectator sport (edging out the venerable National Pastime of baseball) secure a regularly scheduled berth on network television; it quickly developed into a massive success, finishing in the Top 30 for the 1971-72 season. Arledge, in his own way, came to define the changes of the "Modern TV" Era as prominently as Fred Silverman or Norman Lear did within their own sectors of the industry. [1] Certainly, his reputation preceded him. However, behind-the-scenes functionaries rarely achieve fame, no matter their talent or skill; though Arledge would eventually transcend this limitation, as he had done with so many of the others he had faced beforehand, it certainly remained a truism in the early 1970s. Instead, the popular imagination of football audiences was instantly captured by colour commentator Howard Cosell.

    Cosell was one of the most memorable on-air personalities on television; his announcing style was unforgettable. Intellectual and analytical, he essentially took a "hard news" tack with sporting events, an outlook which he shared with Arledge. He was already an established sports journalist, particularly in the field of boxing, where he and boxer Muhammad Ali (originally known as Cassius Clay) each rose to glory with help from the other. To the extent that a person's fame could be judged by how often he was parodied, Cosell was one of the most famous men in America: his highly peculiar vocabulary, cadence, and delivery were often imitated. And as a "serious" journalist who viewed sports as worthy of serious coverage, he did not shy away from politics. He was a staunch opponent of racism, and a tireless advocate of ending segregation in sports. [2] His friendship with, and support of, Ali through his many controversies would cement this reputation. He was certainly not without flaws, though these were typical of his role as an on-air personality and generally though far from universally endeared him to his audience: his pomposity, his bluster, his arrogant attitude, and his unwillingness to suffer fools gladly.

    Baseball had been evolving from its 1950s doldrums, during which the National Pastime was essentially a New York one. There were now as many teams in California as there were in New York City, and indeed, there was also an international team, based in Montreal. The Expos, named for the famous 1967 event which had put the city on the world map, were the first modern major league team to be based outside of the United States, excluding the NHL. Even prior to the official arrival of the Expos in 1969, Montreal had a rich baseball legacy: it had been the town where Jackie Robinson had played for one season, as part of the minor league Montreal Royals, who were the primary farm team for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Robinson, who had famously broken the colour barrier, never forgot the launchpad to his major league career, whose fans had embraced him wholeheartedly. [3] Having become an announcer following his retirement, he would even return to the city in 1972, serving as a commentator for the Expos. Unfortunately, he was in declining health, and would die soon after.

    The Basketball Association of America, one of two precursor leagues to the present National Basketball Association (NBA), the major league for basketball, had also fielded an international team, with a club in Toronto (the Huskies) for one season after World War II. (Interestingly, Robinson's tenure with the Royals had been only just before the season, 1946-47, that the Huskies had played in Toronto.) However, they disbanded thereafter, and the NBA expressed no interest in returning to Canada. As of the 1971-72 season, the league consisted of 17 teams. Of the four major league sports, basketball was perhaps the least prominent, and certainly drew the least attention to itself. However, stars like Wilt Chamberlain and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar ensured the continuing visibility and popularity of the sport.

    And then there was hockey. As with baseball, hockey's major league was fighting a long-held reputation for stodginess and extreme conservatism. The National Hockey League (NHL) played with the same six-team roster for 25 seasons, before circumstances (namely the growing potential for rival leagues) drove them to expand, doubling in size in the 1967-68 season. By 1971-72, the league comprised 14 teams (eleven in the United States and three in Canada), and were poised to expand by two new clubs for the following season. But their moves to do so were already too little, too late; a rival league, the World Hockey Association (WHA), had been established, and would field 12 teams (eight in the United States, and four in Canada) in their inaugural season of 1972-73. [4] The two leagues would see overlap in five markets: New York City (with two NHL teams playing in that metro area), Philadelphia, Chicago, the Twin Cities of Minnesota, and Los Angeles. The upstart WHA would prove surprisingly able to compete with the established NHL, due to their adeptness at attracting quality players, culminating in the defection of star forward Bobby Hull, generally regarded as one of the greatest hockey players.

    1972 also marked the year of the Olympics. Both of the former Axis powers played host – Japan to the Winter Games, in Sapporo (which were, of course, opened by none other than Emperor Hirohito himself); and (West) Germany to the Summer Games, in Munich. It was the first time that the games would be taking place in Germany since the infamous 1936 Games in Berlin, held under the auspices of the Nazi regime. The modern, democratic Germany obviously had a lot to prove, and the general atmosphere of détente served to provide some legitimacy for their overall goodwill efforts. However, their best-laid plans quickly went awry with the infamous Munich Massacre, during which Palestinian terrorists kidnapped and later murdered Israeli athletes and coaches who had been participating in the Games. [5] The international incident exposed West German authorities as woefully unprepared for such an event, and just as the Berlin Games had done before them resulted in an increased politicization of the Olympic Games.

    The Canadian performance in pro athletics in 1972 was shameful – they failed to win a single gold medal at either Sapporo or Munich, and they narrowly lost the Summit Series, a bragging-rights contest in their native sport of ice hockey, to Soviet Russia. [6] It was enough to set off the warning bells, as they would be hosting the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal, and hoped to recapture the glory of Expo '67. In the election taking place that autumn, Opposition Leader Robert Stanfield made a campaign promise to increase funding to Canadian sport in general, and to the Olympics in particular. He and his Progressive Conservatives, or Tories, would win the election though with a narrow minority defeating incumbent Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau and his governing Liberal Party. [7] One of Stanfield's first acts upon forming government was to elevate the role of Minister for Sport to full cabinet-level rank.

    And then, alongside all of these mere athletic sports, there was also the "Sport of Kings": Chess. The young and famously eccentric Grandmaster, Bobby Fischer, was perhaps the finest that the world had ever seen – and he was also an American, competing in a field utterly dominated at the top level by Soviets. Naturally, his proficiency came to be framed within the context of the Cold War. Chess mastery had become one of the key propaganda tools of the Soviet arsenal: it implied superior logic, reasoning, and strategic thinking abilities. The World Chess Champion, Soviet Boris Spassky, had ascended to the title by defeating another Soviet, Tigran Petrosian, in 1969. The last Champion who had been neither Russian nor Soviet was the Dutchman, Max Euwe now the President of the sanctioning body, FIDEwho had been defeated in 1937. Opportunities for Fischer to contest the title against Spassky were continuously planned, but for various reasons, they never came to pass. Fischer, in addition to being eccentric, was also reclusive and egotistical, and insisted on terms that both FIDE and Spassky found absurd. [8] In the end, he never contested the title, and would generally be considered the greatest chess player never to hold it.

    ---

    [1] Arledge had earlier created the "Wide World of Sports" anthology series, and would IOTL go on to head the network's news division, cementing his reputation as one of the most important people in the television industry.

    [2] An OTL incident, in which Cosell used a rather unfortunate term to describe an African-American football player, has resulted in those who use labels with impunity to describe him as a "racist"; my consultation with an expert on many of the particulars of the matter confirm my opinion, which will inform Cosell's portrayal ITTL, that he was emphatically anti-racist, and merely (and tragically) misspoke.

    [3] The legend has it that Robinson never faced so much as a racial slur from the fans during his season in Montreal, where he and his wife lived in a predominantly white (and francophone) neighbourhood. Robinson died on October 24, 1972, IOTL, but his health had been in decline for a number of years beforehand. Therefore, his death will occur at approximately the same time ITTL.

    [4] These teams, and their locations, are all as per OTL, up to and including the 1972-73 season, for both the NHL and the WHA. Canadian representation within major league hockey has never fallen below a 5:1 disparity with the United States, though it has not risen above a 2:1 differential (which it held throughout the "Original Six" period of 1942-67, and again from 1980-91 and 1992-93) since 1937-38.

    [5] The Munich Massacre, and its aftermath, proceeds more or less as IOTL - security at the event was, by all accounts, a joke, as were the abortive negotiations and rescue attempts. The terrorists, for their part, have potent ideological motivations which would not be butterflied away by the other geopolitical changes that have taken place in TTL to date.

    [6] The Summit Series of 1972, IOTL, was very much to the Canadian psyche what the "Miracle on Ice" was to the Americans in 1980. Eight games were played, with the Canadians winning 4-3-1 against the Soviets. The architect of this victory, Paul Henderson, quickly became a national hero; though, like Roger Maris, he is remembered for little else. ITTL, the Soviets instead narrowly win, also 4-3-1, and instead of an illusory morale boost, the Canadian sporting establishment is handed a harsh reality check.

    [7] Canada, like most Commonwealth countries, has a Westminster Parliamentary system, with members elected to districts (popularly known as "ridings") First Past the Post. IOTL, the Liberals (very narrowly) defeated the PCs, and Trudeau would govern until 1984 (with a brief interruption in the interim). Stanfield is generally reckoned as "the greatest Prime Minister we never had".

    [8] Among the incentives that finally convinced Fischer to challenge for the title on realistic terms IOTL was a phone call from National Security Advisor (and later Secretary of State) Henry Kissinger, who will not serve in either position ITTL. Thus, the Soviets retain the World Chess Championship, an important moral victory for them in the face of other setbacks elsewhere. The title of "Greatest Chess Player Never To Win The Championship" is hotly contested IOTL, but a popular contemporary candidate is Victor Korchnoi.

    ---

    For the interest of my Canadian readers, as well as those of you with an interest in psephology, I'll provide a short summary (which will not constitute a proper update) of the 1972 Federal Election ITTL. I'll also be sure to provide a little insight into the major players of the era, for those of you who may be unfamiliar. I'll try to have that ready in advance of the next update.

    To be honest, I had no idea how political this seemingly light-hearted sports post would become, but it does anticipate a number of (hopefully) apolitical updates in the cycles ahead. It does tie in very nicely to the racial challenges in my overview update, along with the continuing remind that TTL is not a utopia, and that harmony and brotherhood in the Star Trek mould is still a very long time in coming.
     
    Appendix B, Part III: Canadian Federal Election, 1972
  • Appendix B, Part III: Canadian Federal Election, 1972

    And now, for a brief synopsis of the Canadian Federal Election of 1972. (As always, editorial notes and comparison points to OTL will be highlighted in RED and placed in brackets.)

    Election Results

    The election was held on October 30, 1972, a Monday. (Canadian federal elections always take place on a Monday. The writs are usually dropped five or six weeks beforehand.) Turnout was 77.1%, with 9,730,000 electors casting a ballot. (Turnout IOTL was slightly lower; 76.7%, for 9,677,000 electors total.) 264 electoral districts, or "ridings", were being contested, with 133 seats required for any party to achieve a majority government. The incumbent Liberal government held 146 seats at dissolution (one fewer than IOTL), the opposition Tories held 73, the NDP held 25, the Socreds held 16 (one more than IOTL), there were two independents, and two vacant seats.

    Progressive Conservatives ("Tories"): Led by Robert Stanfield, Leader of the Official Opposition, and MP for Halifax, Nova Scotia. Won 3,630,000 votes, or 37.31% of the popular vote. Ran candidates in all 264 ridings; elected 123 MPs. (They received 3,389,000 votes IOTL, good for 35% of the popular vote, and returned 105 MPs.) Areas of strength for the Tories included the province of Alberta, where they won every seat; Stanfield's home province of Nova Scotia; the smallest province, Prince Edward Island; and the largest province, Ontario. However, they won only three seats out of 78 in the second-largest province of Quebec. (An improvement over the two of OTL.)

    Liberals ("Grits"): Led by Pierre Trudeau, Prime Minister, and MP for Mount Royal, Quebec. Won 3,540,000 votes, or 36.42% of the popular vote. Ran candidates in all 264 ridings; elected 92 MPs. (They received 3,718,000 votes IOTL, good for 38.42% of the popular vote, and returned 107 MPs.) The Liberals won only one province, Quebec; it was by building up large margins in their strongholds there that the popular vote was so close. (Also a truism IOTL; the Tories were able to form minority governments in 1957 and 1979, despite winning fewer votes than the Grits, because of their more efficient vote distribution.)

    New Democratic Party
    ("Dippers"): Led by David Lewis, MP for York South, Ontario. Won 1,685,000 votes, or 17.32% of the popular vote. Ran candidates in 249 ridings; elected 28 MPs. (They received 1,726,000 votes IOTL, good for 17.83% of the popular vote, and returned 31 MPs.) The NDP won only one province, British Columbia, where the party formed government at the provincial level. They won no seats east of Ontario.

    Social Credit ("Socreds" in English, "Créditistes" in French): Led by Réal Caouette, MP for Témiscamingue, Quebec. Won 780,000 votes, or 8.01% of the popular vote. Ran candidates in 171 ridings; elected 19 MPs. (They received 731,000 votes IOTL, good for 7.55% of the popular vote, and returned 15 MPs.) All of their MPs were elected from the province of Quebec, where they ran candidates in every riding.

    Two (2) independents - former (and future) PC MP Roch LaSalle of Joliette, Quebec, and former Liberal Lucien Lamoureux of Stormont-Dundas, Ontario, the Speaker of the House of Commons (who had decided to follow the otherwise strictly British convention of ending any party affiliation upon being created Speaker) were elected.

    Miscellany

    This was the first time that the Tories had been in government since 1963, nine years earlier, under former Prime Minister John G. Diefenbaker (who continued to serve as an MP).

    A number of close contests were fought on the riding level. One of the most "epic" was the rematch of the 1968 contest in Oshawa-Whitby, where defeated former cabinet minister Michael Starr of the PCs and incumbent NDP MP Ed Broadbent squared off against each other once again. In one of the narrowest victories of the election, Starr was able to triumph over Broadbent, returning to office and to cabinet. (This one was surprisingly close IOTL; however popular Broadbent - the future leader of the NDP IOTL - may have been with the general public, the good people of his riding seemed to be a lot more reserved about him. ITTL, after losing, he tries for a rematch in the following election, only to lose again and then deciding to return to his prior career as an academic.)

    The Tories elected only three MPs from Quebec, all of whom were appointed to cabinet. Georges Valade, who represented a Montreal riding, was created Minister for Sport, in anticipation of the Olympic Games to be held there in 1976. (Valade, of Sainte-Marie, Quebec, is the third PC MP from Quebec, joining Heward Grafftey and Claude Wagner, elected IOTL. Valade had been an MP since 1962, and only narrowly lost his seat in this election, and then again in a rematch in 1974. His presence in the House ITTL gives the Tory government a seat in Montreal, the largest city in Canada.)

    Rationale


    Since this entire section is going to be out-of-universe, I'll eschew the annotation-style text here. As with so many elections, the question should not be "Why did Stanfield win", but rather "Why did Trudeau lose"? So, why did he lose? Well, Trudeau was known IOTL for his dynamism and charisma, but at the same time, he was very rude, pushy, impolite, brash, crude, and petulant. R
    egardless of his policies, he was very much a rebellious teenager: "Father" was the strict disciplinarian USA, and "Mother" was the country's British Imperial heritage. I'm going to posit that he, like so many others in this era, thrived largely because he could position himself against the quintessential "boogeyman": Richard Nixon. He invited draft dodgers to Canada with open arms; he took a strong stand against the overseas quagmire; he gloated about his harmonious and tolerant policies in contrast to the self-destructive tendencies of the United States. And naturally, certain groups of people rallied to him; however, he faced considerable resistance. Without the leverage of Nixon, he really has nothing to push against, which makes him look like less of a hero in that respect. And that is what allows critical voices to be heard more clearly: on matters involving the military, athletics, the economy, official bilingualism, etc. It also allows someone with less polish and more substance to come out ahead for once, and so he does. I may yet mention some of Stanfield's policies in the cycles to come.

    And, as previously mentioned, the "Sports Pledge" of TTL is merely the icing on the cake. All that said, if anyone has any further questions about the election, or about how elections in Canada work, or the Westminster Parliamentary system in general, please feel free to ask.
     
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    The Archie Bunker Vote (United States Elections, 1972)
  • The Archie Bunker Vote (United States Elections, 1972)

    Archie Bunker.jpg

    Archie and Edith Bunker at their famous spinet piano.

    Those Were the Days
    was the top-rated program on television in the 1971-72 season (despite being virtually ignored in its first season), and unlike nearly all American sitcoms that had come before, it was unabashedly topical, and refused to shy away from covering controversial topics. The show also refused to appear neutral or unbiased, consistently taking a liberal tack to most issues of the day. But the broad spectrum of opinions held by many people on most matters were ably represented by the four main characters in the Bunker household. And indeed, their perspectives would also become a microcosm of those presented by the candidates seeking office in the elections of November, 1972; the campaign leading up to which becoming a constant touchstone of plots and character interactions.

    Richard Higgins, the "Meathead", was played by Richard Dreyfuss. He was intended as a shining example of the "modern man": the adult Baby Boomer, the new generation. He repudiated many traditional American values, though he embraced others – or at least, he claimed to embrace them. The decision was made to play the character as a stereotype of the conservative boogeyman – bleeding-heart, limousine liberal, ivory-tower intellectual, unmanly – though their success in doing so was limited. [1] Dreyfuss played the character as milquetoast and deferential to all of those whom he did not wish to offend: his wife and his friend, the African-American Lionel Jefferson, in particular. His father-in-law, on the other hand, was a different story. Richard had an unfortunate tendency to believe that he knew what was best for everyone else in his life; though he could not really be described as pushy, condescending fit very nicely.

    Gloria Bunker-Higgins, the "little goil", was played by Penny Marshall. The writers – including star Carroll O'Connor – faced considerable difficulty in crafting the character, an unapologetic feminist who fought for women's rights. Marshall herself took an active role in Gloria's development, inviting the frequent comparisons to the character's mother, a conventional housewife who was eternally deferential to her chauvinistic husband. Though Gloria's views were generally liberal, she was more independent-minded than Richard, and took a more "common sense" tack to societal problems. [2] She worked full-time as a clerk in order to support her husband, a career student. She and her mother were very close; and though Gloria did love her father, she fought with him almost as frequently as her husband did.

    Edith Bunker, the "Dingbat", was played by Jean Stapleton. Her character was an oasis of warmth and compassion in the often combative Bunker household, and without question, she was the only character with whom all the others got along. Perhaps only her husband occasionally refused to react to her good cheer in kind, though she in turn was the only one who really seemed to understand him. Indeed, she was without question the wisest character on the show, despite her leaps of "illogical logic" that came to rival even Gracie Allen in her heyday; hence her nickname. She was the only one of the four central characters who could not be described as "realistic", and was not meant to represent a segment of society; however, her portrayal by Stapleton emphasized her humanity.

    And then there was Archie Bunker himself, the "lovable bigot", played by Carroll O'Connor. Not nearly as abrasive or as mean-spirited as his inspiration, Alf Garnett, Archie was portrayed sympathetically; he was a victim of circumstance, namely, those same "good old ways" that he so staunchly defended. Stories generally used one of two means to arrive at this end: either the plot would demonstrate that societal changes were indeed making things better for everyone; or his continuing resistance to make new changes, or adapt to them, would result in Archie becoming worse off than he was before. [3] It was the primary objective of showrunner Norman Lear that Archie always be proven wrong before the end of each episode; O'Connor favoured a more nuanced approach. He was not fond of ivory-tower types like Richard, and often encouraged storylines that put both Archie and Richard in the wrong; in those cases, Gloria or (especially) Edith would be vindicated. Audiences, for their part, instantly took to Archie; everyone knew an Archie, and indeed, some of them were Archie. But even those who did not agree with the character ideologically found him easy to like, and to relate to. Lear insisted that Archie was popular because audiences enjoyed laughing at him; the truth was a good deal more complex than that.

    Throughout the early 1970s, polls generally showed incumbent President Hubert H. Humphrey (or Herbert A. Hump-free, as the malapropism-prone Archie often referred to him) with a commanding lead; certain of his policies (ending the overseas quagmire, aggressive racial integration) met with some resistance – particularly with Archie himself, as he made very clear on numerous episodes of Those Were the Days – but on the whole, his Great Society agenda was met with approval by the American people, continuing the liberal consensus of the post-New Deal era. [4] Richard and Gloria were both Humphrey supporters, though with differing levels of fervour: Gloria liked him well enough, whereas Richard, though a passionate supporter of some of his policies, would occasionally lament his relative moderation, expressing a preference for more liberal candidates, such as Eugene McCarthy.

    The field of Republicans seeking to defeat Humphrey was fairly large, but more noteworthy were those who had declined the opportunity: former Vice-President Richard Nixon, who had staged a strong comeback from seeming oblivion in 1968, held firm to his refusal to return to the political arena, refusing any interviews or queries on the subject: his famous quote on the matter was "All I have to say to you is something that can't be printed in tomorrow's paper." Another, more surprising, withdrawal came later, when presumed frontrunner, conservative Governor Ronald Reagan of California, opted out of the race. He would eternally cite his interest in continuing to serve the fine people of the Golden State as the primary factor in this decision; but his aides would later admit that he was turned off by polls showing Humphrey comfortably ahead, coupled with the presence of George Wallace, running as a third-party candidate. Reagan believed that he and Wallace appealed to the same core constituency – the white working-class, who, in one of the greatest legacies of Those Were the Days, came to be known as the "Archie Bunker vote". [5]

    In Reagan's absence, the natural frontrunner was Nelson Rockefeller (rendered in Archie-ism as that Rocky Nelson fellah), the liberal Governor of New York, who had finished second in 1964, to another conservative, Barry Goldwater. An elder statesman of the party, Rockefeller naturally had the largest cash advantage of any candidate, and also had strong support – and strong opposition. Another returning candidate was Senator George Romney of Michigan [6] – who had run in 1968, while sitting as Governor of the Wolverine State. Despite his strong credentials, he could not recover from the mistakes of his previous, disastrous campaign – the famous "brainwashed" remark in particular continued to haunt him. But he was Rockefeller's only real competition amongst moderates, though in the end he only won two states in the primaries: his home state of Michigan, along with Utah, bulwark of his Mormon coreligionists (and, ironically, a very conservative state otherwise). Among the major conservative candidates were Rep. John Ashbrook of Ohio, Sen. John Tower of Texas, and Gov. Paul Laxalt of Nevada. [7] Ashbrook, being a mere Congressman, could not build a significant infrastructure; Tower dropped out of the Presidential race early, to focus on running for re-election to the Senate and preventing several upwardly mobile House members from nipping at his heels. Laxalt thus emerged as the conservative candidate and the only real threat to Rockefeller. As a natural proxy for Reagan, Laxalt became good friends with the Gipper during the primary campaign; that friendship would endure throughout their careers.

    But eventually, Rockefeller prevailed, finally given the chance to carry the Republican banner into a Presidential election. Needing to choose a conservative running-mate in order to balance the ticket, he selected one of his strongest supporters: Gov. Daniel J. Evans of Washington State. This would serve to balance the ticket geographically, as well as ideologically. On Those Were the Days, Edith supported Rockefeller, against the protests of both her husband and her son-in-law (relatively muted, as both would much rather attack the politics of the other). She praised his long years of service as their Governor, and believed that he would make a fine President. Gloria, though a committed Humphrey supporter, admired Rockefeller and claimed that she would not object to his winning the Presidency. Richard refused to qualify his support for Humphrey in the same way, claiming vehemently that Rockefeller's party would bring their agenda into the White House. Archie, though he had voted for Rockefeller in the past, did not care for his liberal policies, and, like Richard, often described him as "just as bad" as the other candidate that he opposed.

    And then there was Gov. George Wallace (George E. Wall-izz), the staunch segregationist from Alabama, who, incensed by Humphrey's liberalism and his racial policies, decided to turn his 1968 vehicle for a Presidential run into a legitimate third party. The American Party, as it became known (though many commentators continued to refer to it as the American Independent Party, listed in short-form as AIP) appeared on the ballot in 49 states, absent only from Hawaii. [8] Wallace extended his attempt to thwart an Electoral College majority for Humphrey by running House and Senate candidates, in hopes of preventing one for the Democrats in Congress as well. Wallace scored a bipartisan coup when the extremely conservative Republican Congressman, John G. Schmitz of California, offered to serve as his running-mate. [9] The American Party campaign was unabashedly populist and nativist; in searching for a symbol for their party, they were aided by an editorial cartoonist, who chose the turkey – which, unlike both the donkey and the elephant, was native to American shores. The turkey was also seen as proud, stubborn, and folksy, much like Wallace. Intended as, at the very least, a ribbing of Wallace's ideals, if not an all-out condemnation, the American Party co-opted the symbol wholeheartedly. The turkey, being a fowl, much like the NBC peacock, inspired one of the more subtly racist slogans of the 1972 election: Vote for turkeys, and stay away from peacocks – a derogatory reference to NBC's popularity with black audiences. Unsurprisingly, this was one of the few elements of the campaign that did not percolate into Those Were the Days, which aired on CBS.

    As the campaign wore on, it became increasingly clear that despite Humphrey's strengths at governing, he was far from the best at campaigning; though he was certainly not helped by considerable voter fatigue with total control by the Democratic Party, who had held the Presidency and both houses of Congress since 1961. A critical decision, to allow the first televised debates since the famous Kennedy-Nixon match of 1960, was later perceived to have severely damaged his chances for re-election; for he was outmatched in oratory by both Rockefeller and Wallace, who naturally took very different – but equally successful – approaches to debating with him. In this regard, Muskie proved a valuable asset, for he easily triumphed over Evans and Schmidt in the lone Vice-Presidential debate. By contrast, Evans proved something of a drag on Rockefeller; one of the campaign's biggest scandals broke out when one of his aides was discovered to be eavesdropping on the Humphrey campaign.

    tumblr_m06khkFO0B1qlz9dno1_r1_500.png


    Map of Presidential election results. Red denotes states won by Humphrey and Muskie; Blue denotes those won by Rockefeller and Evans; Gold denotes those won by Wallace and Schmidt. (Note also that a faithless elector in South Carolina cast his vote for Wallace and Schmidt, instead of Rockefeller and Evans; this is not indicated on the map above.)

    Turnout for the election was approximately 55%, or just above 78 million. Humphrey and Muskie carried 22 states out of 50 (along with the District of Columbia), which translated to 276 electoral votes out of 538; in contrast to Rockefeller and Evans, who won 23 states but only 217 electoral votes (though they were entitled to 218). Wallace and Schmidt won the remaining five states and 45 electoral votes. A large number of states were marginal, won by fewer than five points in either direction.

    Though the electoral vote was relatively close, the popular vote was closer still. Humphrey had a lead of just over one-and-a-half million votes; approximately 35 million to 33.5 million. This translated to a victory margin of slightly more than 2% of the vote: 44.8% to 42.7%. Wallace received over 9 million votes, or almost 12%. The Socialist Workers Party won 50,000 votes; no other ticket received more than 25,000 votes nationwide, though Governor Ronald Reagan received over 20,000 write-in votes in his native California.

    Despite Wallace's efforts, the Democrats (narrowly) retained control of the House, returning 220 representatives; majority control required 218. The Republicans elected 204 members; the American Party saw 11 of their candidates elected. This was the largest Congressional delegation of any third-party throughout the 20th century to date. [10] Alabama Rep. Walter Flowers, a close Wallace ally, and a relative moderate within his party, was chosen as House Leader. Because of Wallace's strength in his home state, he co-opted the entire Democratic Party machine, and the American Party became known in that state as the American Democratic Party of Alabama, or ADP. The National Democratic faction, opposed to Wallace, avowed their loyalty to the federal Democrats, officially becoming the National Democratic Party of Alabama, or NDP. The ADP won most of the local offices up for election in the state, and took control of the State House. The Republicans, though they managed to win two seats in the state's Congressional delegation, were utterly marginalized.

    Sen. John Sparkman, running for re-election in the Heart of Dixie, remained neutral, and his friendship with Wallace allowed for his re-election as an Independent Democrat, joining Harry F. Byrd of Virginia. The two joined the Democrats and the Republicans, tied at 48 seats apiece; New York Conservative James L. Buckley; and the lone AIP Senator, Lester Maddox of Georgia. [11] With both Independents caucusing with the Democratic Party, this gave them exactly half of the seats in the upper house, resulting in the need for Vice-President Muskie to remain on-hand to break ties. [12] The Republicans did surprisingly well in several southern states, thanks to strong support from such established figures as Strom Thurmond (who had himself run a third-party campaign for President in 1948); South Carolina Gov. Albert Watson [13] and Tennessee Gov. Winfield Dunn, both of whom governed states that swung from Wallace to Rockefeller; and Winthrop Rockefeller, former Governor of Arkansas and brother to the Presidential candidate, who campaigned for him throughout the South.

    Those Were the Days followed the campaign throughout 1972, and anticipated it throughout 1971. The second episode of the series, "Writing the President", featured Richard writing a letter of praise to President Humphrey, which inspires Archie to write a condemnation, famously imagining his scathing criticisms being read on-air in a dream sequence. Episodes produced in the second season included "The Election Story", airing in late 1971, and covering a local election (in which it is revealed that Archie last voted for Rockefeller – in 1958) [14]; and "The Man in the Street", in which Archie is polled to answer a topical question, and will appear on that evening's news with Walter Cronkite. However, not all episodes were so narrowly focused. A purely comedic episode featuring Sammy Davis, Jr. was one of the most highly-regarded. Two episodes also featured Edith's cousin Maude Findlay, the antithesis of Archie, played by veteran stage actress Beatrice Arthur; the second would serve as a backdoor pilot for her own series, "Maude", which premiered in the 1972-73 season.

    ---

    [1] Richard is essentially an effete milquetoast; basically the "Sensitive New Age Guy" before his time. His passion for left-wing politics is more intellectual, his convictions more patronizing. He's also more fastidious in his appearance. Contrast Michael from All in the Family, who was loudmouthed, hot-headed, and obnoxious. It's not easier to like Richard than it is to like Michael, but it's harder to dislike him.

    [2] Gloria on All in the Family was a classic case of Depending On The Writer; Sally Struthers, in turn, was only as good as the material she was given. Marshall, a more consistent performer than Struthers, also seeks greater creative input (a logical assumption, given her eventual directorial career IOTL). Thus the contrast of the modern young woman with her mother strengthens the interactions between both characters. She's also more assertive in general, to compensate for Richard being more passive.

    [3] Archie's portrayal is slightly more sympathetic ITTL, given the overall theme of his generation being left behind, or being forced to adapt to the rapidly changing society. This ties in nicely to O'Connor's interpretation, held even IOTL, viewing Archie and his ignorance as victims of circumstance. To compensate for this, he is the aggressor more often in his confrontations with Richard, whereas on All in the Family he and Michael were about equally quarrelsome.

    [4] Given the candidates, 1972 is often reckoned as the height of the liberal consensus, much as 1924 was reckoned as the height of the conservative consensus IOTL. In both cases, a strong third-party candidate emerges to challenge that paradigm.

    [5] The Archie Bunker vote was a real-life phenomenon – and it spoke to the tremendous cultural cachet of the show that it was already being discussed ahead of the 1972 election. All in the Family correctly predicted that they would overwhelmingly break for Nixon; IOTL, Tricky Dick carried Archie's native Queens, the last Republican candidate to do so. ITTL, though Wallace does not wins Queens outright, it is his best New York City borough by a considerable margin (Brooklyn and Staten Island are too "ethnic" to vote AIP in large numbers).

    [6] Romney was appointed Secretary for Housing and Urban Development by President Richard Nixon in 1969 IOTL; here, Nixon is not elected, and Romney accordingly finishes his term as Governor of Michigan. Deciding that he would need foreign policy experience for a later run at the Presidency, he runs for the Senate in 1970, narrowly defeating incumbent Democrat Philip A. Hart. (IOTL, his wife Lenore ran instead, as a proxy, and was defeated by Hart in a landslide.)

    [7] Laxalt did not seek re-election to the office of Governor in 1970 IOTL.

    [8] For obvious reasons, the AIP also does not appear on the ballot in DC.

    [9] Schmitz was defeated for renomination to his Congressional seat in the 1972 election IOTL, thanks to finagling by none other than President Richard Nixon. Here, he becomes enraged at Rockefeller's nomination as Presidential candidate, and decides to abandon the GOP in protest. Schmitz was the AIP candidate for President that year IOTL; here he settles for joining Wallace on the ticket. Andrew J. Hinshaw wins the nomination contest to replace Schmitz, and is duly elected to replace him.

    [10] All eleven AIP/ADP Congressmen are from the South: 4 from Alabama, 3 from Louisiana, and one each from Mississippi, Arkansas, Georgia, and South Carolina. Both the Democrats and the Republicans make a point of not inviting those members to caucus with them.

    [11] Maddox would become the AIP candidate for President in 1976 IOTL. Here, he runs for Senate while sitting as the incumbent Lieutenant Governor, narrowly defeating Democrat Sam Nunn (the OTL victor) and Republican Fletcher Thompson in a three-way race.

    [12] Among the candidates to be returned to the Senate are Republicans Margaret Chase Smith of Maine, and Gordon L. Allott of Colorado. Among those challengers to be defeated are Democrat Joe Biden of Delaware, and AIP candidate Jesse Helms of North Carolina. Note that the tally includes changed election results in the previous election, including Romney's victory in Michigan.

    [13] Watson lost the 1970 gubernatorial election IOTL; here, he narrowly succeeds.

    [14] "Writing the President", IOTL, naturally had Michael writing a letter critical of Nixon, and Archie writing a letter of praise in response. The Rockefeller tidbit in "The Election Story" replaces an OTL tidbit, in which it is revealed that Archie last voted for Nixon - in 1960.

    ---

    Special thanks to vultan for his assistance and very helpful suggestions on this update!

    So there you have it, the 1972 election results, and the continuing broadcast history of Those Were the Days, provided in more or less equal measures. It's certainly not all sunshine and roses for the USA; the population, as IOTL, is highly politicized and increasingly polarized. We can only be grateful that everything seems to be going smoothly, now and for the foreseeable future. Though things can always change...

    To those of you who dislike politics, I apologize. I promise that this will be the high-water mark of political coverage for quite some time to come. As always, I aspire to cover all aspects of TTL from a pop culture perspective, and I will continue to do so in the future.


    Archie Bunker.jpg
     
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    The Inexorable March of Progress(ive Rock)
  • The Inexorable March of Progress(ive Rock)

    The continuing popularity of the science-fiction genre continued to make its presence known in television and the movies – where, alongside Porno Chic and Blaxploitation, it was one of the key "fad" genres of the early 1970s. Naturally, it too was subject to the raw, gritty Z-grade exploitation treatment that defined the era. Roger Corman directed (and later produced) a number of schlocky science-fiction films in this era – though, as was always the case with speculative fiction, describing the precise genre of any work was always more art than science. And indeed, this became a major point of contention. [1] The Saturn Awards, first presented in 1972, specifically recognized only science-fiction, to the consternation of many within the community (Harlan Ellison, for example, wrote two separate essays on the subject), but in practice nominated several works more aptly described as fantasy and horror.

    The tried-and-true route of adaptations of classic works by H.G. Wells and Jules Verne was carefully followed during this period. Many of the heaviest hitters had already been adapted in the 1950s and 1960s, however, and some of their lesser-known stories were chosen instead; this policy yielded mixed results. However, theirs was not the only material that was mined for adaptation; The Andromeda Strain, the smash-hit novel by a current author, Michael Crichton, was also turned into a major motion picture in 1971. [2] On the television side of the ledger, many shows had come and gone, none managing to match the success of Star Trek, increasingly regarded as lightning in a bottle; precious few were even able to crack the Top 30. It seemed that more successful science-fiction programming – from Doctor Who to "UFO" – were British in origin, cementing the notion of a second wave of the British Invasion.

    Certainly, big ideas continued to percolate with regards to genre programming on television. Producer Glen Larson wanted to create a science-fiction setting informed by his Mormonism, as Gene Roddenberry had created Star Trek, informed by his secular humanism. [3] He had begun to devise such a potential series as early as 1968, when it had become clear that Star Trek was successful, but development was slow going. His ideas for big effects and spectacular visuals raised a great many eyebrows among network executives, and the studios balked at his projected price tag. Even Desilu, the most lavish outfit in the television industry, declined to commit; Lucille Ball did not want her studio so tightly pigeonholed. In addition, she, along with Herb Solow and Robert Justman (who, admittedly, were too close to be fully objective) felt strongly that Star Trek was an extremely tough act to follow in that arena. However, Larson did have an "in" with someone very close to the voyages of the Starship Enterprise: Gene L. Coon, who agreed to serve as consultant to Larson for the duration of his show's development, however long that would take. [4]

    And then there was James Bond. The venerable spy series, a symbol of the Swinging Sixties, was beginning to fall behind the times. The initial departure of Sean Connery after completing the first five films resulted in the disastrous miscasting of Australian George Lazenby for On Her Majesty’s Secret Service – Lazenby obviously felt the same way, for he had declined to return for the follow-up, Diamonds Are Forever, presciently sensing that the spy genre was in decline. The producers, Albert "Cubby" Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, were able to lure Connery back for one last hurrah, but even he could not recapture the magic of his original run for the resultant film. [5] Despite a strong performance at the box office, reviews were ambivalent; and Connery declined to return for any subsequent sequels, forcing the producers to cast a third Bond in as many films.

    In addition to deciding on an actor to play the lead role, a decision would also have to made as to which Ian Fleming novel would next be adapted. In the end, the dictates of societal changes forced their hand. At the start of pre-production, Moonshot Lunacy and the continuing wave of science-fiction dominated popular culture, and inspired the producers to consider an outer-space setting. The nearest match among the Fleming novels – however tenuous it might have been – was Moonraker, so that was chosen; the script would be heavily re-written. [6] Given the science-fiction setting, an actor with experience in the genre was considered an asset. Thus, "UFO" star Michael Billington was chosen as the third James Bond. Relatively youthful, like both Connery and Lazenby when they first essayed the role, he was chosen over runner-up Roger Moore. [7] Both Billington and Moore were known to American audiences, Moore having appeared in the 1960s program, "The Saint". Moore's age (three years older than Connery, and in his mid-forties) coupled with his close association with the passé aspects of 1960s culture, resulted in his being passed over.

    Against the backdrop of the impact of science-fiction on television and film was the effect it had on music. Progressive Rock, or "Prog", reached the mainstream at this time, and it was the first popular genre in decades to predominantly focus on themes other than love and/or sex. [8] It became known for complex musical arrangements and narrative-driven lyrics, part compositional virtuosity and part epic poetry; essentially, opera for the twentieth century. The subject matter of many songs, even whole albums (in particular concept albums), was science-fiction, along with fantasy; among the key influences were authors in both genres. In another sign of the enduring British Invasion, many of the leading lights of this style themselves hailed from Britain. [9]

    Funk proliferated primarily through its ubiquity in the two other defining film genres of the era, Blaxploitation and Porno Chic. The emphasis on instrumentation, the simple, direct, and occasionally crude lyrics, and the casual "jam" atmosphere of the music stood in marked contrast to the far more elaborate and carefully structured melodies and fanciful lyrics of progressive rock. As is so often the case, preference for one of the two styles took on more meaningful connotations: Prog came to be seen as "White" music, and Funk as "Black" music. [10] Though this was far from universally true, it spoke to the interconnectedness of various facets of popular culture.

    ---

    [1] What is emerging ITTL is a weaker delineation between the various genres of speculative fiction; instead, a popular interpretation sees them as part of a continuum. This mitigates the OTL classification problem with terms like "science fantasy", "gothic horror", or "haunted house in space". On the other hand, mainstream audiences continue to refer to "sci-fi" and little else at this point.

    [2] The Andromeda Strain has a higher budget ITTL, and gets better reviews and higher box-office grosses. Crichton, though not directly involved with the adaptation of his novel, still gets greater cachet, which will help his attempts to transition into screenwriting.

    [3] IOTL, Larson would find success with this idea, but only after the post-Star Wars boom: his series, tentatively titled Adama's Ark, was renamed Battlestar Galactica and aired for one season, 1978-79. (Science-fiction series of the 1970s had short runs.)

    [4] Coon would also advise Larson on the project IOTL, until his death in 1973.

    [5] Diamonds Are Forever - widely regarded one of the weakest films in the Bond canon (and certainly Connery's worst turn therein), actually did very well at the box-office that year IOTL (over $40 million in the US alone, good for #3 overall). It did slightly worse ITTL (enough for Dirty Harry to edge it out - at least in the USA), due to the decreased interest in the spy genre relative to OTL.

    [6] The decision is made early enough that the end credits of Diamonds Are Forever announce that "James Bond Will Return In Moonraker".

    [7] IOTL, of course, the opposite is true. (It should be noted that Billington has screen-tested for the role of Bond more than any other actor.) Here, Billington is signed to a seven-film contract, two more than Connery, and as many as were originally offered to Lazenby.

    [8]
    Though, to be fair, few artists ignore those matters entirely.

    [9] The term "Second British Invasion", musically speaking IOTL, refers to New Wave in the 1980s. Here, it obviously refers to Prog.

    [10] This "racial division" is slightly stronger ITTL than IOTL.

    ---

    Thus concludes the 1971-72 cycle! I hope that this update has shed some light on "being there". Thank you all for reading!
     
    1972-73: The Calm Before the Storm
  • The Calm Before The Storm (1972-73)

    "Hi, Bob!"

    - Everyone on "The Bob Newhart Show"

    There has always been a curious quandary with dividing history into arbitrary periods: the bounds of each period are notoriously difficult to define with anything remotely approaching either pinpoint accuracy, or popular consensus. This is just as true in popular culture as it is everywhere else. And though the trade papers and network executives had unilaterally declared 1971 as the beginning of the "modern" age of television, there continued to be evidence of an industry of transition for a number of years thereafter.

    Desilu Productions entered the 1972-73 television season with as many shows in development (three) as they were actively producing. The steady infusion of cash from Star Trek – in syndication and merchandising revenue alike made it almost impossible to avoid further growth; and indeed, the studio took advantage of this golden opportunity. Some of their new resources were funneled into research and development for their post-production unit, but most of it was focused on the creation of new programming. Although three projects were green-lit for development during the previous season, though only one would begin airing as a regular series in September of 1972.

    In addition to Gene Roddenberry's Genesis II project – which had been renamed Re-Genesis, and would premiere as a telefilm in the spring of 1973 – former Star Trek associate producer Edward K. Milkis, along with his producing partner Thomas L. Miller, and "The Odd Couple" producer Garry Marshall, had pitched a nostalgic sitcom idea about a family living in the 1950s, tentatively titled "New Family In Town". Desilu – headed by Lucille Ball, who had personified that decade, as much as anyone could – seemed the natural port of call for such a series, especially since Paramount Television President Grant Tinker, whose own studio produced "The Odd Couple", was lukewarm at best on the idea of a period piece. [1] The involvement of Desilu no doubt had some impact on the casting of the lead: former child actor Ron Howard (Opie on "Andy Griffith", produced at Desilu) was chosen for the part, which he accepted in hopes of breaking his type casting. But all for naught, or so it would seem: the show didn't sell, and Marshall sold the pilot to "the place where pilots go to die", the anthology series Love, American Style; it aired, as the segment "Love and the Happy Days", in early 1972.

    But the winner in the Desilu sweepstakes was "The Way of the Warrior", developed as simply "The Warrior", a vehicle for Chinese-American martial artist Bruce Lee. [2] It was pitched as a Western, that venerable – and, by 1972, increasingly dated – genre, though from a novel perspective. It would be infused with Oriental philosophy and mysticism, as they were reasonably exotic to television audiences. Lee was drawn to Desilu both for their non-stereotypical portrayal of an Asian-American character (Mr. Sulu in Star Trek) and for their legendary "back forty", with an abundance of Western-style buildings already in place. This appealed to Herb Solow and especially the frugal Robert Justman, who felt the need to justify the use of their extensive backlot, sitting on increasingly expensive real estate. [3]

    It was also an auspicious time for the studio's existing programs: this season would mark the last for "Mission: Impossible". The final episode aired on March 30, 1973; 184 episodes were produced in total, though only Barbara Bain and Greg Morris appeared in all of them. [4] Due to the highly episodic nature of the series, a proper finale was deemed unnecessary, and indeed, the last episode produced was not even the last to air. The flagship thus passed without fanfare to "Mannix", the final remaining Desilu production from the 1960s. Bruce Geller, the creator of both shows, continued to produce for the latter; but, like Gene Roddenberry before him, he was beginning to consider branching out further, perhaps even into motion pictures. [5] Trade papers breathlessly described the two producers as the pillars of Desilu, which was, after all, "the house that Paladin built". However, Geller was a man with many non-industry-related hobbies, in particular aviation; and those kept his time occupied outside of his obligations to "Mannix".

    The new offering from Paramount that season was "The Bob Newhart Show"; it starred the titular button-down comedian, in yet another smartly-written, character-based sitcom, which had become the hallmark of the studio. Newhart, a variety show fixture in the 1960s, decided to take a page from the playbook of his fellow comedian, Bill Cosby, who had enjoyed almost uninterrupted success since his own breakthrough a decade before. [6] "Bob Newhart" cast the naturally reactive, understated comedian in an ideal screen role: psychologist, with a revolving door of quirky patients for him to play against. Taken as a whole, the show was somewhat more self-consciously eccentric than other sitcoms, even within the Paramount stable. Newhart had refused to be cast as a father, as the developers had intended; he abhorred the stereotype of the "bumbling dad" though, to be fair, there was a conspicuous absence of children throughout the Paramount lineup, excluding the school-set "Room 222". Even "Barefoot in the Park", about a young married couple, had an utter lack of progeny; star Robert Reed was said to despise the very notion, fearing that it would ruin him as a young leading man. [7]

    The season was a banner year for Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin, and their studio, Tandem Productions, which produced three shows: Those Were the Days, "Sanford and Son", and "Maude", the breakout hit of the season. All three finished in the Top 5, alongside "Hawaii Five-O" and the NBC Sunday Mystery Movie. Those Were the Days repeated as the top-rated show of the season, unsurprising given the show's clever exploitation of the election year events that were unfolding. Companion series "Sanford and Son" finished at #2, displacing "Flip Wilson", but maintaining the plateau reached by a series headlined by a black performer.

    All three of the westerns on NBC – "Bonanza", "The Virginian", and "The High Chaparral" – were cancelled at the end of the season, an event sometimes facetiously described as the "End of the Old West". The last vestiges of the old order were being swept away; television was truly the province of young, modern, and urban audiences. Only "Bonanza" had (barely) remained in the Top 30 for the season; network executives often lamented that the other two shows had not been cancelled sooner. Indeed, "Chaparral" was not the only casualty of the once-bedrock NBC Monday Night schedule: "Laugh-In", the #1 show on television just three years before, had fallen out of the Top 30, and was also cancelled. Only Doctor Who (airing at 8:00) and "The Bill Cosby Show" (at 9:30, though it was moved to 8:30 for the following season) survived unscathed, with the network deciding to devote the rest of the night to the movies.

    Despite the shakeup at the Peacock Network, NBC was actually doing fairly well. Ten of their shows finished in the Top 30, with an admirable six ranking within the Top 10. CBS also had ten Top 30 programs on the air, though only four in the Top 10. ABC, naturally, had the remaining ten Top 30 shows, but none in the Top 10, an utter humiliation for the Alphabet Network. [8] They were last shut out of the Top 10 during the 1968-69 season, and the intervening years had been very good for them; nervous executives put on a brave face and insisted that this was but a temporary setback for them, and that they would soon be on their feet again.

    At the Emmy Awards for that season, handed out in May, 1973, Those Were the Days won Outstanding Comedy Series for the third year in a row. However, none of the cast would win (though all four regulars were nominated). Instead, the cast of "Mary Tyler Moore" (all of whom were also nominated) [9], won in every category for which they were eligible. Moore herself won for Lead, with Ted Knight and Valerie Harper winning the Supporting Emmys. For Outstanding Lead Actor, Jack Klugman won for "The Odd Couple". Meanwhile, on the Dramatic side of the ledger, "Spencer's Mountain", based on the novel and film of the same name [10], won the Emmy for Series, along with all four Acting awards. This "grand slam" had been unprecedented for any program at a single awards ceremony. In addition, "The Carol Burnett Show" won Outstanding Variety Series. It was the standard mix of new faces and the old guard typical of the Emmy Awards.

    It also marked a conventional ending to a season that served as the harbinger to an uncomfortably interesting future

    ---

    [1] IOTL, Paramount (not headed by Grant Tinker) did indeed produce "Happy Days". Then again, Desilu didn't exist.

    [2] Popular legend has it that, IOTL, Bruce Lee pitched "The Warrior" to the producers of what eventually became "Kung Fu"; they then chose to cast European-American actor David Carradine as the half-Chinese, half-American protagonist, Kwai Chang Caine, presumably believing that an Asian-American lead would not sell. (Lee was primarily known at this time as Kato, sidekick to the Green Hornet).

    [3] Real estate that was sold by Paramount in 1968, IOTL; if you're wondering why Star Trek so rarely shot on location in its third season, that's one of the key reasons (along with continuous budget cutbacks, of course). The backlot was demolished entirely in 1976.

    [4] "Mission: Impossible" also ran for seven seasons IOTL, though only 171 episodes were produced. Morris alone appeared in every episode; Bain having departed with her husband, Martin Landau, after the third season.

    [5] IOTL, Geller produced – and even directed! – a film called Harry in Your Pocket, which starred James Coburn. He does not do so IOTL, instead focusing on his producing duties for "Mannix", and toying with developing pitches for new shows.

    [6] "The Bill Cosby Show" continues to run on NBC, and finishes in the Top 30 yet again for the season. It is one of three such series with an African-American lead on the network; the other two, "Sanford and Son" and "Flip Wilson", both make the Top 10. ("Julia" had been cancelled at the end of the previous season, but with over 100 episodes, it is quickly sold into syndication and "stripped").

    [7] According to Growing Up Brady, this is one of the many, many reasons that Reed detested "The Brady Bunch" IOTL.

    [8] In the 1972-73 season IOTL, CBS had thirteen shows in the Top 30, and six in the Top 10, including the top-rated All in the Family; ABC followed with ten in the Top 30, though none in the Top 10 (their highest-rated show being "Marcus Welby, M.D.", at #13). NBC brought up the rear with just seven shows in the Top 30, though four of these finished in the Top 10 (including "Sanford and Son" at #2). ABC thus isn't actually doing worse than IOTL, but NBC is doing better, and it's all about optics. Heads have rolled for much less.

    [9] Gavin McLeod, universally regarded as the weak link in the "Mary Tyler Moore" cast, gets his nomination ITTL largely by filling one of the voids that would have been occupied by the members of the supporting cast of "M*A*S*H" IOTL.

    [10] The television adaptation was known IOTL as "The Waltons".

    ---

    Premiering alongside "Maude" and "Bob Newhart" in this season IOTL, of course, was "M*A*S*H", which will never adapted from the original movie ITTL. Weep for the career of Alan Alda; he'll have to find some other soapbox. The opening quote, in honour of the wonderful commenters on this thread, is the trigger to television's most famous drinking game: whenever anyone says it, drink!

    It's been over a month since the beginning of the previous season, and it's really nice to just come back and talk about the television landscape again. It's like coming home for the holidays. You know that, eventually, you'll have to go back out into the world, but you still have a chance to relive your carefree, innocent childhood :D I hope that you all enjoyed it, too!
     
    Appendix A, Part VI: Star Trek, the Show That Wouldn't Die
  • Appendix A, Part VI: Star Trek, The Show That Wouldn't Die

    And here we are with the sixth, and final, production appendix for Star Trek. This is the second of two "epilogue" updates with regards to the development, history, and legacy of Star Trek ITTL. (As always, editorial notes and comparison points to OTL will be highlighted in RED and placed in brackets.) This post will chronicle the beginnings of the show's legacy, and the long shadow it will cast over everything that comes thereafter; or, what I like to call the "TV Tropes approach"

    ---

    "Fans love to argue whether Star Trek is about the Big Three or the Big Four. But I have to say that both groups are wrong. The real command crew behind the many adventures of the Starship Enterprise are four men and one woman – the Big Five, if you will. And no, they're not the men and woman you think they are – though Nichelle Nichols is a very lovely lady, without question."

    David Gerrold, The World of Star Trek, 1973

    In 1972, one of the biggest hits on television was Star Trek. This may seem peculiar to the uninitiated, knowing that the show had ended the previous year. But the series had become a smash success in syndication; much like another Desilu production, I Love Lucy, did over a decade earlier, and had remained ever since. It helped that the sale of Star Trek into syndication had coincided with the enactment of the Prime Time Access Rule, which gave the network affiliates one full hour between the national news and the beginning of primetime, to schedule as they saw fit. This hour was the most valuable for the network affiliates, as it had the most viewers of any timeslot under their direct control. (Even IOTL, the present two highest-rated syndicated series – "Wheel of Fortune" and "Jeopardy!" air from 7:00 to 8:00.)

    Summer reruns of the series had consistently performed very well during the show's original run, with excellent demographic retention, to boot. Starting in the fall of 1971, all 135 syndicated episodes were "stripped" into a 27-week, five-days-a-week rotation. The first-season episodes, never widely seen during their original run, were rediscovered; considered hidden gems, they met with widespread approval, despite their obvious limitations. Ratings were gangbusters, and by the beginning of the 1972-73 season, Star Trek could be seen at 7:00 PM in nearly 200 markets across the United States. (There are 210 media markets in the USA - the largest of which is New York City, and the surrounding area; and the smallest of which is Glendive, a small town in Eastern Montana: population 6,300 in 1970, and even smaller today.) Under the terms of a previous agreement between Desilu and NBC, those stations owned and operated by the Peacock Network were given the first opportunity to buy the syndication rights to Star Trek within their specific markets; many of them would indeed avail themselves of that opportunity. The same agreement forbade stations owned and operated by the other two networks (ABC and CBS) from buying the syndication rights to the series, unless there were no other interested buyers within their market. These two clauses, taken together, resulted in the majority of stations airing Star Trek having an affiliation with NBC. This arrangement had become so prevalent that advertising promoting "Star Trek at 7:00 weeknights on NBC" was produced by the network, and shown nationwide.

    Fans of Star Trek were myriad, and were known for their devotion; they had became popularly known as "Trekkies", and would devise many novel ways of celebrating their fandom. (Star Trek fans are more numerous, more diverse, and more mainstream than their OTL counterparts at this time. The atmosphere isn't nearly as conducive to an elitist "hardcore", and therefore the terms "Trekker" or "Trekkist" will never emerge ITTL.) Perhaps the most notorious
    and certainly the most elaborate of these, were the Star Trek Conventions: massive congregations of fans in a single space, in a short period of time (usually a few days at most), featuring a wide variety of events: these included costume contests, scene re-enactments, script readings, re-watching reels of episodes, and, above all, meeting with the cast and crew. They were already a regular occurrence during the show's original run, with many of the people behind Star Trek actively participating in the larger and more centrally-located events. (The development of Star Trek conventions were more organic ITTL, with promotional events gradually evolving into full-fledged conventions. The early OTL lore of some yahoo deciding to throw something together and receiving thousands of unexpected visitors will not be present here.) Some of them took to these conventions more than others: David Gerrold, himself a fan before joining the writing staff (and who, accordingly, was sometimes described as "the first Trekkie"), found himself serving as the primary liaison between the production team and the fans. (The same position he held IOTL, more or less; though obviously, given his longer and more integral association with the program ITTL, it carries a lot more weight.) Of the cast members, James "Scotty" Doohan embraced the conventions most enthusiastically, always happy to meet with fans, and eager to entertain with song and story. (Just as IOTL.) His rapport with the fandom no doubt contributed to the hotly contested notion of Star Trek as being about the Big Four, rather than the Big Three. (Along with Scotty's more prominent role ITTL, though they obviously don't have that perspective.) From very early on, these congregations would attract people in very large numbers. The most successful of the early conventions, held during the show's original run (though just barely), was the "Summer of Star Trek" Convention, which took place on June 25-27, 1971, just one week prior to the airing of the series finale in July. The entire cast and crew was present at the event in Los Angeles, attended by tens of thousands of people. Among the special guests were Doctor Who actors Jon Pertwee and Connie Booth, whose own series would begin airing stateside in September, in the timeslot being vacated by Star Trek.

    But conventions were far from the only means fans had of expressing their appreciation. Fan literature was ridiculously common, with newsletters and fan magazines very widely disseminated. These would typically contain articles discussing episodes and characters, editorials on the quality and direction of the show (while it was still running), and essays on its legacy, and on the completed story arcs for various characters and events (after it had finished). Fan art was also commonplace, with subjects ranging from head shots of the characters, to re-creations of famous scenes, to more speculative drawings of events mentioned but never explicitly shown on the series. Many of the more talented artists would even hawk their wares, often at Star Trek conventions; though they would have to be discreet doing so, to avoid flouting copyright laws. Desilu, in turn, did their best to maintain a veneer of plausible deniability.

    And then there was fan fiction. The concept was actually an ancient one (later revisions of The Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest surviving work of literature, are in fact fan fiction, loosely speaking), but it was Star Trek that re-defined the term for the modern, copyright-bound society, finishing the work started by Sherlock Holmes. Fan fiction writers relatively young and disproportionately female (Fan fiction has always been a female-dominated venture, which has informed many popular trends therein. Not that men don't write fan fiction, of course.) tended to use the device to explore alternative interpretations of their beloved characters, or more notoriously to insert representatives (or avatars) of themselves into the Star Trek universe to share adventures with the Enterprise crew. These characters, generally speaking, were all of the following: improbably young; female; attractive, often in a very peculiar way; possessed of unbelievable skills or talents; and either related to or the romantic interest of Kirk, Spock, Bones, or Scotty. Their ilk came to be known as "Mary Sues" after a fan fiction author named Paula Smith wrote a satirical story featuring such a character by that name in 1973. (This is the exact origin of the term "Mary Sue" IOTL. I kept the name because Smith no doubt disliked it, and may well have nursed such a grudge against it for some time perhaps even going back before the POD. Note that, IOTL, the "Mary Sue" type can be found in fan fiction of all works, not just Star Trek, and is usually known for traits analogous to the ones described above. In the early 1970s, many "Mary Sue" characters were known for tragic deaths, typically in the form of heroic sacrifices; but this trait is much more rare today.)

    Just as controversial as the "Mary Sue" phenomenon was the tendency by many authors to presuppose traits
    or relationships that were not said to exist in canon. In particular, the notion of a homosexual subtext between Captain James T. Kirk and his First Officer, Mr. Spock, had dogged both characters almost from the very beginning; though discussion about the topic was given the intolerance of such relationships in the era highly guarded. But subscribers to this theory were highly tenacious, and it continued to simmer, finally boiling over once the American Psychiatric Association removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders in 1973. Even once it became acceptable to advocate the theory out loud, however, it met with strong opposition; many were insistent that Kirk and Spock were simply good friends. Fiction concerning the relationship between Kirk and Spock thereafter had to be classified as being about the friendship between them, or "Kirk&Spock", or the romantic love between them, or "Kirk/Spock". The slash representing this interpretation quickly came to define it, with the word "slash" becoming a shorthand for a depiction, or even interpretation, of romantic love between them, with adherents becoming known as "slashers". (Yes, IOTL, the term "slash fiction", meaning "contains gay relationships", literally originates from that slash between Kirk and Spock. It demonstrates how profoundly influential Star Trek has been on the core concepts of fandom.)

    A far more benign, though just as fiercely debated, pastime among the fans was deciding which of the 135 or so episodes of Star Trek represented the show's very best. Polls were very common throughout the early 1970s, and many yielded similar, or even identical, results. Below is a list of the ten most frequently appearing episodes on "best-of" lists:

    • "The City on the Edge of Forever"
    • "Amok Time"
    • "The Trouble with Tribbles"
    • "Journey to Babel"
    • "The Enterprise Incident"
    • "Joanna"
    • "Yesteryear"
    • "The Sleepers of Selene"
    • "The Borderland"
    • "These Were the Voyages"
    (Only the first two of those episodes are made in substantially the same form as IOTL. The next three are superficially similar, though with moderate differences, mostly for the better. All subsequent episodes were not made IOTL, though "Yesteryear" loosely resembles the animated series episode of the same name. Among those episodes that just missed the cut: "Balance of Terror", "Mirror, Mirror", "The Doomsday Machine", "The Tholian Web", and "Bondage and Freedom". Unlike IOTL, "The City on the Edge of Forever" is not widely regarded as the best episode of the series; the greater diversity in subject matter of those most acclaimed episodes hamper any consensus, but "These Were The Voyages", by virtue of being a suitably grand finale, probably gets the overall nod.)

    Even a show as beloved as Star Trek was not without flaws. A few episodes were generally considered flawed to the point of having no redeeming qualities, and the five that appeared most often on "worst-of" lists are as follows:

    • "The Alternative Factor"
    • "Catspaw"
    • "A Private Little War"
    • "The Paradise Syndrome"
    • "The Savage Syndrome"
    (All of the first four episodes were made in substantially the same form as IOTL; the fifth was never made. Note that "The Alternative Factor", in this editor's opinion the only real clunker of the first season, was ruined by miscasting: the original actor for Lazarus did not report for work, and the actress chosen as Lt. Masters was black; thus the planned romance subplot between them was scrapped, with nothing to fill the void. Unlike IOTL with "Spock's Brain" – never produced ITTL there is no universally agreed-upon "Worst Episode Ever".)

    And then there were the people actively involved with the making of Star Trek, all of whom would spend the rest of their lives dealing with the long shadow that its legacy would cast over them. Some of them would do so with more flair than others, of course. In retrospect, with hindsight being 20/20, many of them would have very different opinions about their lives and their impact on popular culture than they did in the early 1970s, as it suddenly became clear that Star Trek would be much more than a five-year mission for them

    Leonard Nimoy spent most of late 1971 in rehab for his alcoholism, hoping to turn his life around after his tumultuous years on Star Trek. Mr. Spock, who had won him three Emmy awards, was the most iconic on the program, and Nimoy was very ambivalent about his success. Though he admired the ideals of the series, and the depth and appeal of his character, he was not Spock. After his stint in rehab had ended, he sought solace and spiritual guidance in his faith. (As Nimoy has done throughout his life IOTL. It seemed only logical that he would do so ITTL, after having hit rock bottom.) The one temporal activity that had stirred his passions in recent years had been directing, and he opted to continue with that, rather than acting, once he got clean. (Simple cause-and-effect: he gets into directing earlier, he decides to stick with it. His relative youth
    he is only 40 years old in 1971 combined with this being the height of the New Hollywood Era helps.) He managed to get some assignments on other Desilu shows, thanks to his close association with Solow and Justman; and he soon discovered that he had a real knack for comedy. (As he does IOTL. What does it mean, exact change?)

    DeForest Kelley entered into semi-retirement. With great reluctance, due to his personal shyness, he did participate in the convention circuit, largely to pad his nest egg and pay for the additional creature comforts. In contrast to the incredible turmoil facing some of his former castmates, he took great pride in his peaceful and serene life, and was known to brag that he was "alive and well and living in the valley with the very same wife". (He often made this boast IOTL as well – he remained married to his beloved wife Carolyn, till death they did part.) As was true during the run of the series, he remained on good terms with the cast and crew of Star Trek, refusing to participate in the rather vicious gossip and rumours clouding the rest of the major players.

    James Doohan embraced the convention circuit like none other. His acting career was effectively over with the end of Star Trek, for he,
    like so many of his castmates, had become profoundly typecast. To his surprise, though, he was offered work – in his native Canada; the CBC had invited him to host an informative series about space exploration (Think Cosmos, but on a lower budget, and with a much stronger emphasis on present and potential future means of space travel. Moonshot Lunacy in action.), and even offered him a flexible schedule to maintain his US residence and continue his convention rounds. This was not enough, however, to prevent the breakdown of his second marriage, which ended in divorce in 1973. (It ended in 1972 IOTL – I'm going to allow that being Mrs. Scotty had more allure ITTL.) Doohan was also able to sway the court of public opinion against William Shatner; with his vividly-told horror stories, he served as something of a star witness for the prosecution. The feud between the two Canadians became the stuff of legend.

    Nichelle Nichols, a double minority – black and female – was contacted by NASA, up to that point a white man's club. They invited her to participate in minority recruitment efforts, a task she handled with aplomb. (She also served in this role IOTL. We'll see the fruits of her labour soon enough.) She served on several committees promoting diversity and racial integration, optimistic that she could, in some small way, work to continue the efforts of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a man she had known personally, and deeply admired. (He had convinced her to remain on Star Trek, IOTL and ITTL.) Her awareness of her position as a role model for young black women precluded several of the opportunities presented to her: Playboy had published nudes of Nichols, taken earlier in her career, and had even invited her to return; though she quickly rebuffed this obvious publicity stunt. (Yes, Nichols really did pose for nudes in the early-to-mid-1960s, which can easily be found on the internet.) She also declined the offer to star in many Blaxploitation films, as she personally found the genre abhorrent.

    George Takei was perhaps the most successful of the entire cast in the early 1970s – with the proviso that his achievements were in a very different occupation from the one for which he was known. It was fitting, given that his career trajectory matched that of the Governor of California, former B-movie actor Ronald Reagan. Takei served as a delegate to the 1972 Democratic National Convention, re-nominating the incumbent President and Vice-President on that party’s ticket. (Takei was chosen as an alternate delegate IOTL; his greater fame serves as a more robust springboard for his political advocacy, and it also helps that the Democrats hold the White House.) He also campaigned vigorously for Hubert H. Humphrey, helping him to (narrowly) win the Golden State in the election that year. Intensely interested in civic planning, Takei decided to run for the Los Angeles City Council, winning the 10th District seat in a landslide in the election of 1973, at the age of 36. (He came in second IOTL, losing the vacant seat to David S. Cunningham, Jr., by about 1,600 votes. He never sought elected office again.) His campaign was not without controversy, though not for any of the typical reasons; KNBC, the LA-area station which aired syndicated reruns of Star Trek in that market, suspended all airings of episodes featuring Takei for the duration of the campaign in accordance with the FCC Equal-Time Rule. (Something similar happened IOTL;
    the animated Star Trek series, airing in first-run at the time, had to reschedule an episode which featured his character because of it.) Mr. Sulu was absent from only 29 out of 135 shows, which would become immortalized as the "Campaign Episodes". (About half of those episodes are from the second season, during which, as IOTL, Takei was on leave, filming The Green Berets with John Wayne.)

    Walter Koenig had three children with his wife Judy Levitt: two sons, both born during his run on Star Trek, in 1968 and 1970; and a daughter, born in 1973. (Only the first son, Andrew
    – later known as Boner on "Growing Pains" – and the daughter, Danielle, was born IOTL. The couple's stronger financial security and the increased optimism of the early 1970s result in the decision to have one more child.) Koenig gamely attempted to continue his television career after Star Trek, with predictably limited success; he increasingly spent his time acting on stage, along with writing, which began as a mere hobby. (Koenig wrote the animated series episode "The Infinite Vulcan" IOTL, among other things. His more comfortable lifestyle ITTL avails him the opportunity to try his hand at writing as a semi-professional early on.)

    Oddly enough, perhaps the only actor whose stint on Star Trek had little net effect on his overall career trajectory was John Winston, whose character of Mr. Kyle was far and away the most shallowly defined of the regulars. Winston himself, a regular on the convention circuit, was known to remark that the character was "little more than a job description". (More or less what Winston thinks of Kyle IOTL. It was work, he liked the people – not much else to say about it, in his mind.) He made many appearances on television, both stateside and across the pond, in subsequent years, with viewers experiencing the familiar "Hey! It's That Guy!" reaction whenever they would see him.

    Without a doubt, the biggest reality check was written out to the star, William Shatner, who found himself utterly unable to find work after Star Trek had ended. His reputation as a bloated, narcissistic egotist – perhaps the biggest working in television, which was certainly saying something – preceded him. His third and final album of spoken-word "music", The Enterprising Man, bombed upon release, with even die-hard Trekkies avoiding it like the plague. For all the veneration bestowed upon his iconic character of Captain James T. Kirk, it did not extend to him personally. Even his one supposedly unimpeachable virtue
    – his status as a family man and beloved father – was challenged when his wife, Gloria Rand, took him to the cleaners in a very messy, and very public, divorce, toward the end of the show's run. (Shatner and Rand divorced in 1969 IOTL– his greater success has postponed the inevitable. But as IOTL, once it becomes clear that Star Trek is finished, Rand wants out. What changes is that the divorce goes from the mere footnote of OTL to a major story in the supermarket tabloids ITTL.) Before too long, he was reduced to shilling for margarine and grocery store chains.

    Most of the "Big Five" did their best to move on, as many of them had wanted to do for several years already, by the time the show came to an end. Gene Roddenberry almost immediately set to work developing the series that eventually emerged as Re-Genesis, which would begin airing in September 1973; Gene Coon retired from the hectic life of active production and started a consulting business; D.C. Fontana found herself awash with offers from employees eager to hire a woman with ample experience in science-fiction; her most interesting offer came from the producers of Doctor Who. Herb Solow, of course, continued to work for Desilu, having become known within the industry as "Lucille Ball's secret weapon" (a term which That Wacky Redhead herself often uses ITTL); he hired Justman to serve as his lieutenant in order to better pinch the studio's pennies, the better to counter the spendthrift nature of Ball's husband, Gary Morton.

    David Gerrold, after the end of Star Trek, went primarily into writing books
    – both fiction and non-fiction. His duties as chronicler culminated in the 1973 tome, The World of Star Trek, considered the definitive reference book on the series. (The Star Trek Concordance, written by Bjo Trimble, served this function in the early years of OTL. However, ITTL, Trimble does not get her springboard into fandom infamy – the OTL letter-writing campaign to renew the show for a third season – and remains obscure.) Gerrold was able to pull a few strings and get Desilu to officially authorize the book, in exchange for a cut of the profits. It was another classic example of the studio showing their responsiveness to fan interest, without losing sight of their bottom line. (The ever-frugal Justman suggested "authorizing" the book.) Gerrold also made it his mission to write "revised" editions of many existing episode novelizations, which were made using obsolete scripts; Desilu again allowed this, knowing that certain fans would happily purchase both versions of each book. Merchandising revenue from Star Trek was already the studio's life-blood. (As IOTL – the difference being that Desilu actually cares about Star Trek.)

    The glory days of the "Big Five" would not last, sadly, with the first major casualty to hit Star Trek striking in late 1973; Gene Coon, a lifelong chain-smoker, died of terminal lung cancer. He was 49. (Coon died on July 8th of that year IOTL; because of his success with Star Trek, he's able to live out the last two years of his life in greater comfort, and he dies on October 24th ITTL.) A close friend to all four other members of the Big Five, and a mentor figure to Gerrold, his death hit all of them very hard. Star Trek would never be the same without his incalculable guiding influence. All future editions of The World of Star Trek would be dedicated to his memory.

    ---

    Thus ends our in-depth coverage of Star Trek, and my longest update, to boot! Thank you all for reading; I hope that wasn't too much of an ordeal. Now you know the complete story of Star Trek ITTL, and my interpretation of the best it can be, while also resembling, as strongly as possible, the Star Trek of OTL. To answer this question, posed to me over four months ago:

    How will Star Trek change?

    There is your answer. That is how. There you go :)

    And, following in the footsteps of my fictional interpretation of a (still living!) historical figure, who may yet discover this thread and completely contradict everything that has been said: I hereby dedicate the entirety of Appendix A to the memory of Gene L. Coon. I hope that this timeline has helped, in some small way, to ensure that he is no longer "the forgotten Gene", now or in the future.
     
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    Night and Day
  • Night and Day

    "A fortune in fabulous prizes may go to these people today if they know when The Price is Right!"

    - Johnny Olson, Announcer for The New Price is Right

    For all the care and attention devoted to those few precious hours of primetime, all three networks were an all-day operation. Though most of those other hours were reserved for the personal use and discretion of the various affiliates, the networks did produce additional programming for these off hours – in a wide range of formats and styles – which most affiliates chose to broadcast, in lieu of having to spend their own money to produce original programming, or to purchase syndicated shows.

    Three genres of programming predominated during the standard workday of 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM, during the week: Game shows, which allowed contestants to compete for prizes; talk shows, which consisted of a host interviewing various guests; and soap operas, which were serialized melodramas. All three of these tended to appeal to the older, female audiences who were expected to be watching television during these hours; the Women's Liberation Movement was driving younger women out of the house to seek employment and equality, and housewives were becoming a slowly dying breed. But this was a demographic collapse that would become a problem in the medium-to-long-term; in the early 1970s, these daytime audiences remained plentiful, and highly lucrative.

    The early 1970s were seeing game shows – infamously hobbled by the Quiz Show Scandals of the 1950s – reach new heights of popularity. New shows were being developed that involved increasingly elaborate sets and lavish gameplay concepts. It was this new philosophy that prompted the idea for a frenetic and boisterous reincarnation of a previously staid and refined series
    Veteran game show producer Mark Goodson sought to bring a revival of his bidding game show, The Price is Right, to network television. The enactment of the Prime Time Access Rule provided a golden opportunity, as it created the new "access hour" of 7:00 to 8:00 PM Eastern in which to air a nighttime version of the show, which would be syndicated, airing once weekly. [1] However, an accompanying daytime version would require the resources of one of the three networks. CBS, which had been reorganizing their daytime schedule on a fairly consistent basis ever since Fred Silverman had taken over as VP Programming, was naturally the first network to come calling.

    The content of the original game show was based almost entirely on auction-style bidding for various household goods; the revival would be re-oriented to focus on fun and exciting pricing games, all of which demanded audience participation, and many of which would require considerable physical exertion on the part of the contestant – or the host. It was for this reason that the original version's moderator, prolific game show host Bill Cullen, was ultimately not chosen to resurrect The Price is Right, for he had been crippled by polio and would not be able to meet such strenuous demands. Goodson chose another experienced moderator, Dennis James, for the role, and had him set to host the nighttime version. CBS brass, on the other hand, preferred "Truth or Consequences" host Bob Barker for the daytime version, and were insistent on his casting; however, in the end, Goodson won out, and James would host both versions. [2]

    One of the already established game shows popular in the era was "The Hollywood Squares", a tic-tac-toe trivia game in which celebrities would provide answers to questions, and contestants would then have to decide whether or not to agree with them. Most of the celebrity guests were chosen for their wit (or at least their ability to seem witty, as their responses were rehearsed), but none were more notorious than the Center Square, Paul Lynde. Known for his catty spontaneity, Lynde would rarely let an opportunity pass without unleashing his arsenal of double entendres; many of these referenced his homosexuality, an open secret in Hollywood. To the extent that a person's fame could be judged by how often he was parodied, Lynde was one of the most famous people in America. [3] Like The Price is Right, "Hollywood Squares" aired as the daytime version (on NBC), and as a weekly syndicated version; both were hosted by Peter Marshall.

    One of the few shows to continue to fully embrace the old Quiz Show tradition was Jeopardy!, which aired at 12:00 Noon on NBC. Devised, created, and produced by Merv Griffin, the show took the established question-and-answer paradigm, and turned it on its head: answers would be given, and the contestant would then have to match them with the appropriate questions. The program, hosted by Art Fleming, was the rare daytime show to be popular with college students and professionals, partly due to its plum noon timeslot, allowing it to be watched after morning courses or during a lunch break. Money would accumulate with correct answers, and be lost for incorrect answers, for the first two rounds of play (the second of which was naturally called Double Jeopardy, wherein clues were worth twice the amount from the first round); this was followed by a final round, in which contestants would wager their winnings on one last clue.

    Merv Griffin was something of a Renaissance Man within the entertainment industry. Having started out as a big band singer, he became an actor in movie musicals for Warner Bros. in the 1950s, before finally turning to television in 1958. It was his stint hosting game shows that eventually resulted in his ultimate destiny: producing game shows, with his major success being Jeopardy! in 1964; and, more personally, hosting his own talk show. A warm and genial presence, he followed in the footsteps of other musical performers such as Mike Douglas and Dinah Shore in transitioning to interviewing. Griffin was one of three people to occupy a late night berth (90 minutes, from 11:30 PM to 1:00 AM) on weekday nights: he on CBS, the more cerebral and highbrow Dick Cavett on ABC, and, of course, Johnny Carson on NBC.

    When primetime ended at 11:00 PM, so too did the network feed; the airwaves were returned to affiliates for the local nightly news, which lasted for half an hour. Then late night programming would commence, and carry on until the end of the broadcast day. The Tonight Show had aired on NBC since 1954, originally hosted by Steve Allen. Jack Paar had taken over in 1957, and after five tumultuous years at the helm, he finally departed for good, replaced by Johnny Carson in 1962. It was during Carson's tenure that the show fully matured into its iconic form: half-talk show, half-variety show. Carson would open the show with a lengthy, rapid-fire monologue. Interviews with guests, usually celebrities working in the entertainment industry, would predominate the body of the show. Sometimes these guests would perform (usually if they were musicians or comedians), and comedic sketches would often serve as interstitial material in between interviews.

    Nobody could beat Johnny Carson, though no small number of people had tried: Griffin and Cavett were only the most recent of these. Cavett had replaced Rat Packer Joey Bishop, an old friend of Carson's, who had guest-hosted the Tonight Show more times than any other. Carson, who was thoroughly professional, and never one to let his work interfere with his personal life, was on very good terms with both of his rivals. [4] The crime rate in New York City, which was rampant, and continued to rise without any signs of slowing, was dissuading potential guests from visiting The Tonight Show, based at Rockefeller Center. The program, which had occasionally broadcast from "Beautiful Downtown" Burbank, California, in the past, finally made the official move for good in 1972.

    1:00 AM, following the conclusion of late night programming, marked the end of the broadcast day, at which time most stations would sign off with any special announcements, a religious sermonette, station identification, and finally the national anthem, before going off the air, to sign on again later in the morning. [5] The precise timing of the sign-on would vary depending on the affiliate and the market served; core urban markets and rural ones tended to come back on the earliest, given the hours kept by their respective viewers, and usually had local news programming starting at approximately 5:00, following the sign-on process (which was essentially the sign-off, done in reverse). The hours in between, naturally, marked the least-watched period of the day: those who were at home were usually asleep; those who were awake were usually out working the "graveyard shift". Every station was on the air again by 7:00.

    Just as the Tonight Show dominated late-night, the Today Show, also on NBC, ever since 1952, dominated weekday mornings, with little substantial competition from the other two networks. In the early 1970s, Today was primarily known for Baba Wawa, a panelist who had long sought greater recognition. Her desperation to be judged as a serious news anchor was matched only by her utter fixation on both the trivial and the frivolous. She was also adamant that co-anchor Frank McGee was thwarting her at every turn, which was technically true; [6] it never occurred to her, however, that there were entirely valid reasons that people were unable to take her seriously. People tended to tread lightly around Wawa, mindful of her sterling reputation; though certainly, if there were anyone ripe for parody, it was her. Perhaps someday, someone might have the opportunity… As to the content of the show itself, it was, like the Tonight Show, a blend of styles. It was partly hard national news, delivered by established anchors at the network's news division; but this shared space with light-hearted, coffee table-style conversations about the minutiae of daily life. It ran for two hours each weekday morning: 7:00 to 9:00.

    Last, but certainly not least, were soap operas, which typically aired from 12:30 to 3:00 PM on weekday afternoons, after the local News at Noon; a few soaps aired in late morning timeslots, however. Soap operas were a legacy dating back to the Golden Age of Radio: melodramatic presentations generally dramatizing the lives of wealthy families, consisting of professionals and socialites, and their tawdry escapades. They appealed to an overwhelmingly female audience, and advertisers responded accordingly, with most shows sponsored by household products, especially all kinds of soap. This, coupled with their melodramatic themes, resulted in the familiar term of "soap opera".

    Seventeen were on the air during the 1972-73 season; two of these were cancelled, and a third saw its debut. Some soap operas had been on television for many years: Search for Tomorrow, the longest-running television soap, had premiered in September, 1951, with Love of Life first airing just a few weeks later. The Guiding Light, though it had started running on television in June, 1952, had been a radio serial for 15 years beforehand, making it the longest-running dramatic series of any kind. [7] In terms of plot, soaps would often dramatize controversial events of the day, though always in a highly sensationalistic and scandalous fashion. But in terms of presentation, they were hopelessly behind the times. They had been the last to switch to colour; many still continued to film live-on-the-air, a technique that had largely been abandoned elsewhere after the 1950s; and the use of maudlin organ-based soundtracks – though these were gradually being phased out by this time – would not be out of place in programming from the 1930s.

    Many programs aired during the day or late at night naturally appealed to adults, given that children were expected to be at school, or asleep, depending on the timeslot. Primetime shows, though certainly more accessible to children, rarely went out of their way to accommodate them. On weekday afternoons, when kids were coming home from school, they were usually able to find programming that they found appealing; as stations presumably believed that breadwinners were still at work, and homemakers were now obliged to start preparing dinner or perform other household chores. The 1972-73 season marked the debut of the Afterschool Special, an educational anthology series. [8] Befitting the atmosphere of the era, the initial batch of specials covered the topic of environmentalism. But even during this time of day, children's shows had to share space with talk shows, game shows, and syndicated reruns.

    The one time of the week that was indisputably their province was Saturday Morning, which since the 1960s had been largely occupied by cartoon shows; indeed, in the minds of most children, the two were inextricably linked. Limited animation techniques – pioneered by Hanna-Barbera Productions, perfected by Filmation Associates, and practiced by virtually all of the other studios – enabled companies to produce cartoons inexpensively, often at just a few frames per second. This was certainly a steep decline from the lavish feature animation of Disney and Warner Bros., which was also seen on Saturday mornings, but children were deemed unable to notice the difference – or, indeed, even able to appreciate the need for quality control.
    [9] This, combined with their shorter attention spans, resulted in cheaply-made, poorly-written shows with very brief runs, churned out in assembly line fashion by most of the animation studios of the era. Curiously popular were adaptations, or continuations, of primetime series, past and present. [10]

    The highest aspiration of those in television industry, something to measure against their lust for fame and fortune, was the desire to always have something worth watching on the air. And though their resources were disproportionately concentrated on those precious few primetime hours, many of them tried their best to liven up the rest of their programming schedules, and the resulting track record was replete with just as many highs and lows as there were between 8:00 and 11:00 PM


    ---

    [1] The "Access Hour", of course, is home to reruns of Star Trek, which utterly dominated the timeslot in 1971-72. Given the arrangement with Desilu, the show is usually seen on NBC affiliates; therefore, the nighttime Price is Right is most often seen on CBS affiliates.

    [2] CBS is in a worse position relative to OTL, and thus producers are more confident in not backing down from their demands (and executives are, perhaps, a little less sure of themselves, not that they would never actually admit that). This means, of course, that Barker will not be hosting The Price is Right ITTL. James hosting the syndicated version is per OTL; Barker took over from him in 1977 (which he will also not be doing here) before that version was cancelled entirely in 1980.

    [3] Animators and voice actors, in particular, seem very fond of Lynde; many cartoons made even to the present day IOTL will usually feature at least one character whose voice and mannerisms strongly resemble his own. (Lynde himself had a fruitful voice acting career.)

    [4] Carson was known for inviting all of those who challenged his late-night supremacy onto the Tonight Show and wishing them luck; later, after their shows inevitably failed, he would then invite them back to commiserate. He was a firm believer in fair play.

    [5] The sermonette – usually a benign, fairly uncontroversial message – would be pre-recorded, and delivered by a religious authority figure (invariably Christian, reflecting the demographic realities of the era). The national anthem would usually come at the very end, immediately followed by the test card. The same process holds true for Canadian stations, which usually played two anthems, in alternating order: "God Save the Queen" and "O Canada" (not the official national anthem until 1980, IOTL).

    [6] Among other things, McGee insisted that he, and not Wawa, ask the first three questions of any guest if they were conducting a joint interview; presumably he wanted to minimize the risk of Wawa asking what kind of tree the guest would be.

    [7] A record that it would continue to extend IOTL until its cancellation in 2009, when it ended after 72 years and more than 18,000 episodes on the air. (It was renamed simply Guiding Light in 1975, just over halfway through its run.)

    [8] As it did IOTL. The specials aired irregularly on ABC, usually several times a season. One effect of Moonshot Lunacy that's otherwise little-mentioned ITTL is that environmentalism is even stronger here than it is IOTL in this era; hence the coverage.

    [9] This era, sadly, is primarily responsible for the Animation Age Ghetto; children are indeed more willing to tolerate lower quality, though obviously they don't deserve it any more than people who know better. However, people were rallying against this stigma even this early on: 1972, remember, marks the release of the first X-rated animated film, Fritz the Cat.

    [10] IOTL, Star Trek returned to television in animated form on Saturday morning, starting in 1973, for a 22-episode, two-season run, under the auspices of Filmation. D.C. Fontana served as showrunner for the first season, which produced many scripts that were instead used (in modified form) for the series proper ITTL. There is no interest or desire on the part of anyone involved in the show's production to produce an animated spinoff, nor do the fans particularly hunger for any sort of continuation.

    ---

    And now you have a more comprehensive picture of all that was available to American (and Canadian) television audiences in the early 1970s! This was definitely more of an informational update, because I felt the need to compensate for my narrow, laser-like focus on primetime, to the exclusion of the rest of the schedule. There have been very few changes from OTL, the two major exceptions being the absence of the animated Star Trek series, and the casting of someone other than Bob Barker as host of The (New) Price is Right.

    I thought that this would be the perfect time to take stock of the daytime and late night shows on the air because of the introduction of several landmark programs in this era, many of which have had incredible staying power. The daytime version of The Price is Right, IOTL, remains on the air, 40 years later. Also, the 1972-73 season marks the premiere of The Young and the Restless, one of only four surviving soap operas IOTL. Only two other soaps from this era (Days of our Lives and General Hospital) survive.

    A few production notes to prevent confusion: the original "Hollywood Squares" ended in 1980; there were several revivals, the most recent of which aired from 1998 to 2004. The version of Jeopardy! with which we are all familiar started airing in syndication in 1984, with Alex Trebek as the host and Johnny Gilbert as the announcer from the outset; the original Jeopardy! was cancelled by NBC in 1975, and was replaced by another Merv Griffin production called Wheel of Fortune, which may be familiar to some of you.

    Also, we finally see the return of Baba Wawa! Whether we like it or not, we'll be following her escapades throughout this timeline
     
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    That Old-Time Rock & Roll
  • That Old-Time Rock & Roll

    Where were you in ’62?

    – Tagline for American Graffiti, released in 1973

    Moonshot Lunacy, like so many fads before and after, could only burn with the white-hot intensity of a supergiant for so long before people tired of it, lost interest, and moved on, leaving behind an empty shell of past glories. But like many all-consuming pop culture obsessions, it would not disappear entirely, despite the most fervent wishes of its detractors. Many complementary movements, such as environmentalism, would endure beyond the end of Moonshot Lunacy; it would also spark increased interest in many fields related to space travel and exploration, and many prominent figures who had sought careers in those disciplines as a direct result of Moonshot Lunacy would soon emerge.

    The seeds for that which would replace Moonshot Lunacy in the popular imagination were sown quite some time before its eventual mainstream breakthrough. Rock-and-roll revival music had already started in the late 1960s; however, much it had remained on the back burner at the time, behind psychedelic, progressive, and funk, among other genres. The Elvis Comeback Special had aired in 1967, and the King had enjoyed fairly consistent success in the years since, evolving from a young heartthrob into a veritable icon. Another representative of the early years of rock-and-roll, Bo Diddley, also launched a successful comeback, in 1969. It was worth noting that many modern rock bands, regardless of style, had idolized these figures; and indeed, this mutual admiration was often the only thing that many of them had in common.

    However, Greased Lightning was usually reckoned as the opening salvo of the barrage that marked the full-fledged revival of interest in 1950s rock-and-roll culture. The musical was first staged in Chicago, before it was discovered by Broadway producers and moved to the Great White Way in 1971. The story, which was set in the late 1950s (barely more than a decade before), told the tale of a graduating class comprised mostly of greasers. The play was named for the "hot rod" belonging to the main male character. [1] A fairly straightforward high-school romance and coming-of-age story, with the twist of also being a period piece, the musical shattered expectations, becoming one of the biggest sleeper hits in Broadway history. Critics were somewhat more lukewarm on the play's creative merits than audiences were, but few could deny being swept up by the exuberance of the piece; its success culminated in a surprise win for Best Musical at the Tony Awards of 1972. [2] As was the case with so many smash Broadway musicals of the past, plans for a film adaptation were green-lit almost immediately, though it would take some time to materialize.

    Meanwhile, George Lucas was facing a setback. His pet project, his labour of love, his baby, THX-1138, had bombed, which had proven a major roadblock for his career. It very much seemed that he would follow his fellow New Wave director Robert Altman [3] into career oblivion; but in an uncharacteristic gesture of conciliation and compromise, he agreed to "play ball" and obey the rules of his bete noire, the studio system. He would make a feel-good, sure-fire crowd-pleaser, to prove that he could make movies the way they wanted him to make them. He decided to spin a yarn loosely based on his own youth in Modesto, California, barely more than a decade before. Like Grease, his film captured a group of people in transition from one life stage to another, and was awash in retro Americana. In acknowledgement of this fact, he called the film American Graffiti. Cast in the two lead positions were Ron Howard, still desperate to break his type-casting as a child actor, and a fresh-faced unknown named Billy Crystal. [4] This classic coming-of-age story did indeed tug on the heart-strings, winning massive critical and popular acclaim, becoming one of the top-grossing films of 1973, and netting several Academy Award nominations. [5] Lucas contracted Desilu Post-Production to handle the editing for the film; this would be the first major motion picture cut by the studio. Not coincidentally, Marcia Lucas, George's wife, was employed by Desilu, and functioned as an associate editor on the film (for which she, too, received an Oscar nomination).

    It was as a direct result of the success of American Graffiti that the 1950s-set sitcom pilot, produced by Desilu and starring Howard, was picked up by ABC. The popularity of rock-and-roll revival music inspired Garry Marshall to borrow "Rock Around the Clock"
    the seminal hit by Bill Haley and his Comets, already immortalized by its appearance in the credits to Blackboard Jungle as the theme song, and he even re-named the resulting series (tentatively titled "Happy Days") after it. Most of the cast from the pilot returned for the series; alongside Howard as teenage protagonist Richie Cunningham, Harold Gould and Marion Ross would reprise their roles as his parents. [6] Both of Richie's siblings older brother Chuck and younger sister Joanie were re-cast, though the role of his best friend, Potsie, was not. Among the new characters added in the first season proper was an enigmatic greaser whom creator Garry Marshall had based loosely (and even named after) himself: Arthur "Mash" Maschiarelli (Marshall's real surname, and childhood nickname). In developing the character, Marshall had been inspired by former Monkee Micky Dolenz, who had memorably portrayed a biker in an episode of "Adam-12". [7] Though Dolenz was much taller than other members of the cast, it was decided that this would add to the mystique of the character, and quite literally help him to stand out.

    But 1950s nostalgia was hardly limited to rock-and-roll. Another symbol of the 1950s, self-proclaimed "song-and-dance-man" Frank Sinatra, had come out of a two-year "retirement" in 1973, and like Elvis before him, had done so with aplomb. And Sinatra was only among the living 1950s performers to re-capture the popular imagination. Also in 1973, musician Elton John released his tribute to legendary sex symbol, Marilyn Monroe, called "Candle In The Wind"; it would crack the Top 10 in the UK, and reached #1 in the US. [8] Given the considerable economic and sociopolitical turmoil that so defined the mid-1970s, this broad-based nostalgic longing for a booming era of prosperity was perfectly understandable, even though
    as is so often the case the nostalgia filter blinded many people to the harsher realities of the supposedly "idyllic" post-war era; indeed, many people vocally opposed the fad. Surprisingly often, these opponents were former Moonie Loonies, though this was certainly not always the case. Racial minorities, particularly African-Americans, had little reason to glorify the "everyday" culture of the era; though more than a few of them perhaps leaned a little too far in the other direction, as the 1950s did see many key breakthroughs in the Civil Rights Movement. The demands of political correctness mandated an uneasy "compromise"; many dramatists developed conventions to address racial issues in works set during this era. The protagonist(s) almost always had racially progressive attitudes, or at the very least, came to see the light by the end; antagonistic characters were invariably bigoted and beyond redemption. This "black-and-white" (in more ways than one) characterization was actually a regression from the more sophisticated interpretations of shows like Those Were the Days (which naturally made great hay of the 1950s nostalgic revival).

    Perhaps the magic touch that turned 1950s retro nostalgia from a passing fad into a popular culture obsession was the climate in which it emerged. Would the Edwardian Era have seemed so glorious without the devastation of the First World War and the Spanish Flu? Would the Roaring Twenties have sparkled so brightly, were it not for the long and lean years of the Dirty Thirties? And would the booming, prosperous Fifties have been so appealing, warts and all, without the socioeconomic turmoil of the decades that followed? In the minds of many commentators during the era, the Moonshot Lunacy recovery had been illusory. Because things were about to get much worse
    [FONT=&quot]…[/FONT]

    ---

    [1] Greased Lightning was a working title for the musical that, IOTL, became known as Grease. Technically, the play opened off-Broadway, but employed standard Broadway contracts, thus making it eligible for the Tony Awards; here, the economy is doing well enough that the backers are able to secure a venue physically located within the Broadway theatre district. As to the plot, the central romance is slightly less prominent ITTL, with a greater focus on retro set dressing (hence the original name being kept).

    [2] A Joseph Papp-produced musical adaptation of Two Gentlemen of Verona won for Best Musical that year IOTL.

    [3] M*A*S*H, of course, bombed ITTL; that, coupled with the successful smear campaign by its stars, Elliott Gould and Donald Sutherland, has resulted in Altman being essentially unable to find work in Hollywood again. Though he was initially chosen to direct McCabe & Mrs. Miller ITTL, he was let go during pre-production. The resulting film received mixed reviews and middling box office grosses, and is generally considered thoroughly mediocre (even in retrospect, though it has its defenders).

    [4] Hat-tip to phx1138 for the suggestion. Crystal wins the part that IOTL went to Richard Dreyfuss, who cannot accept it ITTL due to his starring role on Those Were the Days. The two actors are of similar ages, backgrounds (Jewish New Yorkers), and both have very naturalistic, intuitive, and disarming acting styles.

    [5] American Graffiti was the #3 movie of 1973, IOTL and ITTL. It received five Oscar nominations IOTL; here, it receives seven (the same five, plus Art Direction-Set Direction, and Costume Design, in both cases beating out The Way We Were for the nomination). Part of the reason for its increased Oscar recognition is because the editing is done at a bargain rate (IOTL, renowned - and expensive - editor Verna Fields supervised, with Marcia Lucas assisting).

    [6] Gould and Ross both appeared in "Love and the Happy Days" alongside Howard, but IOTL, the role of Howard Cunningham (here, Harold Cunningham) was re-cast with Tom Bosley, due to Gould being unavailable to reprise the role (he was touring in Europe at the time). Fortunately, Gould landed on his feet, being cast as Rhoda's father, Martin, on "Mary Tyler Moore" (and later, the spin-off "Rhoda"); this will obviously not be possible ITTL.

    [7] IOTL, the decision was made that Dolenz (the first choice for the role, given his appearance on "Adam-12") might just be too tall for the part, and shorter alternates were sought. One of these alternates was, of course, Henry Winkler, who was then given the role. ITTL, Winkler instead decides to concentrate on the theatre.

    [8] "Bennie and the Jets" was chosen as the US single instead of "Candle in the Wind" IOTL, and it duly reached #1 (this was during the period when Elton John could have released virtually anything and it would have topped the American charts). "Candle" was released as a single in the UK IOTL, and peaked at #11. It does a little better here, for various reasons (transatlantic synergy on the one hand, slightly contagious 1950s nostalgia on the other).

    ---

    And now we finally bid farewell to Moonshot Lunacy. That little narrative device has sustained me for several months and 700 posts :)eek:), but now it's time to move on. As you know, the 1970s were plagued with retro rock-and-roll nostalgia IOTL as well, before everyone decided to don their bell-bottoms and platform shoes and head on over to the discotheque. But we'll be hearing a good deal more about afros and dashikis in due time; first, we have to bask in our leather jackets, hula hoops, and tailfins.

    You may have noticed that I did not reveal whether or not American Graffiti actually won any of the awards for which it was nominated. That was a deliberate stylistic choice on my part. You might say that I was "inspired" by a certain other timeline that I've been reading. You know who you are :cool: I'll be posting a movies update in the next cycle, and that is when we'll hear all about who has been winning what. Until then, thank you all for reading, as always.

    Coming up the next time, join me, as we journey Into The Final Frontier!
     
    Into the Final Frontier
  • Into the Final Frontier

    Join me, and we’ll discover the answers to all these questions, and many more, as we journey into the final frontier.

    James Doohan, in his customary summation of the opening narration to The Final Frontier

    James Doohan had come to terms fairly quickly with the reality that his profound typecasting as Chief Engineer Montgomery “Scotty” Scott on Star Trek had effectively ended his acting career. However, he had become very popular with fans on the convention circuit, and seemed set to make his living off the income generated from his personal appearances. But Doohan had one special advantage relative to his equally typecast co-stars; one that he shared only with his greatest rival, William Shatner. This advantage was his heritage: Doohan was Canadian, and had fought for the British Empire in World War II, serving as an artillery officer and pilot.

    In the wake of Moonshot Lunacy, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, the nation’s public broadcaster, decided to commission a series that would educate people about aeronautical engineering and the means of space travel. The iconography of the space program – rockets, probes, satellites, shuttles, and space stations – would be the primary focus for this show, which naturally led producers to suggest Doohan – being a Canadian, and someone immediately identified with engineering in the popular imagination, a combination that made him the ideal presenter. Shortly after production had ended on Star Trek in mid-1971, the CBC contacted Doohan to negotiate terms.

    Doohan – who, like many of the cast of Star Trek, was a avowed advocate of the space program – had a particular interest in flight engineering, having been a pilot himself. He accepted the offer, even agreeing to work at union scale wages. Given Doohan’s involvement, the series was quickly named The Final Frontier. CBC lawyers were worried that Desilu might object to the name, but the studio accepted that the term was public domain and did not seek financial compensation. At the same time, they requested that Doohan never reference either Star Trek or his character of Scotty on the program, or speak in a Scottish accent; these were terms which both the CBC, and Doohan himself (who often claimed that Scotty was ninety-nine percent James Doohan and one percent accent”), readily accepted. [1]

    The Final Frontier
    was taped in early 1972 in Montreal, at the CBMT studios: the English-language affiliate of the CBC in that market, channel 6 on the VHF dial. [2] Given that the show was taped in Montreal, the logical source for researchers, fact-checkers and consultants was McGill University, the city’s primary institution of higher learning, and the most prestigious university in Canada. The budget allowed for two consultants, so producers selected Dr. Bob Davidoff, an aerospace engineer who had previously worked for Avro and thus had direct connections within NASA, and Dr. Ian Mitchell, a nuclear physicist who had previously worked for the British Ministry of Defence. The two worked with Doohan, and the show’s producers, to find the perfect balance of factual accuracy and depth of information with comprehensibility and approachability.

    The first season consisted of 13 hour-long episodes


    1. From the Earth to the Moon


    The original pilot, filmed in late 1971, was named after the famous novel by Jules Verne. It functioned as an overview of the entire space race, culminating in the focus on lunar missions. Given the broad scope of the topic at hand, the show had to cover a lot of ground, forcing Doohan to bring a “newsreader” affect to his narration. It didn’t help that his script was cobbled together from material in the CBC News archives. Nobody involved was particularly happy with the resulting product, which was about as exciting, interesting, and informative as an hour-long newscast. One producer wryly remarked that “we might as well have Lloyd Robertson hosting”. (Robertson anchored the network’s flagship newscast, The National.) [3] The pilot was picked up, though network executives had some reservations; resulting changes produced the regular format.

    Doohan would open each episode with a brief summary of the topic at hand, often raising various topics of discussion in the form of questions. The topic would then be subdivided into easily-digestible
    “chunks”, separated by the advertising breaks; this allowed each “chunk” to conclude with a teaser, leading into commercial, in the standard dramatic format. The episode as a whole would conclude with another summary, in the standard essay format, due to a desire on the part of the producers to keep each episode self-contained. The CBC fully intended to rerun these shows many times in order to recoup as much of their investment as possible; another plan was to air one specific episode as the aspect of space travel that it described was happening in real life (with each new Apollo mission, for example, “The Apollo Program” would be placed on heavy rotation).

    Doohan would appear on-screen, though he would very often speak over still images of whatever he may have been discussing at the moment. Photographs were used most often, though sometimes concept drawings or artistic impressions were used instead. Occasionally, to provide a visual aid to a more complicated point being made, especially if that point involved mathematics or “hard science”, Doohan would demonstrate using a chart or diagram, often devised by one (or both) of the show’s consultants. The rule of thumb was that the camera was not to hold on any individual image (other than that of Doohan himself, providing the opening or closing narration) for more than thirty seconds. Everyone involved knew that the primary challenge was keeping the show visually interesting. Audio that supplemented Doohan’s narration was primarily archival feeds from past NASA missions. Many famous exchanges from the Apollo missions, for example, were played heavily. Unable to afford composing an original theme, producers followed the example set by Fantasia and 2001: A Space Odyssey, reusing existing pieces of classical music to set the right tone for each episode. The series thus had no proper theme song. Sometimes snippets would be played during the course of an episode proper, other times not. But without question, the primary asset of the show from an audio-visual perspective was Doohan himself, a gifted storyteller. He worked very closely with the producers and the consultants to tailor each script to his personal style.

    The program, which aired nationwide on the CBC through the summer of 1972, could also be received by viewers in the United States, located close to the border, and broadcast transmissions from the various CBC stations. These included such markets as Buffalo, Cleveland, Detroit, and Seattle, among many others. Trekkies and Moonie Loonies alike made The Final Frontier appointment television, eager to watch Scotty talk about the space program, despite his very low-tech, low-budget vehicle for doing so. These American audiences would allow the series to have a cumulative effect far greater than its humble origins or modest production values would seem to indicate

    2. The Apollo Program


    Apollo 11
    , the first manned lunar mission, was without question a spectacular success, fulfilling the promise made by the late President John F. Kennedy to send a man to the Moon and bring him safely back again before the end of the 1960s. The President by the time of the landing, Hubert H. Humphrey, made great political hay of the achievement, speaking at length about Kennedy’s legacy. These events would mark an auspicious beginning to the pop cultural phenomenon that became known as Moonshot Lunacy.

    There were ten manned Apollo landing missions, taking place over the course of five years, from 1969 to 1974. These missions were grouped into three categories: Apollo 11, a “G-class” mission whose sole objective was to follow Kennedy’s directive; the early, “H-class” missions, comprising Apollo 12 through 15; and the later, more ambitious “J-class” missions, comprising Apollo 16 through 20. [4] The latter class of mission entailed a greater duration, more elaborate equipment, and more audacious landing sites, including Tsiolkovskiy Crater on the Far Side of the Moon, and Tycho and Copernicus Craters on the Near Side, not to mention Shackleton Crater (at the South Pole, naturally).

    As the cornerstone of the space program, and the locus of Moonshot Lunacy, the Apollo missions were wildly popular in the United States. Relatively obscure astronauts became household names, and some of these would parlay that celebrity into entirely different career endeavours. The first man on the Moon, Neil Armstrong, found his status as a living legend rather daunting, and did as best as he possibly could to shun the limelight. The second man on the Moon, Buzz Aldrin, relished his popularity a great deal more than Armstrong did, and his natural charisma and rapport with the public cemented him as a liaison between NASA and the American people.

    The more pressing economic and sociopolitical realities of the mid-1970s began to weigh more heavily on the American psyche by the time of the launch of Apollo 19 in November, 1973; and neither that mission, nor the number of other projects launching or culminating at around the same time, could re-ignite the spark of Moonshot Lunacy. The thrill was gone; the ever-fickle popular imagination had been captured by entirely different diversions. Apollo 20, the following mission, launched in the spring of 1974, would prove the final manned lunar mission for the foreseeable future, even though one of its key mission objectives was to anticipate the possibility of a semi-permanent manned lunar facility. The mission ended the program on a high note, however, when water ice was discovered in the lunar crater where the module had landed – Shackleton Crater had been chosen for that very reason, which would cement its viability as the ideal location for a lunar base, given that water ice was a natural source for rocket fuel. Samples were brought back to Earth, and though no evidence of life was found, it made for excellent collateral on the promise of an eventual return. [5]

    “The Apollo Program” focused strongly on the ten manned landing missions, dwelling most heavily on Apollo 11 and Apollo 16, the latter of which had not yet launched when the episode was taped (but had completed its mission by the time it aired). The calculated risk to assume that 16 would be successful, and complete all of its objectives, was one that paid off; Doohan was well-served to discuss the mission as if it had already taken place. As Apollo 16 was the first “J-class” mission, Doohan went into some detail about the more elaborate set of objectives, when contrasted with the earlier, more straightforward missions. He also discussed some of the new equipment that would be used for these missions, with a particular focus on the Lunar Roving Vehicle (LRV), in the first of his many allusions to Star Trek. (A lunar rover had also memorably featured in the popular episode “The Sleepers of Selene”, in one of the most famous examples of Star Trek “inventing the future”).

    3. Artificial Satellites


    As the Space Age had begun in 1957 with the launch of an artificial satellite (the Soviet Sputnik 1), it seemed fitting to produce an episode discussing them. One of the more theoretical episodes, “Artificial Satellites” spent a great deal of time discussing potential applications for satellites and, in an interesting twist, their potential destinations. After all, satellites did not have to orbit the Earth, and there were already extant examples of those that did not. The five Pioneer weather satellites had all launched in 1969, almost completely overshadowed by Moonshot Lunacy. [6] They orbited the sun, rather than the Earth, but were able to provide reports on phenomena not directly observable from the Terran position. Most satellites remained in a terrestrial orbit, however. Telecommunications was the major industry that would see benefits from satellite networks, which in turn would have dramatic carry-over effects on virtually all other industries.

    In presenting this episode, Doohan also contextualized the history and development of artificial satellites, evoking the omnipresent and potent paranoia of the 1950s. More than even the Soviets developing the A-bomb, Sputnik was a palpable reminder of the technology and of the military-industrial complex at the disposal of the Communist bloc, and it spurred the First World to counter with their own drive for education and innovation, which in turn resulted in NASA and the modern-day space program. Many of those involved with The Final Frontier found
    Doohan’s speech to perfectly encapsulate the themes of the show, and how it intended to coax viewers – particularly young, impressionable ones – into following their own drive for achievement.

    4. Orbital Flight


    One of the major projects authorized by the Humphrey-backed NASA budget of 1969 was the concept of a reusable transport vehicle, which had gained great currency in the face of the burgeoning environmental movement. The craft would be called the Space Shuttle, and it would be intended primarily as a passenger and light cargo transport. The design of the shuttle would allow it to rendezvous and dock with orbital space stations, and then leave orbit and return to the surface, only for it to repeat the process all over again – a true, two-way vessel. [7] The budget called for the construction of three shuttles, along with one prototype model. The prototype was originally to be named Endurance, which was also the name of an early twentieth-century vessel of exploration which had taken Ernest Shackleton and his expedition to Antarctica, in search of the South Pole. [8] This name, despite this rich historical connotation, was deemed unsatisfactory by a particular segment of the population…

    Perhaps it was partly the fault of Doohan, who in narrating this episode made yet another none-too-subtle allusion to his prior television series. All but winking to the camera, he addressed plans by NASA to name each shuttle – “a pioneering, multi-purpose reusable vessel of science and discovery” – after famous exploring ships of prior eras. “There have been many great explorer ships,” Doohan remarked, “and I’m sure many of you at home can think of some of your favourites.” And many of those at home did. Only one name came readily to mind: Enterprise. The campaign to rename the first space shuttle Enterprise naturally began with the Trekkies, but as a symbol of how mainstream and deeply ingrained Star Trek had become in popular culture, it rapidly spread far beyond crowded convention centres and fanzines into living rooms and break rooms.

    NASA was remarkably impassive; they would not change the name of their space shuttle to honour a fictional spacecraft. (It did not help their cause, however, that one of the other shuttles was to be named Discovery – the same name as the ship featured in 2001: A Space Odyssey). As is so often the case, it took friends in high places – or at least, those with connections. Former Star Trek cast member, and delegate to the Democratic National Convention, George Takei, spoke at length with President Hubert H. Humphrey shortly after the convention took place in Miami in July of 1972; though neither man would divulge the precise contents of their conversation, Humphrey would announce shortly thereafter that Enterprise would prevail as the name of the first Space Shuttle. [9] This event may have been one of the high-water marks of the renewed Moonshot Lunacy, and it amply demonstrated the synergy between Trekkies and Moonie Loonies, as if the large overlap between the two groups had not already been made painfully clear.

    Takei, who had since been elected to the Los Angeles City Council, and Doohan were both among those members of the cast and crew of Star Trek to attend the rollout and dedication ceremony in early 1974; their invitation was a conciliatory gesture by NASA, whose salad days had now passed, and who knew that pragmatically embracing the Trekkies, who generally remained supporters of the space program, would be highly prudent. Only Nichelle Nichols worked for NASA in any official capacity, but virtually all of the principal cast and crew attended, save for Gene L. Coon (who had unfortunately passed away several months earlier) and, curiously, series star William Shatner.
    [10] Assuming that all went well with the Enterprise shakedown tests, the next shuttle, Columbia, was scheduled to be ready for orbital flight as soon as late 1975. Initial plans were also for the Enterprise to be refit for orbital flight capability, as the shuttle had been constructed without engines or a functional heat shield.

    5. Space Stations


    Both the United States and the Soviet Union had outlined plans for orbital research stations. The American project, Skylab, was intended to launch in 1975, and would be serviced by the space shuttles, with a mutually compatible, or “androgynous”, rendezvous and docking apparatus built-in to the designs of both shuttle and station. Skylab was designed as an orbital research station, which would be self-sustaining, with the help of solar panels to provide energy. Though its operational lifespan was relatively short (it was expected to last for only a couple of years), it would be able to test for a number of key factors, including living and working in space, that would be invaluable for another, later, more permanent space station. Space stations were one of the primary focuses of the Soviet space program, as well. The Salyut program was yet another vestige of the still-ongoing space race, which would reassert itself in other areas of space travel…

    The episode devoted to the subject on The Final Frontier devoted more time than usual to the potential future development of space stations. Doohan danced around the possibility of their resembling any seen on Star Trek, instead noting somewhat more plausible methods of simulating Earth gravity and atmospheric conditions, not to mention necessarily shielding from the elements – radiation, solar wind, among the many other variables, most of them very dangerous indeed. Again reflecting the attitudes of the era, this also resulted in a segment devoted to the Earth’s atmosphere: how it naturally protected all life on the planet from the dangers of outer space; how many resources it would take to replicate those protective effects using modern technology; how inconvenient this technology made performing even the simplest tasks; and how much it cost to add these capabilities to spacecraft, in order to protect astronauts from coming to harm.

    6. Interplanetary Probes


    There was perhaps something fundamental about the desire to explore strange new worlds. For the most popular components of the space program were the moon landings, followed closely by space probes. It was not terribly surprising, therefore, that two episodes of the initial season of The Final Frontier were devoted to space probes. Probes were handled by the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL). The Mariner 6 and 7 probes were launched in 1969, in advance of the Apollo 11 mission, and were sent to flyby Mars in order to photograph them. These marked the culmination of a series of attempts, by both the Americans and the Soviets throughout the 1960s, to more closely investigate the Red Planet. They would be followed by later Mariner missions (8 and 9) that would actually orbit the planet. Among the discoveries by Mariner 7 in August of 1969 (in the afterglow of Apollo 11) were a volcanic, mountainous region, later dubbed Tharsis; and a massive rift located along the planet’s equator. The rift would eventually take the name of Mariner 7 and become known as the Vallis Marineris. [11]

    Mariner 10
    , on the other hand, was bound inward, toward Venus, one of several launches that took place in late 1973, and to surprisingly little fanfare among the populace. Another key project taking place during this timeframe was the arrival of the later Pioneer probes, 11 and 12, which had been bound for Jupiter, the first man-made objects to travel into the outer solar system. It was also in late 1973 that Pioneer 11 reached Jupiter, after having traveled through the asteroid belt, and it became the first craft to take close-up pictures of the largest planet in the solar system. Once it had finished its mission, it continued onward, traveling at an escape velocity, allowing it to eventually leave the solar system entirely. Pioneer 12 was planned for approximately the same trajectory. Though the estimated lifespan of both craft was low enough that they would likely see no practical use once they were out of sight from Jupiter, NASA-JPL scientists remained in constant contact with Pioneer 11, just in case.

    7. Probe Landings & Remote Recon


    Plans for the later Mariner missions to orbit Mars happened to coincide with Soviet plans to do much the same thing; even though the Russians had ceded the Moon to those capitalist pigs”, they were not about to slack off in other areas of their space program. And with their Martian probes, unimaginatively named, simply, the Mars series, they were able to score a rare vindication. For the year was 1971, and in May, two probes bound for Mars were launched by each side. The Soviets were first out of the gate, on the ninth of the month, with Mars 2. The American Mariner 8 followed ten days later. The second American probe, Mariner 9, was launched on May 28, but it was destroyed in a tragic accident when its engines failed. It would be the first of several setbacks for NASA with regards to their Martian program, with this crucial phase (the Mariner Mars ’71 Project) being only a partial success. The final probe, the Soviet Mars 3, launched on May 30. Both Soviet Mars probes were equipped with landers and remote sensory equipment, which would set an important record that could not be challenged by the Americans, assuming that either probe could successfully execute its mission.

    The “Race to Mars” became one of the biggest stories of the summer of 1971, as the probes headed off toward the Red Planet. Obviously, trajectories and attainable velocities could be determined well ahead of time, which made the “race” a foregone conclusion well before either party reached the finish line; nonetheless, the end result – Mars 2 arrived less than a week ahead of Mariner 8, and became the first man-made probe to orbit another planet that October – still captured the attention of the masses. Not to mention, it warmed the hearts of the faithful Soviet workers. Even the failure of the second phase of the Mars 2 mission (a rougher-than-expected landing had damaged the land equipment beyond practical use) could not dampen their spirits, as the Mars 3 mission (bearing the lessons of Mars 2 in mind) was a complete success. [12] It served as the first of a number of key public relations coups, in a variety of different disciplines, for the Soviet Union in the early 1970s.

    “Probe Landings and Remote Reconnaissance” was one the few episodes to cover material that had taken place almost entirely in advance of production. The “Race to Mars” was the primary focus of the episode; however, it also detailed future plans by NASA-JPL to explore the Martian surface through their Viking program, one of the more elaborate probe programs that were planned for the later 1970s, and discussed the instrumentation that would need to be implemented in order to do so.

    8. Astronauts


    Doohan, who had become acquainted with several bona fide astronauts, along with test pilots and aviators, through his personal appearances during the run of Star Trek, had suggested an episode about the men who had actually ventured out into the final frontier. One of these men, after all, had recently become the Junior Senator from Ohio; and others, no doubt, would find themselves seeking their destiny in politics, as well as many other fields far beyond the military or aviation. What did it take to become an astronaut? What made these people different from the common man? Obviously, these philosophical questions could not be answered directly, so the focus of the episode was on the selection process, and the exhaustive training regimen. It emphasized the need for an astronaut to be fully prepared for his mission. The physical pressures imposed by flight in extreme conditions, or weightlessness, coupled with the profound stress of constantly having to make life-or-death decisions – not only as an individual but often on behalf of a crew of astronauts – was described frankly by Doohan, though not without great esteem. He summarized the role as greatly challenging, but equally rewarding.

    NASA recruited eight additional astronauts in 1973 – their first batch since 1969. [13] Due to their abundance of pilots, it was decided that they only needed two more, compared to six mission specialists (all advanced doctoral-level scientists). The 1973 cohort – properly known as Astronaut Group 8 – included the first African-American astronaut (Ben Madison), the first Asian-American astronaut (Ken Kobayashi), and, most importantly, the first female astronaut (Patty Jackson). Nichelle Nichols had been peripherally involved with the candidate selection process for this cohort; she would become more intimately involved in the selection of the 1975 cohort, Astronaut Group 9.

    9. Rocketry


    The Saturn V rocket was the most powerful of the several models used by NASA to propel their payload into space, though only the Saturn could provide the thrust necessary to deliver a craft to the Moon. An order for a second batch of Saturn Vs was cancelled in 1968, given the exorbitant costs of the ongoing overseas quagmire – which had been escalated that year – but the purchase was reinstated by President Hubert Humphrey in the NASA budget of 1969. [14] It marked the single largest expenditure in that budget – and the only immediate one, as most of the other funds were allocated to research and development. Rockets beyond the Saturns were used to launch most other spacecraft, however; indeed, Saturn V rockets and Apollo missions were inextricably linked in the public imagination. The Saturns were the “big guns”; those less powerful rocket models were typically used for launching craft that were able to thrust and maneuver on their own power. The primary research objective for the future, within the field of rocketry, was to develop a potential replacement for the venerable Saturn V – more fuel-efficient, more cost-effective, and, if at all possible, less expensive.

    10. Propulsion in Space/Interstellar Travel


    Given the popularity of Star Trek, and the ubiquity of the subject in science-fiction, an episode on interstellar travel was considered largely inevitable. Obviously, the technology for faster-than-light propulsion was barely even theoretical in the early 1970s, with even the likeliest proposal being so far beyond modern science that even speculation on its viability would be a total shot in the dark. Nevertheless, Dr. Mitchell, one of the program’s consultants, championed the production of this episode; he himself was very interested in potential long-range space exploration. NASA-JPL, for their part, did feel obliged to research potential deep space propulsion methods. The well-known “Project Orion”, which would involve a series of nuclear explosions, had been mooted for obvious reasons some time before; but more conventional nuclear-powered craft, more in the vein of carriers or submarines, remained an attractive proposition. Although casual travel to and from another star system remained out of the question, journeying beyond the outer reaches of the solar system, and back again, within a human lifetime certainly seemed feasible.

    Without question, this aspect of the space program had the lowest investment-to-public-interest ratio. However much man may have wanted to reach for the stars, NASA-JPL had far more immediate concerns on their plate. Fortunately, these immediate goals were also far more likely to provide concrete, attainable results. The “Interstellar Travel” episode of The Final Frontier, therefore, was tinged with the bittersweet, without question the most wistful of the early batch of episodes. Doohan did his best to put on a brave face as he explained that faster-than-light drive systems were, for all intents and purposes, impossible (though he cushioned this cold, hard fact as indulgently as he possibly could). However, he famously claimed that “It is entirely possible that, within our lifetime, a new method of propulsion could be developed that could bring man to a nearby star system within his own lifetime.” Doohan would celebrate his fifty-second birthday while taping the first season of The Final Frontier, and the subtext in his declaration – that he wished to see such a craft launched before the end of his life – was obvious.

    11. Mission Control


    The only “earthbound” episode of The Final Frontier would explore the day-to-day routine of the men and women who co-ordinated all of the many missions flown by NASA and JPL. They were known by many names, and could be found in several locations, but were described within the episode as “mission control”. The mission control episode emphasized the need for everyone – on the ground and in space – to be prepared for every possible eventuality. It also discussed the extensive pre-mission planning that the ground crew would have to undertake; it made an excellent complement to the “Astronauts” episode, which discussed the rigorous physical training regimen. Mission control, of course, had plenty of training and rehearsal involved in their planning activities as well. Doohan’s narration depicted mission control as the “nerve centre”, a bustling nexus of activity and kinetic energy, where the stakes were critical and every decision had profound consequences; he compared it to the floor of a stock exchange, or the emergency room of a hospital. Given the collaborative nature of the position, as well as the eliminated risk of personal imperilment, he was willing and able to speak about it in far more glowing terms, relative to his more guarded assessment of working as an astronaut. This show, sometimes facetiously described as “the recruitment episode”, paid dividends on that front – it made mission control look like the place to be. It was truly Doohan’s finest performance as narrator throughout the first season.

    12. Alternative Energy


    Given the burgeoning environmental movement, producers decided to devote an episode to space-based sources of energy, as potential alternatives to the heavily polluting fossil fuels. Space-based solar power was suggested by Dr. Davidoff, the other consultant for the program, as an intriguing and remarkably feasible technology; and the resulting episode effectively functioned as a propaganda piece for what would become known as “microwave” power, so named due to potential solar energy being converted into microwave radiation, which would then be received by mobile collector dishes on Earth. If it could be said that the “Alternative Energy” episode of The Final Frontier, the penultimate episode of the first season of shows to be taped and aired, had planted the proverbial seed for the alternative energy movement, the germination would definitely be a major global event that shook the socioeconomic balance of the world in late 1973.

    Once again, the Arab-Israeli conflict had re-ignited, when the Arab League invaded Israel on Yom Kippur, one of the holiest days in the Jewish calendar, hoping to take the Israelis by surprise. This was ultimately unsuccessful, though it would not result in the total victory for the Jewish state that the Six-Day War in 1967 had been. The United States were obliged to support their ally, which resulted in the defeated Arab states imposing a retaliatory embargo. Thus began the Oil Crisis. Crude futures went up – and up and up. The stock markets, tenuous at the best of times, went down – and down and down. The good times were definitely over; by the close of 1973, it had become very clear that there were going to be major changes. These impacted the space program just as powerfully as they did everything else.

    Research and development for what immediately became known in the popular consciousness as “microwave” power – insistently, though futilely, described by enthusiasts as “SPS” – was entirely within the purview of NASA, and indeed, in the midst of several crucial cuts to the space program in the 1974 budget, new funds were earmarked for the creation of a prototype space-based solar power collector and microwave converter. However much impact this episode of The Final Frontier had on this decision is difficult to gauge with any accuracy, given the estimated cumulative effect; without doubt, it certainly helped to get the ball rolling, at least.

    13. The Future of the Space Program


    An entire episode was devoted to future plans by NASA and JPL for the space program, once existing projects were completed. Other topics briefly touched on in earlier shows were covered in more depth, helping the episode to serve as a “summary” for the season. Skylab, the Viking program, and the Space Shuttles were all revisited. Plans for a new series of moon landings after the completion of the Apollo program, culminating in a semi-permanent lunar presence, were glowingly discussed; probes that would explore all of the outer planets of the solar system, to be launched in the late 1970s, were also mentioned. NASA-JPL had abandoned the Mariner program, dovetailing 11 and 12 into the first two probes of the Voyager program. Initial plans were for six probes in total. [15] Even ideas that were little more than theoretical notions – a post-Skylab space station, “interstellar” (actually extra-solar) probes – were mentioned. The obvious intention, which was entirely successful, was to generate further excitement about the space program. Even Doohan could barely contain his enthusiasm. 1972 was a very heady year for the final frontier, literally and figuratively.

    Thus ended the final episode of the
    show’s initial season, which completed its original run in August of 1972.

    The Future of The Final Frontier


    The CBC was rather ambivalent about picking the show up for a second season. However much Doohan and the producers had been able to wring out of the extremely limited format, they would need more to work with if they wanted to delve into greater, more technical detail. And the network did not have the money to increase the show’s budget – they barely had enough to continue working at their existing cost levels. It was the success of the show in the United States that confirmed the future of The Final Frontier. PBS, which had already acquired a reputation for importing quality shows from the United Kingdom, was very much interested in an educational series about the space program, and they approached the CBC about co-funding the program. The CBC leapt at the opportunity, and it resulted in The Final Frontier being renewed for another season, with an increased budget, to air in 1973. It would mark the beginning of a very successful collaboration between the two networks

    ---

    [1] Doohans “accent” quote is per OTL. One interesting side-effect of his role in The Final Frontier ITTL is that his lack of an accent (which, yes, sounds ridiculously phony to any native-born Scot; not that they dont love him anyway, of course) will become widely known very early on, relative to OTL.

    [2] The CBC, naturally, owns and operates a French-language broadcasting service (la société de Radio-Canada
    , or simply Radio-Canada for short), and Montreal (a thoroughly bilingual city ever since the late 18th century) is served by the CBC in both languages. Their French-language affiliate, CBFT (channel 2 on the VHF dial) is the oldest permanent television station in Canada, established in 1952. It was a bilingual station until 1954, when the encroaching broadcast signals from American stations (in Plattsburgh, New York and Burlington, Vermont) necessitated the creation of the English-language CBMT.

    [3] Lloyd Robertson, the legendary Canadian news anchor who is the country’s primary answer to Walter Cronkite, served at The National from 1970-75 IOTL. He then “jumped ship” to CTV, the largest private network in Canada, with the promise of greater editorial control. He anchored the newscast there for thirty-five years before retiring in 2011.


    [4] IOTL, the “H-class” missions were Apollo 12, 13 (aborted), and 14. The “J-class” missions were Apollo 15, 16, and 17. As there were only 17 missions compared to the 20 of TTL, they also came to an end earlier, in late 1972. Notoriously, mankind has never since returned to the Moon IOTL.

    [5] Recent science has indicated the strong likelihood of water ice deposits on the Moon; this evidence was not known in the 1970s, however the possibility of water ice in that location was known, and discovery and extraction would have been a key mission objective. However, and for the official record, I am technically taking a leap of faith in presupposing that water ice would be found on the Moon, though it is fairly likely (and may be proven conclusively in the not-too-distant future).

    [6] Only four of the five Pioneer probes/weather satellites successfully launched IOTL; the fifth (Pioneer E) was lost in a launch accident. ITTL, it survives, becoming known as Pioneer 10. Therefore, the probes known IOTL as Pioneer 10 and 11 become 11 and 12.

    [7] The Space Shuttle will take a very different form ITTL, because NASA won
    t need to seek outside funding (from the Department of Defense, IOTL) or build to any specifications but their own. Therefore, the resulting craft will meet their own needs far more effectively. Given the order for additional Saturns, reusable launchers are far less important than reusable spacecraft. The shuttle can be expected to approximate these external and internal measurements, though I must stress that they are being provided as a visual aid, and will not match the TTL Shuttle precisely.

    [8] The working name for the first Shuttle of OTL, Constitution, was chosen because it was planned to roll out on Constitution Day – it also shared a name with one of the six original U.S. Navy frigates. As the shuttles will be ready on a completely different timeframe, Endurance is chosen instead, and is deemed equally lacking.

    [9] IOTL, the name Constitution was “officially” changed to Enterprise was because President Gerald Ford, who had served in the Navy in WWII, worked aboard a ship that had serviced the legendary USS Enterprise (CV-6), and was partial to the name for that reason. Another, lesser, factor ITTL is Nichelle Nichols, who also encouraged changing the name to Enterprise from within the NASA hierarchy. That, plus the letters, may well have been enough even without Takei, though he certainly helped.

    [10] Those attending the dedication ceremony ITTL were: Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelley, James Doohan, George Takei, Nichelle Nichols, Walter Koenig, Majel Barrett-Roddenberry, John Winston, Gene Roddenberry, D.C. Fontana, Robert H. Justman, Herbert F. Solow, John Meredyth Lucas, and David Gerrold.

    [11] Vallis Marineris is instead named for Mariner 9, which discovered it IOTL – the probe never successfully leaves the Terran atmosphere ITTL.

    [12] Mariner 9 reached Martian orbit about a month ahead of Mars 2 IOTL. Because NASA has received much greater funding ITTL, so too has the Soviet space program – which, having given up the ghost on their moonshot, is thus budgeting additional resources (relatively speaking) to other projects. This results in a rare latter-day victory for the Soviets in the Space Race, which can be added to other victories that I've mentioned in prior updates.

    [13] IOTL, NASA would not recruit Astronaut Group 8 until 1978
    – resulting in a much larger cohort of thirty-five (which allowed them to justify the common military nickname, TFNG – facetiously said to stand for “Thirty-Five New Guys”). It, too, included the first female, African-American, and Asian-American astronauts.

    [14] The move by Humphrey to restore funding to the Saturns is considered a key symbolic gesture of his administration’s objectives: to reduce spending on death and destruction, and instead focus on progress and new discoveries, in reverence to the can-do American spirit.

    [15] And four IOTL. Even after budget cuts, there’s still more money to go around in NASA-JPL ITTL, relative to their financial position IOTL. Hence, the plans for six Voyagers (though that number is far from final). We can only hope that the last of these doesn’t get too far off-course…

    ---

    Thus concludes our exploration of the salad days of the space program! Thank you all for reading my longest update, by a considerable margin, and for your patience and understanding in awaiting its completion. This won
    t be the last we hear of either NASA or The Final Frontier, though, I can promise you that much.

    I would like to acknowledge the invaluable assistance from e of pi and truth is life, who served as my consultants in devising and writing this update. Special thanks must also go out to e of pi for directly assisting in the editing of this post. If this subject matter appeals to you, I must recommend in the strongest possible terms that you visit their timeline, Eyes Turned Skywards, which has the space program as its primary focus. The timeline was nominated for Best New Cold War Timeline at the 2011 Turtledoves, which was in the same category as That Wacky Redhead, and I
    m honoured to have been considered within that calibre. Though theyre on hiatus right now, they will be back at work within the next few months, so theres plenty of time to catch up. Further information, and a directory of updates, can be found on their wiki page. None of this update would have been possible without the very fruitful collaboration that has emerged between us. I was able to take two fun little ideas (Scotty hosting an educational space show, NASA receiving additional funding due to resources being freed up elsewhere) and try to weave a cohesive and intriguing story out of them, with their help.

    In any event, this marks the end of the 1972-73 cycle! :D
     
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    1973-74: Brave New World
  • Brave New World (1973-74)

    Who loves ya, baby?

    NYPD Lt. Theodore "Teddy" Kojack (Telly Savalas), Kojack

    Desilu, at the beginning of the 1973-74 season, had four series on the air: Mannix, Night Gallery, The Way of the Warrior, and Re-Genesis. A fifth series, Rock Around the Clock, would premiere in mid-season, as a reaction to the smash success of American Graffiti. However, Re-Genesis was failing to attract audiences, who found the fish-out-of-water aspects of the series unappealing, and the setting in general lacking in the sense of wonderment and adventure that had so defined Star Trek. It didn
    t help matters that showrunner Gene Roddenberry had largely left the show to its own devices while working on another pitch he had previously been promised, which eventually evolved into a pilot movie called The Questor Tapes. The premise featured an advanced android, the last of a long line built by an ancient alien race, whose mission was to protect mankind, though without their knowledge; while, at the same time, desiring to learn more about humanity. It was the final culmination of a story idea that Roddenberry had been developing for several years. [1] Gene L. Coon had co-written the Questor pilot, which would air on January 23, 1974, on NBC; he had also written the series bible. Though he was dying of terminal lung cancer at the time the pilot movie was shot, it was decided that he would be credited as the co-creator of the show. Roddenberry was displeased that 50% of the creator royalties would thus be siphoned off to the Coon estate, but many of those at Desilu found it entirely appropriate. [2]

    One last idea had caught the attention of Desilu: Jim Henson, creator of the Muppets, and a consulting puppeteer on Star Trek (whose moving performance of the sehlat character, I-Chaya, had imbued the classic episode “Yesteryear” with such pathos and vulnerability), having exhausted all of his other options, finally approached “The House That Paladin Built”. He had good reason to be hesitant, for he had devised a variety series that would star his Muppet creations, and Desilu had never before produced a such a program. Indeed, Lucille Ball was a firm believer in comedy as a deliberate and thoroughly rehearsed process; it remained one of the few major disappointments of her producing career when her friend Carol Burnett had declined to star in a sitcom vehicle for Desilu, instead opting to star in her own variety series, which had been running since 1967.

    Herb F. Solow had explained all of this when Henson had tentatively approached him in 1972, in the midst of the studio’s plans for expansion, with the idea. Given the wealth of other potential projects, his proposal was politely declined, and he was forced to go elsewhere. Meanwhile, Desilu continued to boom, thanks in large part to the continuous cash receipts from Star Trek, complemented nicely by the new wave of syndication revenues from the recently-cancelled (and
    “stripped”) Mission: Impossible. This opened the door for yet more pilots the following year. One slot had been promised to Roddenberry, as part of the Re-Genesis deal, and another space was suddenly filled when Rock Around the Clock got the green-light, but there would still be room for one more. Solow, who liked Henson and believed that his idea had a great deal of potential, agreed to develop a pilot. Lucille Ball, for her part, was highly reluctant to approve The Muppet Show, but was finally convinced when Henson explained that the “variety show”, far from being spontaneous and live-on-the-air, would be meticulously written and rehearsed, filmed in the traditional three-camera format, and would even interlink the variety material with sitcom-style, behind-the-scenes segments. This convinced Ball to go ahead with the pilot movie, which would air on January 30, 1974, on ABC; [3] a full season order was beyond even Ball’s considerable powers, as that was the way so many television series were sold in the 1970s.

    It was to her pleasant surprise, then, that both pilot movies were very well-received, by critics and audiences alike, and were picked up for full-season orders. By the end of the season, Desilu would have six series in production: Mannix, Night Gallery, The Way of the Warrior, Rock Around the Clock, The Questor Tapes, and The Muppet Show – the most since the studio’s heyday in the early 1960s. (Re-Genesis had been cancelled due to low ratings, continuing a worrying trend of all non-anthology, non-import science-fiction series since Star Trek failing to last for more than one season). Assuming that they were able to maintain their present level of success, this diversity of programming, along with the resources at the studio’s disposal (in particular their spacious backlot), and the wide array of alternative income sources (such as merchandising and post-production services), Desilu was poised to emerge as one of the most powerful studios in Hollywood, even in the face of the strongest recession in decades. Paramount, on the other hand, was increasingly forced to contract as Desilu expanded, given their shared studio space, under the terms of the original 1967 contract between the two companies. It was not the first time that Gulf+Western chief executive Charles Bluhdorn bitterly regretted that he had been unable to convince Ball to sell her studio.

    Paramount also was facing a major public-relations problem. The birth rate, previously in a steep decline, had recovered somewhat from its late-1960s doldrums; though certainly not restored to Baby Boom levels, the appreciable increase of the early 1970s would later be described by demographers and sociologists as the “mini-boom” or the “boomlet”. But Paramount was a studio that seemed resolutely committed to portraying the lives of singletons, or childless couples. [4] None of the many single characters on Mary Tyler Moore were in so much as long-term relationships, and indeed one of the show’s few married regulars, Lou Grant, had separated from his wife. The prohibition imposed on Bob Newhart by the eponymous star against children held firm, even though, in that case, the writers were more than willing to populate the show with progeny. But Barefoot in the Park remained the most visible example of what social critics described as the “anti-family” policies at Paramount. Finally caving to public pressure – or, more likely, network pressure, as Barefoot was the studio’s lowest-rated sitcom – the lead couple became pregnant in the 1972-73 season, delivering their baby, a son named Grant, after Paramount Television head Grant Tinker, in the season finale (“Grant was always the biggest baby”, his wife Mary Tyler Moore joked on the choice of name). The subsequent season then made raising a child the central focus of the series. Ratings did not appreciably improve, however, and it would be the last in the five-season run of Barefoot. Room 222, the other inaugural Paramount Television series, would also last five seasons, leaving the studio with only four shows in production at the end of the 1973-74 season: Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, The Odd Couple, and the newly-developed Mary Tyler Moore spinoff Rhoda, which (to stave off further complaints) featured its lead character entering into a steady relationship with a divorced father in the pilot, with plans for them to marry before the end of the first season.

    Desilu and Paramount were far from the only studios in Hollywood, of course. Norman Lear’s studio, Tandem, naturally addressed social concerns the most directly, and bluntly. Those Were The Days, which had always sought to reflect the lives of those people it claimed to represent, also featured a pregnancy storyline. Gloria was discovered to be pregnant in late 1973, during her husband’s final year of graduate school. The child was delivered on March 16, 1974, the exact same day as her husband’s graduation ceremony, to the expected hijinks. Adding the baby character – also a son, named Michael, after the original “Richard” analogue from Til Death Us Do Part – was described by some commentators as “penance” for the hugely controversial and infamous abortion storyline in Maude. [5] Norman Lear vehemently denied these insinuations, but there was an ulterior motive to the addition of baby Michael. Once the Oil Crisis had hit, the original raison d’être of Those Were the Days – to promote the positive change brought about by modern society – found itself quickly becoming obsolete. Times were tough, and Carroll O’Connor knew that, in order to keep Those Were the Days fresh and relevant, it would have to pull back on the preaching and emphasize stronger characterization. At least in the short-term, it worked, as Those Were the Days repeated for the third consecutive season as the top-rated show on television. Sanford and Son also maintained its position at #2; Maude, on the other hand, fell out of the Top Ten. [6]

    Universal Television, one of the more successful small-screen subsidiaries of a movie studio, launched an intriguing new action-adventure program named Kojack, which starred veteran Greek-American character actor Telly Savalas, best known for his completely bald head. Once again, the series started life as a pilot movie, adapted from the notorious real-life
    “Career Girls” murders of 1963. The resulting series would frequently dramatize institutionalized discrimination, and the delicate balancing act between the rights of the suspect and the duties of the police to effectively investigate crimes. Despite these stirring ethical questions, the show functioned largely as a star vehicle for the suave and charismatic Savalas. The actor had once portrayed James Bonds arch-nemesis, Ernst Stavro Blofeld; but his character here certainly had the same effortless appeal of 007, with his famous catchphrase: Who loves ya, baby? The program became an instant hit, and the top-rated new show of the season, finishing at #5 overall. [7]

    As always, the studios and their measures of success differed quite sharply from those of the networks. NBC was doing moderately well, though still down somewhat from their highs in the late 1960s and early 1970s; and increasingly reliant on their reputation as the network of
    Negroes, Blacks, and Coloreds, which fueled great ambivalence among executives. Sanford remained their biggest hit, with Flip Wilson also finishing in the Top 10 (the Peacock network having four representatives total within those ranks). The Bill Cosby Show also remained in the Top 30, one of nine such shows on the network. CBS had the other six Top 10 shows, including the #1 show on the air, and four of the Top Five. Altogether, the network had eleven shows in the Top 30. [8] The remaining ten shows in the Top 30 naturally aired on ABC, though for the second season in a row, they were once again shut out of the Top 10 (their top-rated show – also Desilus top-rated show – was the mid-season replacement, Rock Around the Clock, at #12; they also aired the studios only other Top 30 hit, The Way of the Warrior, at #27). [9] But desperate times often called for desperate measures; and willingness to take risks had always distinguished the Alphabet Network, with The Muppet Show being only the most recent example.

    At that season’s Emmy Awards, Mary Tyler Moore edged out Those Were the Days to win Outstanding Comedy Series. It would be the second series win for the show. The eponymous lead actress also won for Outstanding Lead Actress, though all other acting awards within the Comedy category went to the cast of Those Were the Days: Carroll O’Connor for Lead Actor, Richard Dreyfuss for Supporting Actor, and Penny Marshall for Supporting Actress. [10] On the Drama side of the ledger, Kojack, the breakout hit of the season, and Telly Savalas, its star, won the Emmys for Series and Lead Actor respectively. [11] The Carol Burnett Show repeated for Outstanding Variety Series.

    ---

    [1] IOTL, an earlier iteration of what eventually became Questor was known as
    “Assignment: Earth”, which Roddenberry independently attempted to sell, but had no luck. He would then rework the pilot script into a backdoor pilot, which marked the finale of the second season of Star Trek. None of this happens ITTL, because Star Trek did well enough that Roddenberry didnt see the need to sell “Assignment: Earth” (as Star Trek was considered a sure bet for cancellation before all those fan letters started coming in).

    [2] Why? Because Roddenberry had quite deviously arranged to write lyrics to the Theme from Star Trek, whose melody was written by Alexander Courage, over vehement objection from the latter (after all, said lyrics – leaving aside any objections as to their quality – were never used, to the point that Courage alone is usually credited for the composition of the song). Coon, though co-writing the pilot IOTL, was credited only for the teleplay; his several additional months of life permit him a more active role in the show
    s development ITTL, to the point that a case for his co-creator status can be made (and is made, by his friends Solow and Justman, Desilus attorneys, and the WGA).

    [3] The first of two pilot specials for what would eventually become The Muppet Show aired on this date IOTL. It was called
    “The Muppets Valentine Show”, and featured Mia Farrow. Note that ABC is in far more dire straits ITTL, and is thus willing to take a chance on a full-season commitment (with prodding from the higher-ups at Desilu, that is).

    [4] This is a trend that carries over from MTM shows IOTL, and here is amplified by applying it to at least one native Paramount production (Barefoot). The “childfree” policy on MTM was presumably due to the like-minded decision by Grant Tinker and Mary Tyler Moore to have no children of their own (both had children from previous marriages). They could have decided differently ITTL, given the atmosphere of the early 1970s, but assuming that they hold to their OTL decision allows for a more intriguing juxtaposition.

    [5] Yes, the abortion storyline happened more-or-less on schedule IOTL. And as to specifics with regards to landmark rulings related to that subject ITTL… I’ll let you know about those right after I fill you in on the membership of the Humphrey Cabinet. (And if you still feel the need to discuss the subject, may I kindly direct you to the Chat forum?)

    [6] IOTL, Sanford was at #3, behind The Waltons (ITTL, Spencer’s Mountain, which here finishes at #3), and Maude was #6 (one of the shows it finished behind was M*A*S*H, at #4). Maude fares more poorly here because it is a show about wealthy suburbanites, compared to the other two Tandem shows, which have working-class protagonists.

    [7] Kojack finished at #7 IOTL, still enough to be the highest-rated new show of the season (the one remaining Top Five show ITTL is Hawaii Five-O at #4).

    [8] In the 1973-74 season IOTL, CBS had a whopping seventeen shows in the Top 30, and nine in the Top 10 alone, including the top-rated All in the Family (and now you see why Fred Silverman was so revered); ABC followed with nine in the Top 30, though they were (once again) shut out of the Top 10 (the mid-season replacement The Six Million Dollar Man was their highest-rated show at #11); and NBC carried a mere four shows in the Top 30, though they did manage one show in the Top 10, preventing CBS from pulling off a clean sweep: Sanford and Son at #3 (and now you see why NBC was in such dire straits in the 1970s). Among the shows on the air IOTL that were not ITTL: Here
    s Lucy (never aired), Gunsmoke (cancelled in 1971), and M*A*S*H (never aired). Note that all three of these shows were in the Top 30 and aired on CBS.

    [9] Happy Days finished at #16 in its inaugural season IOTL; Kung Fu, as ITTL, was at #27. Night Gallery was cancelled in 1973 (after a prolonged power struggle between Serling and producers, which does not happen here), Genesis II never aired as a regular series, and Mannix failed to reach the Top 30 (as ITTL).

    [10] IOTL, M*A*S*H won for Outstanding Comedy Series and for Lead Actor (Alan Alda). Rob Reiner did win Supporting Actor, whereas Cloris Leachman won for Supporting Actress. The pregnancy storyline gives both O’Connor and Marshall far more Emmy bait relative to OTL storylines, which allows them both (and Marshall in particular) to edge out the competition – Jack Klugman and Leachman, respectively (Leachman quite transparently won because of the episode in which she discovers that her husband is cheating on her with Sue Ann Nivens – I couldn’t avoid giving her the Oscar, but at least I’ve taken one of her many undeserved Emmys away).

    [11] Savalas also won IOTL, but the Series Emmy went to Upstairs, Downstairs.

    ---

    Despite considerable changes in the outside world, day-to-day life in Hollywood remains much the same; the people of the industry are rather cloistered on those pedestals of theirs. That said, production companies are as accountable to the fickle whims of the public as any other business, even if they are not so willing to record their assets, liabilities, revenues, or expenses in anything remotely resembling an honest or transparent manner. If this update was intended to get any particular theme across, that would be the one. Of course, economic downturns usually take some time to sink in to the popular consciousness, so we will continue to see major changes in the next broadcast season.

    One of several demographic changes I
    ’ve posited for this timeline is the “mini-boom” of the early 1970s. Births usually tend to rise with the conclusion of foreign entanglements, and with a good economy, both of which are in evidence here. Also, a large cohort of people are coming of age, and more of them relative to OTL are choosing to settle down and start a family. Obviously, the mitigating factors of OTL (widespread birth control, environmentalism, womens liberation, etc.) are in evidence, and act as ballast to prevent the birthrate from returning to Baby Boom levels. My rough estimate would be an average of 20 births per 1,000 throughout the early 1970s. This is why the Koenigs (among many other OTL couples) decided lets have one more, which is a fairly common expression in the era. Several of my readers could quite possibly have a younger sibling ITTL.

    Also, a clerical note: from this point forward, the names of all television series will be listed in italics, rather than quotation marks (excluding featured shows like Star Trek). This adds consistency, and is easier to type (even IMDb, which formerly used quotation marks for television series, appears to have abandoned them). Thank you all for your patience, and for your tireless discussion even in the absence of new material. The next update, our return to a beloved British franchise, should be ready in the next few days.
     
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    Only the Moonraker Knows
  • Only The Moonraker Knows

    The World Is Not Enough.

    – Tagline for Moonraker

    Throughout its development, Moonraker had been nothing short of a gamble for EON Productions. In hopes of taking advantage of Moonshot Lunacy, they had decided to move ahead with the film in lieu of their original choice, Live and Let Die. But by the time the movie was finally released in the summer of 1974, that fad was dead and buried; replaced with nostalgia for the previous generation, which producers had consciously worked to avoid in crafting a Bond adventure for the 1970s.

    Michael Billington was twenty-nine years old when he was selected as James Bond, of comparable age to the two previous Bonds – Sean Connery and George Lazenby – when they were first chosen. [1] His selection was primarily due to his experience in the science-fiction genre, having been the star of UFO and UFO: 1999. When it became clear that a third series in the UFO franchise would be commissioned (as it was the second-most popular overseas export on British television in the era, behind only Doctor Who), producers acted immediately in offering Billington the role of Bond, which was enough to lure the actor away from the show that had made him famous. [2] Billington, in contrast to both Connery and Lazenby, was wildly enthusiastic about the part, and agreed to sign a seven-picture contract committing him to 007 for the long haul. [3]

    Most of the production team remained in place, despite the constant changing of the Bonds. Guy Hamilton, who had directed the iconic Goldfinger, along with the most recent film, Diamonds are Forever, would also helm Moonraker; script doctor Tom Mankiewicz, who had revised the Diamonds script so extensively that he received official credit for it, was given responsibility for cherry-picking ideas from the source novel (the original plot was deemed too “dated”) around which he could write the screenplay. As always, EON chiefs Albert “Cubby” Broccoli and Harry Saltzman were responsible for the production, and John Barry would compose the score. [4] The other regular actors (Bernard Lee as M, Lois Maxwell as Miss Moneypenny, and Desmond Llewelyn as Q) also returned, doing more than anyone else to retain some semblance of onscreen continuity.

    Though it was one of the last major decisions made in production, the choice of who would perform the film's theme song was one of the first that would be seen in its full glory onscreen. Traditionally, the responsibility for writing the music fell to the score composer, the infinitely capable John Barry. The style was decided upon almost immediately: progressive rock was one of the few genres popular on both sides of the Pond in the early 1970s, and producers scouted for progressive bands in England, the birthplace of the movement. As the famous story goes, an executive at EMI/Parlophone had submitted a long list of potential leads to EON, only to add one more at the last minute. “I'm not too sure about these ones, but there's a certain quality to them that just might be what you're looking for.” Naturally, this final lead would ultimately win the assignment. Their first album had already been released, and they were in the process of recording their second when they met with producers, who were suitably impressed with their distinctive talents. The foursome, who had strong heavy metal and hard rock tendencies in addition their impressive prog credentials, were known as Queen. [5]

    The resulting song, which following Bond convention shared the name of the film, was composed by Barry along with frontman Freddie Mercury and guitarist Brian May. “John Barry had written the score for the film already,” Mercury would later explain. “Brian and I took some of the cues we liked best, and built the rest of song around them... then we wrote the lyrics together, which we don't often do, but we knew we had to agree on them, because it couldn't sound like me or like Brian, it had to sound like something Shirley Bassey might sing.” [6] The melody, driven in equal parts by Mercury's piano and May's idiosyncratic “Red Special” guitar, brought a certain quality of bombast to complement the lavish scoring by Barry heard in the underscore, not to mention the rest of the film. The lyrics, highly abstract (in typical Bond fashion) and detailing the surreal yet strangely epic adventures of men in space, were indeed delivered by Mercury in a full-throated, no-holds-barred style reminiscent of Bassey. The song was the biggest hit from a Bond film since “Goldfinger”, topping the charts in the United Kingdom and throughout the Commonwealth (even in Canada).
    [7] It also reached the Top 10 in the United States, establishing Queen in the highly lucrative American market. Perhaps the greatest highlight for Mercury, however, was when Queen was invited to perform the song at the Royal Variety Performance of 1974, in a duet with Bassey herself (who would adopt a re-arranged version of the song as one of her standards in subsequent concert tours).

    The movie was filmed in relatively few locales: in England (at the venerable Pinewood Studios, where the most elaborate sets in the film franchise's history were designed by Ken Adam, in order to accommodate the
    “outer space” scenes) [8], West Germany (standing in for East Germany, base of operations for the primary villain), British Honduras, and the United States. The most notable filming location was the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida, where NASA extended remarkable privileges to the film crew, and all in service to the outlandish (even by Bond standards) plot. The ultimate objective was to get James Bond into space, so in writing the film, Mankiewicz decided to move backward from the obvious climax – the battle between Bond and supervillain Hugo Drax, in his orbital space station lair. Initial plans for a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek romp were changed during the course of production, with a decision to emphasize the majesty and wonder of space, in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Star Trek. The budget for the film continually faced overruns, with a final estimated figure of $25 million. [9] For this reason, it was derisively labelled by the distributor, United Artists, as the “Cleopatra of space movies”, an insult which hit close to home, as the screenwriter's father had directed that film.

    Most of the money went to set design, costumes, and all matter of visual effects, the last of which proved both costly and time-consuming (to the point of delaying the film for almost a year from its intended Autumn 1973 release). [10] Some of the finest minds in the field, in both England and Hollywood, were put to work on the film. EON was forced to farm some work out to other companies. Desilu Post-Production, which continued to employ many of the people who had worked miracles on Star Trek, was among them. It was perhaps the greatest achievement of the production that such wildly disparate elements, implemented in such diverse fashions, were somehow unified into a fairly cohesive whole. Derek Meddings rightfully received the lion's share of the credit. However, the effects were anchored by the sterling cinematography. The highlight of the memorable Kennedy Space Center sequence, in which Bond is launched into outer space on a Saturn V, featured one of the legendary rockets as Bond toured the Vehicle Assembly Building.

    It was first seen from the bottom-up, in a long and dramatic pan; and then, after a smash cut, from the top-down, in a shot filmed high atop the catwalks; the camera gradually pulls back, so as to frame the rocket with Bond and the (actor portraying the) NASA official, as they discuss how it will launch 007 into outer space. The magnificence of the Saturn rocket was (literally) underscored by the majestic orchestral soundtrack provided by Barry.
    The Saturn featured in the film would be used to launch Apollo 17 in December, 1972, and in a quid pro quo with the film crew, they agreed to provide their services shooting the launch with their high-quality film cameras in exchange for having been allowed to shoot their own scenes. This would result in the highest-quality footage of any take-off during the peak period of the space program; indeed, the otherwise undistinguished Apollo 17 would be better remembered for its role in the filming of Moonraker than for anything that happened during the mission proper, to the point that the mission was often called, simply, “the Moonraker” (a title briefly extended to the entire Apollo Program, though obviously in retrospect, after the film's release).

    Billington provided a heartfelt performance; gentler than Connery, but still suave and confident. His experience in a science-fiction setting paid dividends: his portrayal was highly capable, and despite his newness in the role, he provided an anchor to the ridiculousness of the rest of the film, remaining at all times the centre of attention. His determination to take the role seriously anchored the film, helping it to escape the heights of wretched excess it could have otherwise reached. Additionally, his viability as a sex symbol was uncontested. Indeed, his strongest resemblance to Connery was his equally hairy chest. But his performance was primarily one of contrast to his predecessor, who had long ago grown bored and vaguely irritated with Bond. The youth and exuberance exhibited by Billington won him some of the firmest plaudits for the entire film.

    But at the end of the day, sometimes taking a big gamble paid off, and such was certainly the case here. Moonraker topped the U.S. and global box-office for 1974, becoming an international smash hit, and the highest-grossing Bond film in nominal dollars (adjusted for inflation, Goldfinger and Thunderball still came out ahead), earning $175 million. [11] This allowed the producers to achieve a profound return on their investment, sparing them from financial misfortune in these new, tougher economic times. Critical reviews were thoroughly mixed, with criticism directed at the preposterous plot, the relatively limited set of locales, and the over-reliance on gadgets and technology to a heretofore unforeseen degree. Other elements, such as Billington's performance, the title theme, the lush score by Barry, the Kennedy Space Center sequence, and the impressive visual effects, were widely praised. The film went into the 47th Academy Awards ceremony, on April 8, 1975, with four Oscar nominations: Best Original Dramatic Score (two-time winner Barry's first nomination for a Bond film), Best Original Song, Best Sound, and Best Visual Effects. [12]

    The end credits of Moonraker dutifully announced that James Bond would return in Live and Let Die. Given mixed reception from the core fanbase at the aberrational nature of the film, in contrast to those that had preceded it, producers decided to take a back-to-basics approach to their next film; this included lowering the budget, given the harsher financial circumstances EON now faced going forward. Selected as the director of the next installment was a promising young New Hollywood type who had always wanted to helm a Bond feature, and was willing to accept the lowest reasonable offer in order to do so. His name was Steven Spielberg...

    ---

    [1] Billington was 30 during principal photography, and 32 at the time of the film's release
    – in the latter case, the same age as Connery at the release of Dr. No.

    [2] The second season, UFO: 1999, airs on CBS during the 1973-74 season, giving American audiences continued exposure to Billington right up to the release of Moonraker.

    [3] Connery's original contract was for five films, which he honoured with the release of You Only Live Twice (by which time he was so fed up with the role of Bond that he refused to renegotiate until he was offered far more money); Lazenby also signed a seven-picture deal but managed to extricate himself from the arrangement after just one film.

    [4] Barry did not compose the score for Live and Let Die IOTL because he was a tax exile from the United Kingdom at the time. For various reasons, he is able to fulfill his obligations ITTL. His score for Moonraker is very similar to that of the film of the same name IOTL (perhaps the finest score he ever wrote for 007, in this editor's opinion).

    [5] The membership of Queen, and the circumstances of its formation, are largely identical to OTL.

    [6] Mercury and Bassey, for those unfamiliar with either singer, both perform(ed) in a very bombastic, theatrical manner; though Mercury has not cited Bassey as an influence or inspiration, he no doubt would have approved of her style. Bassey, IOTL, has covered several Queen songs, which certainly speaks to her opinion of their music.

    [7] Traditionally, the Canadian charts tend to strongly resemble the American charts, though occasionally they will poach from the
    “quirky” European charts (and, of course, since the 1970s, have been increasingly dominated by homegrown talent, in following the aforementioned “CanCon” mandates).

    [8] This includes the construction of what is effectively the famous
    “007 Stage” in 1972. IOTL, it was built in service of The Spy Who Loved Me in 1976.

    [9] This is about as much as OTL Live and Let Die and The Man with the Golden Gun...
    combined.

    [10] For comparison, Live and Let Die was released in June, 1973. The Man with the Golden Gun was released in December, 1974.

    [11] About $850 million in 2008 dollars, adjusted for inflation (assuming OTL economic fluctuations).

    [12] IOTL, the category of Best Visual Effects was briefly discontinued from 1972 to 1976.

    ---

    As promised, a look at a beloved, and previously-mentioned, British property! And the beginning of a somewhat different route for 007 than that OTL, especially given his very different portrayal. Special thanks to e of pi for his advice with one specific part of this post, which was subsequently expanded after some brainstorming (and a No-Prize goes to the first of you to guess which part that might be!) For those of you who may be curious as to whether or not Moonraker actually won any of the Oscars for which it was nominated... you'll find out, in due time :D I apologize for the slight delay in the posting of this update! I hope to have the next one ready for you in a more timely fashion.
     
    Another Night at the Movies
  • Another Night at the Movies

    MGM.jpg
    The logo of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, used since 1957.

    Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, otherwise known as MGM, had been the largest and most profitable studio in Hollywood during the Golden Age. However, it had been in constant decline since the late 1950s, and its last great triumphs of that era: the musical Gigi in 1958, and the swords-and-sandals epic Ben-Hur (a remake of a famous silent film) in 1959; both films would win Best Picture at the Academy Awards, their only two such wins since the end of the Golden Age. [1] Ben-Hur had saved the studio from financial ruin, but it also put them in a precarious position: they were forever reliant on “the next big hit” to keep them going for another year or two. And needless to say, there were no guarantees.
    In 1966-67, a controlling interest in the company was sold to Edgar M. Bronfman, scion of the Canadian Jewish Bronfman family, which controlled the Montreal-based Seagram distillers. He gradually consolidated his power in MGM, ascending to the Chairmanship in 1969. Times were tough for MGM, but the studio persevered partly on their legacy, and partly because many of the other studios were also having difficulty facing changes in the industry. Paramount, for example, despite having also been bought out by an entrepreneur (industrialist Charles Bluhdorn), was having considerable trouble establishing a presence on television, after a deal with another studio had fallen through. These woes did much to make MGM (which, by contrast, was buoyed by its well-performing television division) look more attractive to shareholders. [2]

    Bronfman was mindful that the studio needed to diversify its output, but he also wanted to honour his existing obligations. Stanley Kubrick, who had directed 2001: A Space Odyssey for MGM, had approached the studio in hopes of financing his dream project: a biopic of Napoleon. His initial $5 million price tag was met with considerable distress, so he developed a plan to cut costs in almost every aspect of production that met with Bronfman’s approval. In September, 1969, he turned in a draft screenplay, and the project was officially green-lit. [3] Napoleon was filmed primarily on location, in Italy and Yugoslavia (with sojourns to France, and all on-set shooting done in Kubrick’s base of operations in England). Kubrick employed his considerable skill as a filmmaker to conceal a number of those key cost-cutting measures employed throughout the production, including the use of paper uniforms worn (while being filmed at great distances) by the French and Coalition soldiers, who were in turn portrayed by the People’s Yugoslav Army. 15,000 infantrymen and 5,000 cavalrymen were used in total, though not all at once 15,000 men total were used in the Waterloo sequence. Stylistic advances in cinematography, as well as visual effects techniques, were used to the fullest to create a palpable sense of atmosphere; particular praise was singled out for the use of natural lighting [4], made possible by newly-developed fast lenses, and for the stately, precise battle choreography, reflective of a more “civilized” age and divorced from the chaotic frenzy of modern war films. Starring as le petit corporal was the relatively unknown actor David Hemmings, whose intense and unforgettable performance was wisely presaged by Kubrick, who cast him despite his being below the lower end of his preferred age range (Hemmings was 29 during principal photography, whereas Napoleon had been 30 when was created First Consul of the French Republic in 1799). A far more impressive casting coup was Audrey Hepburn, who had been lured out of semi-retirement to star as Josephine; she received top billing, generously insisting that it also be extended to Hemmings, in an echo of the same courtesy bestowed upon her by Gregory Peck for Roman Holiday. Patrick Magee as Talleyrand, and frequent Kubrick collaborator Peter Sellers, in one of his few major dramatic roles as Fouché, rounded out the major players.

    The film, which was released in late 1971, eventually cost well over the originally budgeted $5 million, which was still only a moderate price-tag for an epic film of the era. It received ten Academy Award nominations, more than any other film at the ceremony held the following April: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay (though Kubrick had written the film’s screenplay independently, it was credited as having been “adapted” from the biography written by Felix Markham – who had also served as technical advisor – for legal reasons), Best Actor (for Hemmings), Best Actress (for Hepburn), Best Supporting Actor (for Sellers), Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, Best Costume Design, and Best Visual Effects. It also won multiple technical awards for pioneering multiple innovative filmmaking techniques. Most importantly, Napoleon was the highest-grossing film of the year, earning over $100 million stateside, and a great deal worldwide as well, particularly in Europe. It became the most successful foreign-language film in the history of both France and Italy, and (unsurprisingly) sold the most tickets per capita in Yugoslavia, where roughly half of the film was ultimately shot. (To be fair, Napoleonic France did indeed occupy part of modern-day Yugoslavia, known as the “Illyrian Provinces” of the French Empire).

    At the Academy Awards of 1971, perhaps through a combination of the increasing vindication of Kubrick’s reputation (his previous picture, 2001: A Space Odyssey, was already undergoing substantial critical re-appraisal by this time), Napoleon swept most of the major awards. It won Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor for Hemmings (who in accepting the award, became its youngest-ever recipient, at 30 years, 144 days old – beating the previous record-holder, Marlon Brando), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, and Best Costume Design. Best Actress was awarded to Jane Fonda for Klute, Best Supporting Actor went to Ben Johnson in The Last Picture Show, and Best Visual Effects went to the live-action/animated fusion film, Bedknobs and Broomsticks. [5] Kubrick was the sole recipient of three Academy Awards (Picture, Director, and Screenplay), but did not attend the ceremony due to his fear of flying. Other members of the Napoleon production team accepted on his behalf. Myriad jokes about Kubrick being “exiled to Elba” abounded. Co-host Jack Lemmon would build on the joke by remarking: “Well, we thought he was at Elba, but it turns out he escaped, only now he’s stuck at St. Helena”; another co-host, Sammy Davis, Jr., capped off the routine. “Kubrick’s next picture is going to be a sequel to The Ten Commandments, and right now he’s doing his research by trying to get through the desert to the Promised Land… on foot.” However, the award was a vindication for MGM, who had both popular and critical clout for the first time in some years (their previous big-budget film, Ryan’s Daughter, did well at the box-office but received thoroughly mixed reception). [6]

    After two historical war epics and character studies in a row won Best Picture, audiences and critics were in the mood for something lighter and frothier. Befitting the more sophisticated era, the old-style ray-of-sunshine extravaganzas would not be appropriate, but at the very least, some cautious optimism was deemed necessary. Thus, it was Cabaret, the fourth-highest grossing film of 1972, and the second-highest grossing musical behind What’s Up, Doc, that took home Best Picture that year, one of nine total won by the film [7], which also included: Best Director; Best Actress for Liza Minnelli, Judy Garlands eldest daughter, in what effectively served as her Hollywood debut; Best Supporting Actor for Joel Grey (aided by a three-way split in the vote by nominees from The Godfather); Best Score, Adaptation; Best Sound Mixing; Best Art Direction; Best Cinematography; and Best Film Editing. Its hottest competition was mob film The Godfather, which won for Adapted Screenplay, Original Score [8], and Best Actor: Marlon Brando thus became the fourth actor to win the award twice (after Spencer Tracy, Fredric March, and Gary Cooper). In his acceptance speech, he made the only overtly political statements at that year’s ceremony by addressing the plight of the American Indian; it spoke to his immense veneration by his fellows within the industry that his thoughts were allowed be aired uninterrupted and unchallenged. [9] However, as much as the Oscars celebrated cinematic high art, 1972 was the high-water mark of one of the lowest forms of the medium: Porno Chic. Two pornographic films were among the Top 10 highest-grossing films of the year, and a third, though not technically pornographic, was extremely sexually explicit (and animated to boot): a film adaptation of the Fritz the Cat comic by Robert Crumb. However, it certainly spoke to the artistic aspirations of filmmakers in the era that even these films were far more snobbish and sophisticated than the lowbrow material that had come before.

    For all of the bright and sunny atmosphere of the early 1970s, once the Oil Crisis and the recession hit in 1973, a decidedly darker, more macabre mood emerged. It didn’t help that the predominant trend of the era, retro nostalgia, was evenly split between two very well-received films: The Sting, set during the Great Depression, and American Graffiti, set during the early 1960s. Both of these were nominated for Best Picture, which allowed The Exorcist, based on a novel written by William Peter Blatty, to come through the middle, winning Best Picture, and Best Director for Peter Bogdanovich, among four other awards; most prominently Best Supporting Actress for 14-year-old Jamie Lee Curtis, daughter of Hollywood stars Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh, who had played Regan MacNeil, the young girl who was possessed by an (unseen) demon. [10] The horror film was dark and unflinching (it had become only the second X-rated film to win Best Picture [11]), though the priests were ultimately successful in their quest to drive the demon from Regan’s soul – at great personal cost. It was wildly successful with audiences, grossing over $200 million at the box-office. The Sting, the second-most successful film of 1973, won three Oscars, including Best Original Screenplay; but American Graffiti, the third-most successful, went home empty-handed, much to the disappointment of both George Lucas and his wife Marcia. The sole award for which she was nominated was Best Film Editing, which had gone to The Exorcist, a decision that displeased many at Desilu Post-Production. Donald R. Rode, who had been nominated alongside Lucas, was overheard complaining to his boss, Herb Solow, the following morning that the editing for the winning film had been merely pedestrian”. He and Marcia commiserated over their loss; meanwhile, George Lucas seemed to shrug it off, already busy planning his next project

    By 1974, the darkness had set in, which, more than anything else, explains the brilliant resurrection of a previously dormant genre: film noir, where there are no more heroes. The movie that spearheaded this renaissance was Chinatown, the brainchild of Robert Towne, a revered script doctor whose stock had significantly risen following his work on The Godfather. Peter Bogdanovich, though he was highly ambivalent about being seen as a “hired gun” of the studios, was nevertheless brought on as director after completing The Exorcist; Jack Nicholson and Jane Fonda starred as the hard-boiled protagonist and the femme fatale, respectively. [12] Bogdanovich fought hard for allowing the picture to be filmed in black-and-white, allowing him to play with light and shadow in direct homage to noir films of the past, particularly those directed by his idol, Orson Welles (who had made cameo appearances in both The Exorcist and Chinatown); visually, the film borrowed very heavily from Touch of Evil. The film won Best Picture, accepted by the notorious Robert Evans; Bogdanovich did not repeat as Best Director, with Francis Ford Coppola instead winning for The Godfather Part II. [13] The highest-grossing film of the year, Moonraker, won only one of the four Oscars for which it was nominated: Best Visual Effects, awarded to Derek Meddings. The next-highest grossing film of the year, the deconstructionist Western parody Blazing Saddles, surprisingly won for Best Supporting Actor, awarded to Harvey Korman; he, like Joel Grey two years before, won largely due to a three-way split among nominees from The Godfather (Part II). [14] Korman’s character within the film had explicitly mentioned the Oscar potential of his performance, in one of the many “meta” moments throughout the movie (and which organizers, not without a sense of irony, chose to feature in clips of his performance shown during the ceremony); fittingly, in his acceptance speech, Korman thanked the Academy for not holding my performance against me”, receiving one of the biggest laughs of the night. In contrast to 1973, Chinatown had only been the tenth-highest grossing film of the year, surprisingly low indeed for a Best Picture winner. But this was only one effect of the many changes affecting the increasingly decentralized American motion picture industry. Larger studios like MGM were finding their market shares face continuous declines; formerly niche markets were becoming increasingly legitimate. The old oligopolies that had been so dominant for so long were giving way to freer competition. The New Hollywood was no longer merely about the new, creative “freedom of the screen” now available to filmmakers; it was about the freedom of audiences to choose what movies to watch, with the studios becoming ever more powerless to stop them. Success in the entertainment industry had always been both elusive and fickle.

    ---

    [1] And, IOTL, their last two films to win Best Picture to date. Their most recent nominee in the category was Moonstruck, from 1987.

    [2] Who, when coupled with the better-performing overall economy, would not be motivated to sell a controlling interest to venture capitalist Kirk Kerkorian.

    [3] One of the first major decisions made by the Kerkorian regime was to reject going forward with the Napoleon film, forcing Kubrick to go elsewhere in search of funding; the release of several other Napoleonic films, all of which performed poorly, were enough to scuttle his plans for good. It would remain his greatest lamentation.

    [4] Kubrick had originally devised the use of natural light for Napoleon IOTL, before instead using it in Barry Lyndon.

    [5] IOTL, The French Connection won for Picture, Director (William Friedkin), Actor (Gene Hackman), Adapted Screenplay, and Film Editing. Fiddler on the Roof won for Cinematography, and Nicholas and Alexandra won for Costume Design.

    [6] Ryan
    s Daughter earns about $50 million at the US box-office ITTL, up from only $30 million IOTL. This is a promotion from “financially devastating” to merely “disappointing”. In Europe, the film verges on a bona fide hit, particularly in the British Isles, enough to confirm Lean’s clout, rather than become viewed as a rare misstep.

    [7] IOTL, Cabaret won all of those awards, except for Best Picture, which went to The Godfather. Cabaret was also the eighth-highest grossing film of 1972 IOTL.

    [8] Nino Rota was disqualified from nomination because he had reused a theme from his previous film, in one of the more notorious technicalities of qualification requirements. IOTL, the award instead went to Limelight, a twenty-year-old Charlie Chaplin film, which only became eligible due to these same requirements (it only received a wide release in the United States in 1972 IOTL), in an obvious gesture to give one of the seminal figures in the film industry a competitive Oscar (which he had never won before).

    [9] Yes, he accepted the award. Butterflies take care of the Wounded Knee incident (when in doubt, blame Tricky Dick!) and, by extension, Sacheen Littlefeather. However, Brando still affiliates with the American Indian Movement, who seek somewhat more peaceful methods of enacting social change.

    [10] IOTL, William Friedkin directed the film. Bogdanovich will overall take a more minimalist, stylistic approach to the gore aspects of the film than Friedkin did, allowing the film to be disturbing in a more intellectual than visceral fashion, thus allowing it additional highbrow credibility, and therefore, more Oscar wins. The
    “split in the vote” that did not occur IOTL (The Sting won for Picture and Director, among a handful of other awards) does occur here because of the better overall reception for American Graffiti. Starring as the possessed girl IOTL was Linda Blair, replaced by Jamie Lee Curtis, who obviously will not be remembered as the “Scream Queen” ITTL.

    [11] The Exorcist received an “R” rating IOTL (undeservedly so, in the opinions of many), contributing to the decline of the “X” rating, which became seen as the province of pornography. Recall that ITTL, the “X” rating was registered by the MPAA in 1972, which cements its legitimacy.

    [12] Nicholson recommended Roman Polanski as Director IOTL after Bogdanovich turned it down. Here, with him coming off The Exorcist, Evans has more leverage to appoint him immediately. For the same reason, Jane Fonda has a far less controversial reputation ITTL given the lack of her intimate involvement in the overseas quagmire, and seems a natural choice for the role of the alleged femme fatale.

    [13] IOTL, The Godfather Part II became the first sequel to win for Best Picture, along with Coppola winning for Best Director.

    [14] Korman, sadly, was not nominated for his role IOTL, thus depriving pop culture history of a supremely rich irony. ITTL, on the other hand, he defeats Robert De Niro.

    ---

    Today marks the six-month anniversary of this timeline! And what a whirlwind it has been. Thank you all for reading, and thanks to my many commenters for your thoughtful replies and your generous comments. And special thanks to my collaborators, who have enriched this whole experience in ways I never could have imagined when I decided to actually post this somewhat nebulous and entirely quirky idea of mine on a lark, that fair November day.

    We
    ll continue to explore the movies – and even particular genres and individual films – in future posts. But coming up next time, a merry little jaunt across the pond!


    MGM.jpg
     
    And Now For Something Completely Different
  • And Now For Something Completely Different

    BBC.png
    Coat of Arms of the British Broadcasting Corporation, in use since March, 1927.

    It’s…

    The “It’s” Man (played by Michael Palin), Monty Pythons Flying Circus

    British television and American television had much in common,
    given the shared language and cultural heritage between the two nations; but there were many finer points of distinction between their uses of the medium, as might be expected given the physical separation of the Atlantic Ocean, along with 200 years of separate jurisprudence. American television, for example, was largely produced by three privately-owned networks (four until 1956) who, though they were closely regulated by their government, were given broad latitude to determine the content and presentation of their programming. The publicly-owned network, PBS, was marginal by comparison, and its cash inflows were entirely dependent on the whims of successive governments. Under the Great Society, they had been doing very well indeed, but that might not always be so.

    By contrast, though the United Kingdom had been the first power to produce regular television broadcasts, doing so in 1936 (though they were suspended for the duration of World War II), it was in other ways rather less developed than the American industry. Britain was served by only one network (the venerable, state-owned British Broadcasting Corporation, or BBC) until 1955. At that time, after considerable deliberation, legislation was enacted that created ITV, understood to mean
    Independent Television; it was the first commercial network in the UK, organized in a similar manner as to the American networks (that is, a cooperative collective of smaller, regional affiliates). However, due to American private broadcasting of the time being seen as incredibly vulgar by standard-bearers, the government maintained significant control over its content. A third channel, BBC2, was launched in 1964, also under the auspices of the British Broadcasting Corporation; the original channel was thus redesignated as BBC1. (Plans for a second commercial network – which, in an odd coincidence, would become the fourth channel in the UK – went nowhere, just as plans for a fourth network in the US so often did). BBC1, BBC2, and ITV were found on Channels 1, 2, and 3 on the VHF band respectively, though these channels were found at different frequencies than in the US and Canada. Both BBC channels were free of advertising, and funded by a licence fee paid by all television viewers, which covered the overwhelming majority of their expenses; a common source of funding for public broadcasters in Europe, such a levy would likely be found unconstitutional in the United States. Among technological differences, British television used Phase Alternating Line (PAL) systems for colour encoding (alongside much of Western Europe, with the notable exception of France), in contrast to the system devised by the National Television System Committee (NTSC) in the Americas. [1] Though PAL was judged superior to NTSC at the time of its implementation, this did not stop Britain from being several years behind the United States in terms of adopting all-colour programming. Black-and-white shows could still be seen first-run, even into the 1970s.

    In the United States, British television was known from the late 1960s onward for its action-adventure and science-fiction programming, along with historical and period dramas, because these comprised the vast majority of its successful exports. However, within the United Kingdom itself, the most popular genre of programming was “light entertainment”: comedies, musicals, and variety shows. However, there was a commonality with American programming, and that was an increasing tendency toward sophistication. As was the case with television, British comedy and American comedy had much in common, but there were many finer points of distinction, which was naturally to be expected with a genre so subjective and context-sensitive. Granted, in the last few decades, American and British culture seemed to be coming together rather than growing apart, as part of the broader Anglosphere. All forms of media – broadcast, along with cinema and literature and the shared cultural experiences of World War II and the Cold War did much to help this along, as did the greater phenomenon of globalization, prominent during this era of détente.

    One of the hallmarks of British comedy was the dramatization of class conflict. This was far less prominent in the US, given the popular historical notion of all men being created equal, along with the perception of social status as impermanent and meritocratic. In the UK, on the other hand, social strata were far more rigid, and indeed were often seen as inherited, as if they were formal titles: working-class and middle-class (along with the ancient upper classes: the aristocracy and the landed gentry below them, who had been decimated by the World Wars and the Great Depression, among many other factors). A number of popular sitcoms of the era would focus on class conflict: Behind the Green Baize Door, for example, told the story of two housemaids working in a country house of the Victorian Era. [2] Somewhat more ambitious was Are You Being Served, which was equal parts farce and satire, set in a London department store in the present day. Key themes were the formalized, archaic relationships of the sales staff; their respective ranks within the rigid workplace hierarchy; and their interactions (as part of the middle-class) with the stores ancient and eccentric owner, along with their more affluent clientele (upper-class), and the “dead common” maintenance staff (lower-class, but better paid than the sales staff due to their trade union).

    Another hallmark of British comedy was inter-generational conflict, which was far more universal, and indeed struck a chord with American audiences; to the point that two of the most popular programs of the 1960s, Till Death Us Do Part and Steptoe and Son, were both remade into two of the most popular American series of the early 1970s: Those Were the Days [3] and Sanford and Son (both produced by Norman Lear’s company, Tandem Productions) respectively; all were known for their grittiness, their realism, and their unflinching look at modern society, to contrast with the escapism and the artificial wholesomeness of years past. And, indeed, both parent programs were brought back for new runs in the early 1970s, each after a hiatus of several years. Though the success of their offspring stateside does not appear to have been a major factor in their return, it certainly could not have hurt matters. Till Death Us Do Part, like Those Were the Days, was forced to brighten its tone somewhat given the more optimistic society of the early 1970s (though, unsurprisingly, this attitude was somewhat more muted under the grey skies of Albion). Mike and Rita had a son, also named Michael, and it is believed that this may have inspired Richard and Gloria to have a son on Those Were the Days the following year. [4] Despite a general sympathy with the viewpoints of the younger generation, at least one very popular show with older protagonists premiered in this era: The Library Mob, which starred three middle-aged Yorkshiremen, though they maintained a curiously youthful (some might say childish) attitude and perspective about the world around them. [5]

    As popular as situation comedy was in Britain, sketch comedy was perhaps even more so. The late 1960s saw one of the most influential such programs ever to have aired, the product of six comedy writers and performers: Monty Pythons Flying Circus, as the show was eventually called (with its repertory players – Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Jones, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, and Michael Palin accordingly becoming known as “the Pythons”), had a highly peculiar and idiosyncratic comedic style. Though it did have clear antecedents (The Goon Show and Q5, along with previous projects involving various Pythons), it integrated these influences in a novel, anarchic yet also bizarrely cohesive, fashion. Surrealistic and absurdist, the program was thoroughly intellectual, but at the same time, deeply silly. Highbrow satire shared space with lowbrow sexual and scatological humour. Perhaps the overriding intention of its creators was to critique traditional comedic devices; an entire sketch parodied the concept of a punchline, and indeed the very notion of “sketches”, with clear beginnings and endings, was rarely in evidence. In an attempt to lure an American audience, a compilation film of their best sketches (re-recorded on film, without an audience) was released in August, 1972. Connie Booth, John Cleese’s wife (who had made a name for herself stateside, in Doctor Who) featured in several sketches, and the film (given the title And Now For Something Completely Different, ironic as it was comprised entirely of reused material) was a minor success there, grossing $10 million and finishing at #20 at the box-office that year. Though none of the three major networks chose to carry Flying Circus, PBS did, and it became one of the most popular shows on the network. [6] The run of the original program ended in early 1973, after three seasons; Cleese wished to spend more personal time with Booth, who had ended her involvement with Doctor Who after two seasons. Among their plans were starting a family (their daughter, Cynthia, was born in 1973) and, at Cleese’s urging, working together on new story ideas. Thus, in lieu of a fourth season, the BBC agreed to support the production of a motion picture; in this endeavour, the Pythons were assisted by American investors who had become Monty Python fans. Both Cleese and Booth did agree to appear in the film. [7]

    Monty Python was certainly the most critically-acclaimed and avant-garde of the sketch comedy and variety series during this era, though it was far from the only one, and it was far from the most popular, either. The Goodies, which debuted the year after Python, had a much firmer slapstick orientation, allowing for far greater universality and comprehensibility. This same broad appeal, especially with younger viewers, provoked the inevitable criticism of the show being “childish”; an unfortunate criticism, as the Goodies had almost as diverse a set of influences, and almost as eclectic an overall comedic style, as the Pythons. The Benny Hill Show, a long-running program entirely reliant on slapstick and double entendres, also faced harsh criticism from moral guardians and the intelligentsia alike, despite being hugely popular, at home and abroad; with its iconic sped-up chase sequences, set to the tune of “Yakety Sax”, proving instantly memorable and often imitated. But perhaps the most popular – and certainly the most beloved – sketch comedy was produced by the team of Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise, who had worked together since 1941. The most recent incarnation of their television career, simply titled The Morecambe & Wise Show, had aired on the BBC since 1968. Morecambe unfortunately suffered a heart attack in November of that year, but he was able to prove the old adage true when that which did not kill him ultimately made him (creatively) stronger, especially after he and Wise were teamed with writer Eddie Braben, who refined their comic personae for more modern sensibilities. From that point forward, they were appointment television, attracting ever-growing audiences throughout the 1970s.

    Another sketch comedy series was The Two Ronnies, which
    featured one of the earliest Star Trek parodies on British television, as part of its first season of episodes in 1971. It played on said two Ronnies – Corbett and Barker, who naturally played Kirk and Spock, respectively – looking nothing like William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, which became a plot point: the cause was a mysterious machine on an alien planet; hijinks ensued. [8] This initial parody, the first of many television parodies on the program, would directly lead into their second Star Trek parody, also part of the first season. A typical parody of Till Death Us Do Part, starring the two Ronnies as Alf and Mike, was suddenly interrupted by the crew of the Enterprise (in which the two Ronnies reprised their roles as Kirk and Spock, through the use of split-screening and body doubles – as added meta-humour, the body doubles for Kirk and Spock were deliberately made to resemble Shatner and Nimoy instead of Corbett and Barker) beaming down and explaining that they had followed a “silly moo” (Alf’s famous term for his wife, Else) all the way from outer space. An obvious reference to the Star Trek-Doctor Who crossover, which had aired just a few months earlier in the UK [9], it became so popular that many other sketch comedies of the era aired their own such parodies – a phenomenon which reached its zenith in the Royal Variety Performance of 1972, in which Barker and Corbett made an unannounced appearance interrupting a sketch performed by the actual cast of Till Death Us Do Part – though in this version, they are swiftly shooed away by Alf Garnett, and the original sketch continues as “planned”, after an enthusiastic audience response. [10]

    One of the commonalities to most forms of “light entertainment” in the UK was that their production runs were much shorter than those in the US, with six to eight episodes per season being the British standard (in contrast to 26 episodes per season for American series). There were palpable risks and rewards with this rate of output, primarily of the eggs-to-basket variety, but the fact remained that British audiences tended to prefer this method on their homegrown programming – after all, if they ever wanted to watch shows with lots of episodes, all they had to do was watch an American import. Star Trek was just one example of their popularity. For as much as the British loved comedy, so too did they appreciate action-adventure and science-fiction programming, which, for that matter, included their own such shows

    ---

    [1] Today, NTSC and PAL are better known for their importance in video game localization, as many games have historically been chosen for export from Japan (which uses a modified version of NTSC) in only one of these two markets (North America and Europe, respectively), which have mutually incompatible technology.

    [2] Behind the Green Baize Door was a working title (and concept) for what eventually became Upstairs, Downstairs
    – the epic story of an upper-class family in Belgravia through the early 20th century IOTL. This also explains its absence from Emmy eligibility in the Outstanding Drama Series category ITTL.

    [3] Recall that, IOTL, this series was instead produced as All in the Family. The development of Those Were the Days is detailed here and here.

    [4] Actually, it was the aforementioned
    “Mini-Boom” that inspired the (premature, relative to Joey Stivic IOTL) birth of Mikey Higgins ITTL.

    [5] The Library Mob, so named because said library is a frequent haunt of the central characters, was a working title for Last of the Summer Wine IOTL.

    [6] And Now For Something Completely Different was a flop in the US IOTL, but it becomes a sleeper hit thanks primarily to the presence of Booth (who, due to her role as Linda Johnson, appeared very little within Flying Circus proper ITTL), and generates excellent word-of-mouth. PBS, for their part, has a wide-open timeslot that, IOTL, went to Doctor Who, which allows Monty Python to fit right in, ahead of schedule.

    [7] Python received a truncated fourth season IOTL, with limited involvement from Cleese. He wants nothing to do with it ITTL, for the already-mentioned reasons along with those of OTL; in concert with added momentum for a more lavish and elaborate film version, this results in the near thing becoming a near-miss instead.

    [8] This sketch on which this one is based actually aired in 1973, during the third season, IOTL. It can be found online right here, though the version that aired ITTL would have minor differences from the OTL version. Worth noting, as observed by Thande, is how many classical parody elements are strangely absent from this sketch.

    [9] The four-part arc aired on Doctor Who throughout the month of January, 1971 (and the Star Trek version, a two-parter, in September, 1970), as detailed here.

    [10] The cast of Till Death Us Do Part did indeed appear on the Royal Variety Performance of 1972 IOTL, though obviously they were not interrupted by the Two Ronnies as they were performing their sketch. This synergistic appearance (as both programs appeared on BBC1) is the culmination of the “Captain Kirk Interruption” sketch, which goes on to become a cliché (the most obvious subversion – someone from a British series interrupting a Star Trek parody – is exploited by 1973).

    ---

    Special thanks to Thande for his suggestions and advice in the writing of this update! I could not have painted a picture of British television in the early 1970s ITTL without having been briefed on what it was like IOTL, after all! And I can only hope that those of you non-Brits (and non-Anglophiles) who are reading now have further insight!

    Actually, that
    s not true. I can also hope that you all appreciated the numerous call-backs to previous updates. And as is so often the case, I have more information than I can comfortably fit into a single post, so well be back exploring “the telly” at a later date. One good thing to come out of all this planning that, rather than a drought of topics for the late 1970s, as I initially feared, a flood is becoming much likelier, instead! Someday we will reach the 1980s, though, I can promise you that!

    Special note: All uses of the word
    “series” in this update refer to the entire production run of a television program; “season” refers to the production period(s) therein.


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    Appendix B, Part IV: The Lion, the Beaver, and the Eagle
  • Appendix B, Part IV: The Lion, the Beaver, and the Eagle

    Welcome back to Appendix B! This update will be written primarily as a standard update, with all footnotes to come at the end of the three parts, which each comprise a political update about a different power. Some supplementary information, however, will be provided in the familiar red text. Be warned that this post is far more politically-charged than most others have been in the past, even by the standards of previous political posts, and discusses ideologies and movements that may be sensitive and controversial, especially since they will fall within the living memory of many of my readers. For those of you who dislike the standard War-and-Politics material, this update is not necessary to enjoy the rest of the timeline; it simply exists as background material to enrich and provide context for the popular culture updates that form the bulk of the thread.

    The Lion: The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

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    Arms of Her Majestys Government in the United Kingdom.

    In 1966, England won the World Cup, and the incumbent British Government (recently returned, with a massive majority) saw that it was good.

    In 1970, England was poised to defend their title, but the competition was fierce. Though they had defeated all of their opponents (save for the nigh-invulnerable Brazil) in the qualifying rounds, it was a tough road ahead to the championship. They only narrowly defeated West Germany whom they had defeated last time in the finalswith a score of 4 to 3, with extra time added; but it was all for naught, as an equally narrow loss, to Italy, followed in the semifinals. In the meantime, the Soviet Union had defeated Uruguay, only to lose to Brazil; this meant that they would be the ones facing England to determine who would come in third overall. And on May 20, 1970, England defeated the Soviet Union for third-place, with Brazil winning the cup against Italy the following day. [1] England scored ten goals overall: Martin Peters led the pack with four, tying him for third overall with Brazilian superstar Pélé; Allan Clarke followed with three, and Geoff Hurst with two. (Another Brazilian player, Jairzinho, led overall with seven goals).

    The incumbent Labour government was returned in the election held less than one month later, though with a greatly reduced majority from 1966, underperforming most polls. Nevertheless, Prime Minister Harold Wilson became the first to lead his party to three successive election victories since Lord Liverpool in 1820. Labour lost 35 seats, with their party reduced to 329 MPs; the Conservatives, led for the second time by Edward Heath, gained 38 (at the expense of the Liberals along with Labour), bringing their tally to 291. The Liberal Party, once one of the two dominant parties in British politics along with the Conservatives (as remained the case in Canada), continued their marginal existence; losing votes, and half their seats, under new leader Jeremy Thorpe. Only 6 Liberal MPs would sit in the 45th Parliament. They were joined by one MP, Donald Stewart, of the Scottish Nationalist Party, who advocated independence for Scotland. It was an unexpected victory for a fringe and radical party, albeit one that would be greatly bolstered in the years ahead. In addition, three MPs, all from Northern Ireland, were also returned. [2] In terms of votes, Labour finished narrowly ahead of the Conservatives, at 45.6% to 44.2%. The Liberals received only 7.2% of the vote, with the SNP just barely managing more than 1%.

    One frequently conjectured possibility regarding the underwhelming victory margin for Labour was the effectiveness of the famous “Rivers of Blood” speech by Conservative MP Enoch Powell, which was believed to have resonated with working-class voters (who would ordinarily be inclined to back Labour). Powell, eager to translate his popularity with a large segment of the British electorate into increased status within his party, was inspired to demand that Edward Heath who had twice failed to bring the Tories to power put the prospect of his continued leadership to a vote. He was not the only one, as monetarist Keith Joseph quickly echoed these calls, as did numerous backbenchers and the party faithful. Heath resisted, but eventually yielded to recommendations that he submit his leadership to party review. In the ensuing round of ballots, Heath finished behind Powell, though neither was anywhere near a majority due to the presence of Joseph in the race. Heath accepted the will of his party and withdrew from the race, and therefore his position as leader making him the first Conservative leader never to become Prime Minister. But the Conservative Party lived up to their name when they eschewed the opportunity to move in a radical new direction under either Powell or Joseph; William Whitelaw, an obvious Heath proxy, entered the race in the second round and, coming up the middle between them, emerged victorious, becoming the new Leader of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition. [3] Joseph was eventually appointed Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Powell, who represented Northern Ireland under the Ulster Unionist banner, was made Shadow Secretary for that constituent country. Prime Minister Wilson had appointed Roy Mason in the Cabinet Shuffle that had followed the 1970 election, and it was deemed necessary that a strong Conservative voice be heard on the matter.

    One of the primary problems facing Parliament in the early 1970s was the European Question, which bitterly divided the Labour Party. Many on the party’s left-wing, including a large proportion of newly elected MPs, opposed European integration, represented by the United Kingdom joining the European Economic Community; negotiations were underway in order to do so, the block placed by former French President De Gaulle having been lifted by his successor, Georges Pompidou. The right-wing, on the other hand, along with many of the opposition Conservatives, supported joining. Negotiations crawled to a standstill, however, as many sticking points eventually proved insurmountable. Members of the EEC, annoyed at the stalled negotiations, admitted Denmark alone in 1973. [4] Though the Republic of Ireland was planning to enter the EEC as well, it would not be feasible without the United Kingdom doing so alongside them, due to the vital trade and migration links between the two states. Naturally, many Irish were deeply resentful of their continuing reliance on Perfidious Albion, despite their hard-fought independence, won half a century earlier. They also sympathized very deeply with their nationalist brethren, who longed to create a United Ireland. As a result, the early 1970s marked the high point of Anglo-Irish tensions in the post-war era.

    With the EEC negotiations crumbling, Britain sought to strengthen her existing ties to the Commonwealth realms, and found themselves facing a very attractive potential partner: the Dominion of Canada, the eighth-largest economy in the world, and the second-largest in the Commonwealth, behind only the United Kingdom itself. Under Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, Canada had moved away from the Western Allies in general and the Commonwealth in particular; but new Prime Minister Robert Stanfield was eager to bridge the rifts that had formed between them, and solidify relations with Britain (“once you were our mother nation”, as he would explain to Harold Wilson in an early 1973 meeting, “and now we are the dearest sister nations, but what matters is that we’re still immediate family”). After the Oil Crisis hit, and as it rapidly became clear that the EEC had no further room for expansion, Britain and Canada began to approach stronger trade ties. The same courtesy was extended to the Republic of Ireland, partly to retain their tacit co-operation with regards to the North, and partly as a conciliatory gesture with regards to EEC admission. The recession hit Eire particularly hard, and pragmatism eventually won out over pride. That said, their hand was certainly forced by the new leadership elected throughout Europe, led by French President Francois Mitterand, having shifted their focus to strengthening economic and political ties between existing EEC members, rather than seeking new ones. [5] The British Isles were firmly on the outside, looking in.

    But the governing Labour Party was beset by divisions: on their economic direction, ranging from the social-democratic post-war consensus to outright Marxism; on Northern Ireland, though sectarian violence had been minimized under the watchful eye of Roy Mason, and the overwhelming majority of nationalists favoured a peaceful solution and saw Britain as a relatively neutral arbiter, the search for enduring peace, order, and good government continued [6]; on trade relations, from closer relations with the Commonwealth to formal integration with the Inner Six (now seven, after Denmark had joined) of the continent vs. independent self-reliance, or none-of-the-above; many of the newer, younger MPs were firmly anti-Europe leftists, whereas the older, more established MPs (including Mason, one of few unambiguously successful ministers in the Wilson government) were more moderate in their outlook, and favoured integration with the continent. These constant disputes, along with frequent by-elections, gradually whittled the supposedly comfortable Labour majority into a very tenuous hold on Parliament, even before the Oil Crisis, which then proved enough to force an election in early 1974.

    The economic downturn, coupled with voter fatigue at Labour having governed for a decade – their longest-ever tenure – was naturally enough to see the Tories swept in on a landslide in the general election, held in February, 1974. Nonetheless, the sheer magnitude of the Conservative victory was impressive. Their vote share had climbed to over 47%, their best showing since 1959 (though Labour had done better in 1966); the Labour vote collapsed to below 36%, their worst showing since the Great Depression. Many right-leaning Labour voters who had abandoned the party voted for the Liberals, whose own voter core had solidified, with little crossover to the Tories: the party nearly doubled their vote share (to over 13%, their best showing since the Depression) and their seat count. Though in terms of relative growth, the SNP took the prize: they doubled their vote share and quadrupled their seat count, from one to four. All three of their gains had been at the expense of the Labour Party; unsurprisingly, the rise of the SNP was precipitated by the discovery of none other than oil in the North Sea, in notionally Scottish waters (hence their slogan: “Its Scotlands oil”). A similar nationalist party, this one in Wales, called Plaid Cymru (Welsh for The Party of Wales, as the Welsh language was far more prominently spoken in Wales than either Lowland Scots or Scottish Gaelic were in Scotland), also won two seats, again at Labour expense. Northern Irish parties won four seats, with the Ulster Unionists winning all remaining seats there for the Conservatives. The Tories gained nearly 100 seats in the election, finishing with 389 MPs. Labour lost over 100, dropping to 224; the Liberals finished with 12 seats.

    The results in the United Kingdom General Election, 1970 are: 329 seats and 45.59% of the vote for Labour; 291 seats and 44.16% of the vote for the Conservatives; 6 seats and 7.24% of the vote for the Liberals; 1 seat and 1.01% of the vote for the SNP; and 3 seats for all other parties, for a government majority of 28.

    The results in the
    United Kingdom General Election, 1974 are: 389 seats and 47.17% of the vote for the Conservatives; 224 seats and 35.64% of the vote for Labour; 12 seats and 13.36% of the vote for the Liberals; 4 seats and 2.04% of the vote for the SNP; 2 seats for Plaid Cymru; and 4 seats for all other parties, for a government majority of 143. The Tories receive nearly 15 million votes, the largest number of popular votes for any party in British electoral history.

    The Beaver: The Dominion of Canada

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    Arms of the Parliament of Canada, legislative branch of Her Majesty
    s Government in Canada.

    As the Canadian electorate had returned a minority government in the election of 1972, the new Prime Minister, Robert Stanfield, had to proceed carefully in working to implement much of his campaign platform. Fortunately for them, there were three other parties in Parliament, two of which were willing to negotiate terms with them in regards to many of the key issues of the day (only the Opposition Liberals, who had been unseated in the election, consistently voted against government bills). The New Democratic Party, who were democratic socialists in the European vein (their previous incarnation, a typical North American rural populist party, had merged with the organized labour machine in 1962), found a surprisingly rich vein of common ground with the governing Progressive Conservatives, as did the Quebec-dominated Social Credit Party.

    The Canadian Forces had been amalgamated into a unitary, cohesive organizational structure by Trudeau, and although Stanfield could not fully reverse this change (partly because he did admire its efficiency along with the camaraderie that it promoted, across the services), he did re-establish the prior ranks, uniforms, and branch names in use prior to 1968. Her Majesty’s Canadian Armed Forces, as they were formally known (and as the government consistently referred to them), once again consisted of the Canadian Army, the Royal Canadian Navy, and the Royal Canadian Air Force, all of which had served the Dominion with valour and distinction in both World Wars (excluding the First, in the case of the RCAF), and in Korea. This was met with the enthusiastic support of the Canadian populace, which included hundreds of thousands of surviving front-line veterans. [7] Another change concerned the resources available to the military: by the end of World War II, Canada had possessed the third-largest navy in the world; since 1970, the Royal Canadian Navy had no active carriers in service (HMCS Bonaventure had been decommissioned that year). But in 1973, the Canadian government negotiated the acquisition of the HMS Eagle, a decommissioned British carrier that was due for scrap and salvage, at a very reasonable price. [8] She arrived in Halifax amid much fanfare; she was then taken to Saint John, New Brunswick for refit, and was planned to be ready in time for the 1976 Olympics, to be held in Montreal, and attended by the Queen.

    Language was another hotly-debated issue. English Canadians overwhelmingly opposed Official Bilingualism which reckoned English and French, the two most widely-spoken languages in Canada, at equal levels of importance though they did vaguely support the notion of Francophones being provided services by the federal government in the French language. The majority of the PC caucus also opposed bilingualism, though Prime Minister Stanfield broadly supported it. Even if he hadn’t, he knew that negotiations would be forced on the issue, largely because the Socreds insisted on Official Bilingualism as a condition of their support (as did Tory-turned-Independent MP, Roch LaSalle). The provincial government in largely Francophone Quebec, led by Premier Robert Bourassa, also demanded bilingual services; though they themselves were unwilling to provide English-language services to their Anglophone minority, and even planned to restrict the use of English in the province. With that in mind, Stanfield was able to apply some leverage, and a compromise gradually emerged: French-language services would be provided by the federal government to regions where French was spoken in sufficiently large numbers (above the national average was chosen as the working threshold). Individual government employees, however, would not be required to be bilingual unless they worked in bilingual regions, and even then, they would be allowed to continue employment with a “working knowledge” of the French language. [9] At the same time, Stanfield gave his proposal some teeth by insisting to Bourassa that the extra funding so generously being provided for the upcoming Olympic games including on the elaborate transportation network that was being developed to connect the facilities in Montreal to the new, oversized airport being built in the boonies was conditional on his agreement to provide the English-speaking minority of Quebec the same services offered by the federal government to the French-speaking minority of Canada.

    Canada sought closer relations with the United States and with the United Kingdom, which was a marked contrast to Trudeau’s policies. Trade relations with the United Kingdom (and, by extension, Australia and New Zealand) were a key topic of discussion. Attempting trade reciprocity with the United States was rejected out of hand, for fear that American interests would overwhelm the Canadian economy; but Britain was deemed sufficiently distant that such things would not prove too threatening, especially with the proper safeguards. [10] On the other hand, it was no surprise that relations with Red China – rather cordial under Trudeau – rapidly deteriorated. Although it would not be feasible to reverse the recognition previously extended by the Canadian government, as the writing was already on the wall, Stanfield made clear that the Canadian government was no friend of Red China, and his government would continue to accept political refugees and those seeking asylum from their tyrannical regime. After the Oil Crisis, Stanfield immediately set to work implementing wage and price controls, and working to attract foreign investment. The oil deposits in Alberta proved an interesting bargaining chip; Stanfield expressed an interest in co-operating with the Alberta government to invest in oil extraction in such a way as to benefit all Canadians. Albertans weren’t thrilled about that kind of talk, and neither was Alberta Premier Peter Lougheed, but then Trudeau made his proposal, suggesting a coordinated, national program to extract the oil and make it affordable and available for all Canadians (particularly Central Canadians – in Ontario and Quebec – was the unspoken implication). [11] This was in flagrant violation of Canadian custom, which enshrined natural resources as a provincial, not federal, jurisdiction. Trudeau was attacked from both sides (the NDP sensed an opening for their party in the West), but stubbornly refused to back down from the idea, knowing that it was a vote-getter in Quebec (and possibly Ontario), where he needed to do well.

    Trudeau was successfully painted by Stanfield on one side, and by NDP leader David Lewis on the other, as a blatant sympathizer to Communist ideals, particularly those of Red China – which had essentially replaced Soviet Russia as the boogeyman. And it could not be denied – Trudeau had recognized the People’s Republic of China almost immediately upon taking office, and had cultivated a personal friendship with Cuban leader Fidel Castro. He had surprisingly chilly relations with both Humphrey and Wilson (both of whom were left-leaning, to boot!), in contrast to the much warmer relations cultivated by Stanfield. Trudeau attempted – in vain – to attack Stanfield as reactionary and his views as intolerant, but this went nowhere, as Stanfield was seen as open-minded, principled, and willing to compromise, not to mention that his policies were widely supported by the Canadian populace. Also, his name-calling lowered the level of political discourse, preventing him from one potential advantage of having run a clean, higher-ground campaign. In the resultant elections, in which over ten million ballots were cast for the very first time, the Tories won 142 seats, nine more than the 133 needed for a majority. They won the most seats in every province except for the Liberal stronghold of Quebec, sweeping Alberta and Stanfield’s native Nova Scotia, and utterly dominating Ontario, the most populous province, where they won more than two-thirds of the seats there on nearly half the vote. Outside of Quebec, the Liberals performed well in mostly Francophone areas (Acadia in New Brunswick, Northern and Eastern Ontario, and St. Boniface in Manitoba, their only seat west of Ontario), but nowhere else. We have been reduced from the first choice of all Canadians, to the choice of only those who think like Mr. Trudeau,” a Liberal strategist wryly remarked [12]; it was only their relative strength in the East (and Quebec in particular) that allowed them to cling to their status as Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition. The Tories, on the other hand, won their first majority government since 1958.

    The results in the Canadian Federal Election, 1974 are: 142 seats and 42.18% of the vote for the Progressive Conservatives; 64 seats and 29.11% of the vote for the Liberals; 31 seats and 17.59% of the vote for the New Democrats; and 27 seats and 10.61% of the vote for Social Credit, for a government majority of 20.

    The Eagle: The United States of America

    tumblr_m4w616SAjc1qlz9dno1_r1_500.png


    Seal of the United States Congress, the legislative branch of the United States Government (used unofficially; each House has its own distinct seal).

    The Yom Kippur War, and the ensuing Oil Crisis, was one of the defining symbols of the weakness of the Humphrey administration in the foreign policy arena.

    Humphrey knew that he about a year to work with his (barely) Democratic Congress before the now-certain midterm Republican landslide that would render him a lame-duck President. His most dramatic action was the decision to remove the United States from the Gold Standard in 1974, marking the effective end of the Breton Woods system in use at the time. [13] Though this measure was widely supported by Keynesian economists as a means of getting out of recession through increasing the potential for economic growth and government spending, it was met with fierce opposition from certain quarters. The “Great Society” and the post-war consensus of tax-and-spend now had to shoulder the biggest recession since the Great Depression, which happened entirely despite their preventative policies. There was a growing call for more radical solutions…

    The infamous Cyprus Incident of July, 1974, was perhaps the most notorious foreign adventure taking place during Humphrey’s second term. Attempts had been made by pro-Enosis (union with Greece) forces to stage a coup détat on the island, in response to a second successive coup in Greece itself (following a previous coup in 1967). This was thwarted with American and British assistance (though British involvement was limited, and primarily consultative, in order to bring the United Kingdom back into the good books of the European powers, who were largely united against the present Greek regime), as it was decided that such a coup would be interpreted by Turkey, an important and valuable NATO ally, as provocative; at worst, it could result in a major conflict in the Eastern Med for the second year in a row. [14] However, word quickly spread to Greece, already a pariah state in Europe, who promptly withdrew from the NATO organizational structure, as France had done some years before (for entirely different reasons). It was a thoroughly mixed bag for the United States; it was an actively interventionist activity which did much to combat their recent reputation for passivity; but it also had been poorly received in many quarters, particularly among the Greek diaspora. Meanwhile, anti-communist activities conducted by the CIA worked to subvert a military coup in Ethiopia, which had planned to depose the Emperor, Haile Selassie, whose popularity had been severely shaken, given famines (common to the Horn of Africa) and the Oil Crisis. His only surviving son, and Heir Apparent, had died of a severe stroke in 1973 [15]; his grandson, Zera Yacob, a student at Oxford University, became the new Heir Apparent and Crown Prince of Ethiopia. It was widely believed by CIA agents that recent attempts to depose the Emperor were backed by the Soviets, who were working to extend their influence in Africa; the neighbouring country of Somalia had allied itself with the Communist bloc in 1969. Africa had become an ideological battleground.

    There were a great many reasons why there were such seismic shifts in the midterm elections of 1974. In addition to the Oil Crisis and the ensuing recession, as well as the growing sense of an administration adrift on foreign policy matters, there was a complacency on the part of incumbents, and a certain invigoration on the part of the challengers. As in the United Kingdom, voter fatigue had played a part – the Democrats had controlled the Presidency since 1961, and both Houses of Congress since 1955. The Republicans had been shut out of Congress for 20 years, longer, in fact, than the fourteen years (1933-47) they had been shut out as a result of the Great Depression.

    The Democrats lost 56 seats in the House of Representatives, their biggest decline since 1920, leaving them with only 164 seats in the lower chamber, their smallest caucus since before the Great Depression. The Republicans gained 49 of those 56, their best showing since 1946, bringing them to a majority for the first time in two decades, with 253 seats total; their largest caucus, also since before the Great Depression. The American Party picked up seven seats, including in North Carolina and Texas, for a total of 18 – the largest third-party caucus in the House of Representatives since 1896 (when the Populists won 22 seats). This reorientation of seats allowed the incumbent Minority Leader, Gerald R. Ford of Michigan, to fulfill his lifelong political ambition of becoming Speaker of the House of Representatives. Other House Republican leadership included the new Majority Leader, Donald Rumsfeld of Illinois; George Bush of Texas; and John Anderson, also of Illinois. [16] The Republicans won House seats virtually everywhere – in some cases, picking up seats in areas they had failed to carry since the 1920s. One of their more surprising victories was in California’s 5th Congressional district, comprising Marin County and parts of ultra-liberal San Francisco, in which Japanese-Canadian-American academic S.I. Hayakawa emerged victorious. [17] Complementing their victory there, they also gained seats in much of New York City, including parts of Queens (the 6th, which also included parts of Nassau County), Brooklyn (the 15th), and even Downtown Manhattan (the 17th, which to be fair was largely based in Staten Island). They even made inroads into Southern states, even though every one of the 18 seats won by the American Party was in the South, which limited their growth potential (much as they limited American Party potential everywhere outside of the South).

    The Democrats also lost nine seats in the Senate, dropping from 48 to 39, and failed to make a single gain at the expense of the Republicans, who won seven seats from them, for a total of 55. The American Party tripled the size of their Senate caucus when National Democrat Sen. James Allen of Alabama, a close friend and confidant of Gov. George Wallace, officially switched allegiance to the American Democrats; Jesse Helms of North Carolina was also successful in his second run. Both joined Sen. Lester Maddox of Georgia in the AIP caucus. Hugh Scott and Mike Mansfield, who had been the Minority and Majority Leaders, respectively, switched places in the new Senate. Scott, like Ford in the lower house, was a moderate; he found himself facing increasing divisions within the ranks between his fellow moderates and conservatives. The new President pro tempore was the Senate’s senior Republican, Milton Young of North Dakota. He replaced Democrat James Eastland, who had been relatively inactive in the position due to the precarious partisan balance; this required the actual President of the Senate, Edmund Muskie, to remain on hand and break ties. George Aiken, a Republican from Vermont, and the senior-most Senator, retired at the end of the previous Congress, but was graciously permitted to serve as President Pro Tem for a single day by the lame-duck Senate. [18]

    A few prominent races in the Senate included the nomination challenge in New York, in which liberal Jacob Javits was defeated by Rep. Jack Kemp, who went on to win the election (with Javits splitting the left-wing vote by running on the Liberal Party ticket), and the victory of Gov. Dale Bumpers in Arkansas, the only freshman Democrat elected to the Upper House. With regards to gubernatorial races: In New York, longtime Rockefeller running-mate Malcolm Wilson finally became Governor in his own right after his boss’s retirement; California Treasurer Houston I. Flournoy narrowly defeated conservative Lt. Gov. Ed Reinecke for the Republican nomination for Governor (vacated by Gov. Ronald Reagan as he prepared to run for President in 1976), and he then won the general election against Jerry Brown, son of former Governor Pat Brown; Rep. John Ashbrook defeated former Gov. James Rhodes for the Republican nomination for Governor of Ohio, subsequently defeating incumbent Gov. John J. Gilligan; former Madison Mayor William Dyke defeated incumbent Gov. Patrick Lucey of Wisconsin; Republican Gen. William Westmoreland won the election in South Carolina, the term-limited Gov. Albert Watson trying his luck for Senate against Sen. Fritz Hollings (and losing); Arlen Specter won in Pennsylvania; and, of course, George Wallace solidified his hold on Alabama (with the American Democrats winning both houses of the state legislature, giving him complete control), with the AIP also winning the vacant gubernatorial race in Georgia.

    The results in the United States House of Representatives Elections, 1974 are: 253 seats for the Republicans; 164 seats for the Democrats (also known as the DFL, DNL, and NDP in various states); and 18 seats for the American Party (known as the American Democratic Party in Alabama), for a Republican majority of 71.

    The results in the United States Senate Elections, 1974 are: 55 seats for the Republicans; 39 seats for the Democrats (also known as the DFL and DNL in various states); 3 seats for the American Party (known as the American Democratic Party in Alabama); 1 seat for the Conservative Party (who identifies and caucuses with the Republicans); and 2 seats for Independents (both of whom identify and caucus with the Democrats), for a Republican majority of 12.

    Addenda

    [1] IOTL, England lost to West Germany, who then lost to Italy and defeated Uruguay to come in third. It was a massive disappointment for the defending champions; whereas, in many ways, their third-place finish here would be better for morale than their making the championship, only to lose to Brazil (and they would lose to Brazil), because Second Place Is For Losers. (It also helps that defeating the superpower Soviet Union, as opposed to little Uruguay, would also do wonders for English morale). England scored only four goals overall IOTL; their loss in the quarterfinals is considered a key reason for the surprise Labour defeat in the subsequent general election.

    [2] The historical results in the United Kingdom General Election, 1970 were: 330 seats and 46.44% of the vote for the Conservatives; 288 seats and 43.13% of the vote for Labour; 6 seats and 7.48% of the vote for the Liberals; 1 seat and 1.08% of the vote for the SNP; and 5 seats for all other parties.

    [3] Heath, having been elected Prime Minister in 1970 IOTL, naturally survived his entire term, and ran for re-election in February 1974; as Labour were held to a minority, he was able to force another election for that October. Labour won that rematch with a razor-thin majority; Heath had every intention of continuing as leader until he was forced out in early 1975, much the same fashion as ITTL. By this point, Powell (along with the other Ulster Unionists) had deserted the Conservative Party, and Joseph had been discredited by a speech made in 1974, allowing a
    protégée of his, Mrs Margaret Thatcher, who had served in the Heath Cabinet, to run on behalf of the monetarist faction of the party. Whitelaw attempted his proxy run in the second round IOTL as well, but Mrs Thatcher proved victorious, winning the leadership and the subsequent general election.

    [4] Of the three states to join the EEC in 1973 IOTL, only Denmark submitted the proposal to a popular referendum, which passed, with 63.3% in favour to 37.7% against. ITTL, though that margin is narrower, a solid majority still supports joining the EEC. In Britain ITTL, many of the points of contention that gave the Heath Tories pause IOTL are enough to stop negotiations dead among the far more divided Labour parliamentary party.

    [5] Pompidou dies more-or-less on schedule, with the stronger shock from the Oil Crisis and ensuing recession hitting Europe (because Britain and Ireland are not part of the EEC), coupled with a more amicable
    détente with the Soviet Union, allowing socialism to prove more palatable to the French electorate; therefore, it is Mitterand who narrowly emerges victorious, rather than dEstaing doing so as IOTL. Most European leaders see this recession as a test of the EEC, and want to work to keep it functioning.

    [6] Bloody Sunday
    – along with various precursor events – has been butterflied away ITTL. This results in the vast majority of nationalists continuing to view the British Government and Army as generally (though certainly not flawlessly) neutral, judicious arbiters. The ongoing activities of paramilitary groups on both sides are widely decried by authorities, along with moderates and (naturally) non-sectarians. Direct rule has been imposed, and negotiations are ongoing in order to create a devolved legislature.

    [7] Many of these restorations have been gradually implemented in the more than four decades since 1968 IOTL, culminating in the return to the WWII-era branch names in 2011, a decision that was far more controversial given the lack of connection many Canadians have with their history, and the diminishing proportion of the electorate represented by veterans of the aforementioned conflicts (worth noting is that more Canadian soldiers, per capita, fought in World War II than any other Allied power).

    [8] HMS Eagle was decommissioned in 1972, but remained in reserve until 1976 and was generally considered operable until 1974, at which point she was stripped of parts for her sister ship, HMS Ark Royal. During the trade talks between Stanfield and Wilson in early 1973 ITTL, Stanfield brings up Eagle and offers to take her off the hands of the United Kingdom (many within the Royal Navy considered her eminently seaworthy and lamented her decommission). Wilson agrees to make the sale as a good faith gesture.

    [9] Official Bilingualism had been government policy since the Official Languages Act of 1969, though it was implemented gradually, and served as a major issue in the campaigns of both 1972 and 1974 IOTL. Though Stanfield does support bilingualism, he is more mindful of the non-Francophone population (not to mention the civil service) and works to fashion a reasonable compromise. At about this time IOTL, Quebec implemented a language law (Bill 22) making French the sole official language of the province, severely restricting the use of English, in direct violation of previously established federal and constitutional law, though no action was taken by the federal government. This would not happen ITTL, as it is known that any such law would instead be vigorously fought, and this fact (in addition to the Olympic funding blackmail) has prevented its passage.

    [10] IOTL, the 1911 federal election was fought primarily on the issue of
    “trade reciprocity” – essentially, mutually reduced tariffs on certain goods – with the United States; the 1988 election was fought primarily on the Free Trade Agreement (the precursor to NAFTA) with the United States. Intriguingly, the Tories and the Liberals fought those two elections on different sides of the issue (the Tories won, on both occasions). ITTL, neither Stanfield nor Trudeau would support reciprocity with the United States.

    [11] Trudeau would pass legislation enacting this policy – which became known as the National Energy Program – in 1980 IOTL. It was so incredibly unpopular with Western (particularly Albertan) voters that it fueled the rise of a separatist movement (the Western Canada Concept) which actually returned a member to the Alberta legislature in 1982, the one and only time that a separatist legislator has been elected outside of Quebec since the Anti-Confederates of the 1870s.

    [12] Why does Trudeau do so poorly ITTL? One of the reasons is that he has never had to go on the offensive against anyone except for Joe Clark – perhaps the most awkward, ineffectual politician in Canadian history in 1980. Stanfield, though he is earnest and uncharismatic, is also far more competent and likeable than Clark, and is able to deflect Trudeau’s attacks very effectively (with some able assistance from Lewis and Caouette). Trudeau also runs against Stanfield’s most popular policies (restoring the facade of the old armed forces, purchasing the aircraft carrier, forging closer relations with the Western Allies, turning the cold shoulder to China) and duly suffers the consequences.

    [13] IOTL, the United States was removed from the Gold Standard in 1971, spurring what became known as the
    “Nixon Shock”. This was done largely as a compensatory move due to the mounting expenses relating the overseas quagmire (and related adventures), and was obviously unnecessary at that point ITTL.

    [14] The coup was successful IOTL and the pro-Enosis government was installed, resulting in a retaliatory invasion by Turkey, dividing the island into Greek and Turkish zones (separated by the United Nations) to this day. The coup also resulted in the collapse of the Greek junta, which therefore survives ITTL (though it remains a pariah state).

    [15] Amha Selassie, the only son of Haile Selassie to outlive his father, survived this massive stroke IOTL, recuperating in Switzerland and refusing to accept the crown offered to him once his father had been deposed. His son, Zera Yacob, finished his education at Oxford and became pretender to the throne upon the death of his father in 1997.

    [16] Rumsfeld has represented the 12th Congressional District (the 13th District prior to 1973) of Illinois since 1963. He was recruited by Richard Nixon to the Office of Economic Opportunity in 1969 IOTL, marking the beginning of a long career in the executive branch of government. Bush has represented the 7th District of Texas since 1967; he was recruited (again by Nixon) to run against Sen. Ralph Yarborough in 1970 IOTL; Yarborough was defeated for renomination by Lloyd Bentsen, who then defeated Bush.

    [17] Hayakawa, an academic, ran for the Senate against Sen. John V. Tunney in 1976, and won the seat. He instead runs for the House in the district containing his home of Mill Valley, having been defeated for the chance to run for the Senate seat against Sen. Alan Cranston by the OTL candidate, H.L. Richardson, who then wins the seat.

    [18] The exact same thing happened to Milton Young at the end of the 96th Congress IOTL, as he chose to retire instead of running again in 1980. Young was only the second-most senior Senator overall, however, because one Democrat (Warren G. Magnuson, who also retired in 1980) had served for longer than he.

    Postscript

    I hope you enjoyed this look into the wider world of That Wacky Redhead! Special thanks must go to Thande, Electric Monk, and vultan, who served as my consultants for the British, Canadian, and American sections of this update, respectively. Thanks also to MaskedPickle for his advice with regards to the situation in France. Also, shout-out to TheMann, with whom I never interacted in any way, shape, or form, for his idea of the HMS Eagle being sold to the sadly carrier-free Canadian Forces instead of being stripped for parts and sold for scrap as IOTL. As in his excellent timeline Canadian Power, the newly-rechristened HMCS Eagle will serve a long and illustrious career as the flagship of the Royal Canadian Navy, though I will certainly not mention her technical specs, nor her exploits, in deference to him (because he does it so much better than I ever could).

    Among my creations in the making of this update is a list of U.S. Senators, ranked by seniority, ITTL, as of the beginning of the 94th Congress. And I must say, this whole exercise has given me an appreciation of the breadth of 1970s politics, which are so incredibly dense that its so easy to see why they preoccupy the interests of so many members of this forum. But as previously mentioned, these current events will serve primarily as background to the popular culture that dominates this timeline; in other words, this kind of post is the exception, not the rule. Thank you all very much for your continued understanding on this matter.

    And with that, we have reached the end of the 1973-74 cycle!
     
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    1974-75: The More Things Change
  • The More Things Change (1974-75)

    April 9, 1975

    It was high noon at Desilu Productions, and several of the company’s top executives were having a discussion in the office of their studio chief.

    “Why do they always have to have the Oscars in the middle of the week, anyway? You sit in those chairs for hours on end, and then you have a late dinner at the after-party, and you’re up half the night… and then it’s right back to work the next morning!”

    “Sometimes you gotta live a little,” Lucille Ball said in response to her VP Production, Robert H. Justman. “I think it’s a lot of fun.”

    “You worked in the movies, Lucy,” Herbert F. Solow, SEVP and COO, gently reminded her. “You know these people. And you got to wear a nice dress, and walk the red carpet, and you even got up during the ceremony to present an award. Those chairs make you pretty stiff if you have to sit perfectly still in them for that long.”

    “I still don’t know why they had me make that crack about an Academy Award for Hairdressing, though. They really need better writers for these award ceremonies.”

    “The hoary jokes must be part of the alleged charm,” Justman groused.

    There was a knock at the door of Ball’s office, and without waiting for a response, in walked Gary Morton, EVP and CFO, and Husband to the Studio Chief (an unofficial title). “Who’s hungry?” he asked, carrying a rather large brown paper bag with foreign characters written all over it. “I brought Chinese!”

    Solow rolled his eyes. “Chinatown wins for Picture and you decide to buy us Chinese for lunch. You’re living proof of subliminal messaging, Gar.” However, he did not protest when Morton shoved some dishes into his hands. He had been so bloated from dinner last night that he had skipped breakfast – a decision he now sorely regretted.

    “That’s sweet of you, hon, and nice that you’re doing something marginally useful for once, but we do have a lovely commissary downstairs.”

    “Why not mix it up a little?” Morton said, in response to his wife, serenely ignoring her thinly-veiled insult.

    Later, after all the plates had been distributed and the four were digging into their meals (some more vociferously than others), Ball, her mind at work despite the companionate silence around her, spoke up. “You know that Desilu is going to be twenty-five years old this year? Twenty-five. That’s a quarter-century.” Arousing no substantive response from her three dining companions, she continued. “Desi and I started it up to sell my old radio show My Favorite Husband to CBS. Then Desi bought back the Lucy shows, and with the money from the reruns, we bought this studio space from RKO. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

    “And how is Desi?” Morton asked, diplomatically, though he could not quite conceal the frown that had reflexively formed.

    “Oh, he’s just fine,” Ball said, casually.

    “It’s all a lot to celebrate, Lucy,” said Solow, between mouthfuls of Chop Suey. “We’re doing better than ever. Better than most movie studios.” At this point, he couldn’t hide his grin, his eyes glancing out the window as he gestured to the studio next door. “Better than Paramount.”

    “Y’know, I was thinking. Maybe we could do a TV special about it. The history of Desilu, on its 25th Anniversary. Maybe use some kind of pun for the title, since it’s the silver anniversary. The silver studio run by the redhead. We can have that woman with the funny voice from the Today Show host it, too. She’s nuts about me.

    “It needs an adjective,” Justman chimed in. “Silver studio and just redhead? It needs something else.”

    Enterprising redhead, maybe?” Morton said.

    “No, that won’t work,” Justman immediately replied, rather more because of his distaste for Morton as opposed to the merit of his suggestion.

    “It really doesn’t matter what kind of redhead she is,” Solow said, firmly but gently. “Lucy, I really don’t think the networks would be interested in that. It’s something that has limited and strictly internal appeal, like the goodie reels. We could commission a short promo film, and then show it at the Christmas party, maybe.”

    “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

    They sat silently, once again, continuing to enjoy their lunch, until…

    “Wait a minute. You created Desilu for I Love Lucy, which started in 1951, which is twenty-five years ago next year. So why not have a 25th Anniversary Special for that?”

    Ball immediately beamed. “This is why you’re my secret weapon, Herbie,” she said. “I like it – we can have an hour-long retrospective, have all of the cast and crew talk about their favourite moments, maybe show clips, reconstruct the original living room set on one of our soundstages…”

    “It would have to air on CBS,” Justman said, ever the ballast to the high-flying ideas of his two immediate superiors. “And we need to contact the surviving stars.”

    “Oh, Desi would love to do it!”

    “I’m sure he would,” Morton sardonically replied. “But what about the others?”

    “Would Viv be up to it?” Solow asked, as delicately as possible. “Because I know she’s not been… feeling all that well…” [1]

    “Viv’ll be fine.”

    “What about the kid? Little Ricky?”

    “Keith? Desi stays in touch with him,” Ball replied. “I’d be more worried about him than Viv, actually. He’s had a lot of… personal problems. But Desi has a magic touch. He kept Bill Frawley off the bottle, I’m sure he can keep Keith away from the bong.”

    “And what about Bill Frawley? What are we going to do about him?”

    “We can all talk about him, I guess. Except for Viv. She hated him.” [2]

    The conversation abruptly ceased at that slightly awkward note, leading Solow to decide to break the silence. “Well then, how about I get started and make a few calls?” he suggested, already rising from his chair (as he had completed his plate of Chinese). “We’ve got a year to plan – I think we can work something out.”

    Justman, though he wasn’t quite finished with his lunch, sighed and rose from his chair as well. “I guess that means I have budgeting to do,” he said sullenly, and the two left without another word. Morton had already begun gathering their plates and the assorted servings of dishes together.

    “Well, I’ll go put the leftovers in the fridge, then,” he announced, before he too departed, leaving Ball alone to her own devices.

    “Twenty-five years,” she mused to herself, staring into space for a moment. Then she grinned, and began humming to herself.

    I’m just breezing along with the breeze…” [3]

    ---

    It was, as ever, a time of change for Desilu – but also a time for reflection. The studio celebrated its silver anniversary in 1975, making it young by Hollywood standards but old by those of television. The two oldest shows produced by Desilu – Mannix and Night Gallery – would both see their runs end at the conclusion of the 1974-75 season. Mannix, after a run of eight seasons, had become the longest-running dramatic series in studio history; Night Gallery, on the other hand, had worked well as a tonic to early 1970s optimism, but the macabre proved too suffocating in these much gloomier recessionary times, and ratings (never very good) had finally declined beyond repair. This, coupled with Rod Serling’s desire to move on, sealed its fate. In addition to Mannix, all four of their extant series (The Way of the Warrior, Rock Around the Clock, The Questor Tapes, and The Muppet Show) cleared the Top 30, which meant that Desilu was responsible for one-sixth of the programs on that roster, the highest representation of any studio.

    This season saw numerous breakout hits: not surprising, considering that it was the first full production season that followed the Oil Crisis and ensuing recession, allowing for pitches and story ideas to reflect the new situation in which society found itself (the previous season having been far more transitional in that regard). Many of these new shows, therefore, struck a chord with audiences. The biggest hit of the new season was Chico and the Man, which followed lead-in Sanford and Son. Both shows were set in urban Los Angeles, featuring elderly, working-class protagonists, and their younger, filial foils. Milton Berle capped his latter-day comeback (spurred by his 1968 appearance on an episode of Star Trek) by appearing as Ed Brown, the titular “Man” [4]; his alleged (illegitimate and unacknowledged) son, James Komack, had created the series. The begrudging paternal relationship that developed between its two central characters was widely considered an allegory of the one that emerged between Berle and Komack.

    The one-two punch of Sanford and the Man, Friday nights from 8:00 to 9:00 PM, led the ratings that season. Sanford, which had been #2 for the past two seasons, finally dethroned Those Were the Days and became the first top-rated series with a primarily African-American cast in television history. Chico, the new #2 (which obviously marked the highest debut for a season replete with impressive numbers for rookie shows), brought new representation for Latin-American actors unseen since the days of I Love Lucy. It was reflective of the increasing racial diversity affecting all levels of society at this time; worth noting was that both Sanford and Chico had multi-ethnic casts, as opposed to the monochromatic ones predominant during the Classical Age of Television. Indeed, NBC had been so bolstered by the diversity and popularity of their (and the) two top-rated shows that it gave them cover to cancel both Flip Wilson and Bill Cosby, whose stars continuously provided headaches for the network, despite bringing in decent ratings.

    The popularity of police procedurals continued into this season, with the success of Kojack inspiring a number of new hits. The Rockford Files was the biggest of these. Creator Stephen J. Cannell envisioned the program as a “modern-day Maverick”, a Western which had aired over a decade before. Its star, James Garner, was naturally chosen to play the protagonist, Jim Rockford; an ex-con private detective who nonetheless had a good heart, and did his best to avoid trouble. As had been the case on the big screen, obvious noir influences were percolating their way onto the tube. Other shows were somewhat more optimistic and morally resolute than Rockford, but without question, cop shows were the breakout genre of the season. Most were dramas, but one prominent example Captain Miller [5] – was a slice-of-life sitcom, which found the humour in the humdrum at a run-down urban precinct overburdened by the high crime rate for which New York City had become so famous. Critically acclaimed, and beloved by actual cops, who would consistently describe it as the show that best depicted the reality of police life, it was only a marginal performer in terms of ratings success. The same was also true of the already-running Police Story, another realistic (though more sensational, given its dramatic as opposed to comedic format) anthology series. But on the whole, most established police series, even those long in decline, saw their ratings recover as a result of the trend. The aged Mannix even re-entered the Top 30 in this, its final season.

    Although cop shows were in general the dominant genre of 1974-75, and Chico and the Man was the biggest new hit, the show with the most surprising impact on popular culture as a whole was Rhoda, spinoff of Mary Tyler Moore. As had been planned by Paramount (eager to cast off their anti-family reputation), the first season featured Rhoda, formerly dumpy and allegedly unappealing best friend of Mary Richards, meeting and engaging in a whirlwind romance with a handsome, divorced father of one. Their wedding – which happened midway through the season smashed ratings records, becoming the second-most watched entertainment broadcast of the 1970s to date, behind only the series finale of Star Trek in 1971. The season finale attempted to top this extravagant wedding (in which many Mary Tyler Moore characters crossed over by flying from their native Minneapolis to New York City, the setting of Rhoda) by revealing that Rhoda had become pregnant. [6] It was a vindication for Paramount, who also saw benefit from the reconciliation of Lou and Edie Grant on the parent series; this despite the fact that, by 1975, the birth rate had resumed its previous 1960s-era decline.

    The retro nostalgia trend continued to endure, with the popularity of Rock Around the Clock on a continuing upward climb: it became the first ABC series to reach the Top 10 since Marcus Welby in 1971-72, and the first Desilu series to do so since Star Trek in 1970-71. [7] By now, however, it was clear that retro nostalgia was not limited to rock-and-roll; Spencer’s Mountain had also cleared the Top 10 once again, as did another rookie show, Little House on the Prairie, based on the famous series of novels by Laura Ingalls Wilder. However, it was the success of Moonraker that had perhaps the most unexpected impact on television development during this period; as it proved that properties with science-fiction trappings had some enduring potential, even past the end of Moonshot Lunacy. It was also enough to coax network executives into thinking that maybe, just maybe, Star Trek was not the lightning in a bottle that everyone had thought. With that in mind, Glen A. Larson. after years of pitching, was finally commissioned by NBC (needing to replace Doctor Who, whose American run would come to an end in 1975) to create a pilot based on his Adama’s Ark idea.

    Tandem Productions was seeing continued success, though not without some warning signs. They had widened their production output to four series: Moving On Up, a spinoff of Those Were The Days featuring the Bunkers’ (former) neighbours, the enterprising African-American Jefferson family, became the new kid on the block; it premiered at #5 for the season, the third-highest slot for a rookie series behind Chico and Rhoda. [8] However, Those Were The Days had been dethroned as #1 show (to another Tandem Production, Sanford and Son), whereas Maude found itself perilously close to the bottom threshold of the Top 30. [9] It taught an important lesson: shows about the working-class or the self-made man would continue to attract audiences; shows about largely insufferable patricians, on the other hand, were falling fast. But the entire Tandem lineup (four shows altogether: Those Were the Days, Sanford and Son, Maude, and now Moving On Up) were ensconced within the Top 30, a claim that only Desilu and Paramount could even come close to matching (as both were perfect but for one Achilles heel – Night Gallery and The Odd Couple respectively).

    Those Were the Days
    completed its transition to largely character-based sitcom in this season. The Higgins family moved into the home vacated by the Jeffersons, with Richard accepting a teaching position at a local college. Meanwhile, Gloria (at the insistence of Penny Marshall) continued to work, accepting a promotion to head of the department at her store, making her the highest-ranking woman on staff (and consequently facing even more discrimination than she had before, as a lowly clerk). This meant that Archie and (primarily) Edith would constantly be watching Joey, adding a multigenerational parenting wrinkle to their interactions. However, the series would find themselves with an additional hurdle to climb in the coming season, with the institution of the Family Viewing Hour, the culmination of the attempts by media watchdogs to curb the “new freedom of the (small) screen”. Essentially, this would result in shows deemed unsuitable for “family audiences” being forbidden from airing between 8:00 and 9:00 PM, the first hour of primetime; in addition, the same restrictions were placed on the period from 7:00 to 8:00 PM (controlled by the affiliates, as opposed to the primary network feed). [10] Those Were the Days, which had long trumpeted itself as being suitable only for the mature audience, would therefore have to move from its comfortable 8:00 berth to 9:00 in the following season. Norman Lear was livid, and immediately filed suit to prevent such an occurrence, but his case was quickly dismissed.

    At the Emmy Awards that year, The Muppet Show surprisingly won Outstanding Variety Series, the first win for Desilu in one of the three major categories since Star Trek in 1971. Mary Tyler Moore repeated for Outstanding Comedy Series; Valerie Harper, duly promoted from Supporting Actress to Lead Actress, won yet another Emmy as Rhoda, for Rhoda; and Milton Berle won Lead Actor for Chico and the Man (in his acceptance speech, he remarked Well, my 30-year contract with NBC will be running out soon, but at least they're finally putting me to good use, referring to when the Peacock Network had infamously signed him to such a contract in 1951). Police Story won Outstanding Dramatic Series, with cooler-than-ice Telly Savalas repeating for Lead Actor for Kojack. By this time, his hit single (titled “Who Loves Ya, Baby?”, as if it could possibly be called anything else) had hit the airwaves, and he obligingly sang a few verses at his Emmy statuette in appreciation. [11]

    With regards to the networks, CBS and NBC were tied overall with twelve shows in the Top 30; CBS had five of the Top 10 to the four on NBC, but the Peacock Network had far more appealing demographics to compensate. ABC, meanwhile, continued to lag behind, with only six shows in the Top 30 (though with a Top 10 hit for the first time in three seasons, which was largely attributed to the magic touch of Desilu as opposed to any good judgement on the part of network executives). [12] They were in dire straits indeed, their overall situation continuing to deteriorate from years past (with only Rock Around the Clock keeping them viable). However, no one quite anticipated what their desperate, last-ditch effort to finally pull themselves out of their dismal third-place berth would entail: none other than Fred Silverman, the architect of the successful reinvention of CBS, was lured over to the Alphabet Network, as their new Head of Programming. Silverman always loved a good challenge: he had previously rejuvenated the already established #1 network, but now he had to bring the dead-last network all the way to the top, dethroning the long-reigning CBS while leapfrogging the fairly successful NBC in the process. His continuing penchant for radical revisions would quickly be in evidence…

    ---

    [1] Vivian Vance was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1973 IOTL, which eventually took her life in 1979 (after it had spread to her bones). However, she appears to have been fairly robust until suffering a stroke in 1977, the same year she and That Wacky Redhead made their final onscreen appearance together. Therefore, by this time ITTL, it is clear that Vance is fighting cancer, but is in good enough health and spirits to participate in a retrospective reunion special.

    [2] Upon learning of William Frawley's death in 1966, Vance is said to have announced
    Champagne for everyone!in celebration. By contrast, Desi Arnaz took out a full-page ad in the Hollywood Reporter, saying Buenas Noches, Amigo!”, meaning “Good night, friend!”, and served as pallbearer at his funeral; That Wacky Redhead issued a statement in which she described him as one of her dearest friends (he made his last television appearance shortly before his death in an episode of The Lucy Show).

    [3] That Wacky Redhead is singing the opening lyrics of a song featured in The Long, Long Trailer, a 1953 film starring herself and Arnaz as thinly-veiled Lucy and Ricky Ricardo rip-offs. It was very successful, more or less representing the height of their onscreen fame and success (in conjunction with I Love Lucy, which was, of course, still in production at the time). You can see their performance of it here, and witness her real singing voice (before the chain-smoking got to her, that is).

    [4] Cast as the
    “Man” IOTL was character actor Jack Albertson, who won an Oscar for The Subject Was Roses and is best-remembered (IOTL and ITTL) as Grandpa Joe from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Berle claimed (between the lines, as he never named names) that he was indeed approached IOTL for the part by Komack, but rebuffed him, only discovering their relationship later on, by which time Albertson had already been cast. Chosen as Chico IOTL (but not ITTL) was comedian Freddie Prinze, who sadly developed a drug problem and committed suicide at age 22, leaving behind his far less talented son, also named Freddie Prinze (Jr.)

    [5] Known IOTL as Barney Miller, which premiered mid-season. ITTL, the original pilot (The Life and Times of Captain Barney Miller) was picked up instead of burned off as part of a summer anthology series. Of the OTL cast, only Hal Linden (as Capt. Barney Miller), Jack Soo (as Det. Nick Yemana; Yamamoto ITTL), and the ageless, possibly immortal character actor Abe Vigoda (as Sgt. Fish; Fishman ITTL), who was until then best known as Tessio in The Godfather, appear in the series ITTL.

    [6] Rhoda did not become pregnant IOTL, nor did Lou and Edie reconcile; ITTL, these are palpable demonstrations of the more potent reactions against the singletons so prominent in Paramount shows (and note that Paramount is far more sensitive to viewer complaints, as opposed to the desires of creators, than MTM was IOTL).

    [7] The ratings for Happy Days, which were very good during its first season, were suppressed by some hot competition which, ITTL, does not exist: Good Times (co-created by Mike Evans, who does not play Lionel Jefferson ITTL, and thus never gets the chance to make his pitch to Norman Lear).

    [8] Moving On Up was, of course, known IOTL as The Jeffersons. In all, five of the Top 10 shows in the 1974-75 season ITTL had newly premiered: Chico and the Man, Rhoda, Moving On Up, The Rockford Files, and Little House on the Prairie. IOTL, there were only three: Chico at #3, The Jeffersons at #4, and Rhoda at #6.

    [9] IOTL, All In The Family remained at #1 for the fourth consecutive season (tying the record set by Gunsmoke), and Maude remained in the Top 10 at #9 overall.

    [10] The Family Viewing Hour was also implemented for the 1975-76 season IOTL, though it was done in such a way that the FCC technically exceeded their mandate in order to achieve it, which resulted in it being overturned in court two years later (Lear also filed a suit IOTL, which also went nowhere). ITTL, on the other hand, there is stronger, more cohesive political support for such regulations, due to a variety of reasons; this means that, absent legislation to overturn it (unlikely, as even many Democrats supported the restrictions), the Family Viewing Hour (analogous to the “watershed” found in many other countries) will remain in place for the foreseeable future.

    [11] IOTL, Upstairs, Downstairs (which, you will recall, is a comedy program called Behind the Green Baize Door ITTL) repeated for Drama Series; The Carol Burnett Show repeated for Variety Series; Tony Randall won Lead Actor, Comedy for The Odd Couple; and Robert Blake won Lead Actor, Drama for Baretta (butterflied away ITTL).

    [12] In the 1974-75 season IOTL, CBS aired nineteen of the Top 30 shows on television, including eight of the Top 10. NBC aired eight of the Top 30, though only two of these were in the Top 10. ABC aired a mere three shows in the Top 30, the highest-rated of which was midseason replacement S.W.A.T. at #16 overall (in other words, they failed to score a single show in the top half of the Top 30). And yes, they lured Silverman over to their camp IOTL, as well; they needed him even more so than ITTL.

    ---

    Bet you're all looking forward to the 1975-76 season now, aren
    t you? :cool:

    I hope that you all enjoyed the short narrative scene that opened this update. I thought it made for a nice change of pace, and gives you some insight into how I imagine the personalities and dynamics at Desilu. Please let me know what you thought of it, as there might be more where that came from if reader reaction is sufficiently receptive :)
     
    It's Time to Play the Music, It's Time to Light the Lights
  • It’s Time to Play the Music, It’s Time to Light the Lights

    Who would want to read a story about TV shows anyway?
    Hey! I read about TV shows all the time!
    Really?
    Yeah – in TV Guide!
    (laughter)

    Statler (performed by Jerry Nelson) and Waldorf (performed by Jim Henson), from The Muppet Show

    The Muppets were the brainchild of puppeteer Jim Henson, who had spent his entire adult life furthering the art through the medium of television; his career had started with Sam and Friends, a five-minute series airing on the local WRC-TV, an NBC affiliate in Washington, DC. It was there that he met his eventual wife, Jane, along with one of his key collaborators, Jerry Juhl (who had initially been a puppeteer himself, before realizing that his true calling was writing, thus emerging as the primary writer for the Muppets). However, as had proven the case with the field of animation, puppetry had seemingly been stereotyped as entertainment for children – which Henson had to face throughout his career. On the one hand, he had no objection to his Muppets being generally wholesome and appealing to a wide variety of people including children and families, but on the other, he resented being pigeonholed[FONT=&quot] which came [/FONT]to pass after he had agreed to participate in the development of the seminal educational program, Sesame Street.

    Henson first became involved with Desilu when he answered a call for the development of an unusual bear-like creature called a sehlat, for a fourth-season episode of Star Trek. The usual creature designer for the series, Janos Prohaska, was already being tasked to create a predatory beast, called a le-matya, that would attack and mortally wound the sehlat, named I-Chaya, in the climax of the episode. By this time, Henson’s reputation preceded him, and the producers of Star Trek hired him; writer D.C. Fontana instructed him to create a creature able to convey “affection, snuggle-ability, the fastest claws in the West, and a complete disregard for orders”, even showing him the model for the character, her housecat. [1] Using a variation on a full-body Muppet form similar to ones he had developed previously, with an extremely expressive face, Henson was able to bring life to the sehlat in ways that impressed not only Prohaska, but also the production team; particularly Executive in Charge of Production Herb Solow, who was later promoted to SEVP and COO of Desilu, a position that gave him final authority over the operation of his studio, excepting only a veto from his immediate superior, Lucille Ball.

    Desilu was one of many studios that Henson approached with the idea that he had carried with him for much of his career: a Muppet-oriented variety series. As he had feared, most of the other studios had rejected his pitch, unable to see him as anything more than an entertainer of the burgeoning mini-boomers. He even had an “in” with Solow, who admired his work ethic and creativity, but they quickly ran into problems with his boss. Ball was extremely reluctant to give Henson and his Muppets the variety show commitment that he so craved, because she thought so little of the format. One of her dearest friends, Carol Burnett, had declined her offer to appear in a Desilu-produced sitcom in order to star in a variety program of her own, The Carol Burnett Show, which had become very successful and critically-acclaimed. Henson explained the nature of his Muppets; the “variety show” would have to be pre-recorded, with no audience present, as the complicated puppetry involved would totally destroy suspension of belief on the part of any live observers – and there was an absolute need for the use of cinematography to frame the setting and create the needed atmosphere for the show. It would be as carefully structured and rehearsed as a sitcom, allowing for musical performances throughout – a structure that strongly resembled none other than I Love Lucy.

    Having cunningly convinced Ball that their Muppet show could be a success on her terms, she accepted the pitch to produce the pilot special. With decent ratings, good critical notices, and star power (in the person of Mia Farrow) behind the special, the network on which it aired (ABC) was convinced to give it a full-season pickup for 1974-75. [2] Among those involved with the continuing series were Henson and Juhl (Hensons wife Jane, who had worked with him in the past, had retired from active production work in order to raise their five [3] children), and Frank Oz, the performer with whom Henson enjoyed his most fruitful collaborations. Many of the other performers were brought over from Sesame Street, most notably Fran Brill [4], who became the only significant female performer on The Muppet Show, and accordingly provided most of the female roles for the series. Other prominent “Muppeteers” included Dave Goelz, Richard Hunt, and Jerry Nelson; Juhl headed the writing staff.

    The Muppet characters were treated as “real people” by all celebrity guest stars, and within the context of their own interactions. The central Muppet character was Kermit the Frog, a very early creation by Henson that dated back to his original series, Sam and Friends, in the 1950s (though he had not become recognizably frog-like until far more recently). [5] He was the producer of the variety show put on by the Muppets, and generally the straight man to all their antics; though, at the same time, he was far more serene and harmonious than most other straight men, often noting that, as crazy as everyone else seemed to be, he was surely worst of all (for he had hired all the others). But one of the breakout stars was the prima donna diva character, Miss Piggy. Played with an outrageously phony female timbre by Frank Oz, she was perhaps best known for her attempts at romance with Kermit, who seemed ambivalent at her attraction to him. Kermit and Piggy served to represent the program, hitting the talk-show circuit with gusto; Henson and Oz typically hid behind the couch or just off-camera as they performed. [6] Other characters included the Greek Chorus, Statler and Waldorf, a pair of heckling seniors perched in their balcony seats; an all-Muppet band, most of the members of whom were incomprehensible; social commentator Sam the Eagle, a stuffy parody of Media Watchdogs; and Kermits sidekick, Fozzie Bear; however, these were all among a veritable rainbow of Muppets participating in the show.

    The conceit of The Muppet Show was its depiction of a stage production being put on by the Muppet characters, as supervised by Kermit. Each episode would revolve around a single human guest star, and for the first season, most of these were those with connections to Desilu, as many actors were not eager to share the screen with puppets. [7] The conceit entailed the actors playing fictional “versions” of themselves, often to suit the over-arcing plot of the episode. One of the biggest highlights of the first season of episodes was an appearance by William Shatner. In what would eventually become known as a standard stock parody, most of the crew were subject to bizarre metamorphosis on the part of some bizarre stellar anomaly (enabling them to be played by the various Muppets), leaving only Captain Kirk unmolested, and bemused by the changes to his crew. [8] Other well-known guests in that first season included Martin Landau and Barbara Bain (jointly); Mike Connors of Mannix; and Micky “Mash” Dolenz, from Rock Around the Clock. (Rod Serling was offered the chance to host an episode, but declined due to his ill heath; he would die shortly thereafter). [9]

    It was the surprise success of the series in the ratings – and particularly with desirable demographics – and its popularity with critics – that assured its future. That said, it certainly didn’t hurt that Fred Silverman [10], the new Head of Programming for ABC, greatly appreciated variety shows that were popular with the younger, urban demographics he so cherished above all else; it was his aggressive promotion of The Muppet Show that allowed it to truly thrive, making it – against all odds – one of the biggest hits for Desilu in the late 1970s, two others of which would also air on ABC; one of those two, in fact, was the result of an affiliation arrangement engineered by Silverman to replace the pre-existing one that Desilu had in place with CBS (“he left and took Lucy with him”, an executive ruefully remarked upon hearing the news). Indeed, The Muppet Show would later be remembered as arguably the last of the great variety shows. Perhaps most bemused by all of this was Lucille Ball herself[FONT=&quot][/FONT]

    ---

    [1] Said housecat, named Bobby McGee, was credited as the inspiration behind I-Chaya (for the episode
    “Yesteryear”) IOTL, as well. We will assume, based on experience and common sense, that Henson has more talent and ability at realizing her description than the “animators” at Filmation did.

    [2] This, obviously, did not happen IOTL, as The Muppet Show was not picked up by any American studio or network; Lew Grade of ATV in the UK eventually did so, however.

    [3] They had only four children IOTL. Remember the Mini-Boom slogan:
    “Let's try for one more”.

    [4] Brill had minimal involvement with The Muppet Show IOTL
    – the filming taking place in Los Angeles as opposed to Merrie Old England changes this.

    [5] Though there is conflicting evidence regarding the subject, it is generally accepted that Kermit was considered a frog from the late-1960s; he was firmly, unambiguously established as such as of the 1971 special, which was, naturally, The Frog Prince.

    [6] For an example of how Henson and Oz handled interviews (IOTL and ITTL), this clip from Parkinson (a British talk show, as The Muppet Show was of course filmed there IOTL and was very popular from the outset) might prove illuminating. (The two performers were interviewed beforehand.)

    [7] The Muppet Show had the same problem IOTL, until Rudolf Nureyev (of all people) quite famously broke the ice (the fantastic ratings didn't hurt, either).

    [8] This is an extremely common format for Star Trek parodies, IOTL and ITTL. In addition to the aforementioned The Two Ronnies sketch, it also describes parodies by Kevin Pollak, Carol Burnett, and even the cast of Frasier. (ITTL, of course, there are also the
    “Captain Kirk interrupts” sketches.)

    [9] Serling died on June 28, 1975, IOTL. Since he has a more vigorous workload ITTL, he died several months earlier, prior to the end of the production season.

    [10] During his tenure at ABC IOTL, Silverman oversaw the development of such variety shows as Donny & Marie and, most notoriously, The Brady Bunch Hour.

    ---

    My apologies for the delay regarding this post! I hope you all enjoy this look at the Muppets ITTL. We may yet revisit them in the future.
     
    Viewers Like You
  • Viewers Like You

    PBS.png
    Logo of the Public Broadcasting Service, in use from 1971.

    We’re gonna turn it on,
    We’re gonna bring you the power!
    We’re gonna light up the dark of night like the brightest day,
    In a whole new way!

    We’re gonna turn it on,

    We’re gonna bring you the power!

    It’s coming down the lines, strong as it can be,

    Through the courtesy… of the Electric Company!

    The Electric Company!

    The Electric Company!


    Theme from The Electric Company [1]

    Public television has had a storied history in the United States, though it was not nearly as central or glamorous to the medium as was the case in virtually every other First-World country (nor, needless to say, in the Second World). Indeed, even the concept of a proper nationwide “network” of affiliated stations was a very long time in coming. In the meantime, a public network known by various monikers, but ultimately as National Educational Television, or NET, was established by a grant from the Ford Foundation (which would continue to be the primary benefactor of the network throughout its life) in 1952. Unlike most of the more lavishly-funded public broadcasters in other countries, NET placed minimal emphasis on entertaining its audience; it was strictly an educational network, accordingly becoming known as the “University of the Air”. And even though NET had launched while DuMont was still on the air, it began to covet fourth network status in the 1960s. But with rising ambitions came rising costs, those which the Ford Foundation began to balk at underwriting. In response, the federal government created the Corporation for Public Broadcasting in 1967. Though it, too, was a private non-profit corporation, it was funded entirely by Congressional appropriation, thus providing true public funding to public broadcasters for the first time.

    The Corporation for Public Broadcasting was dissatisfied with the bureaucratic situation at NET, whose affiliates were constantly in revolt against the network, and felt that it would be better to start from scratch. The Public Broadcasting Service, or PBS, would become a reality thanks to an infusion of funding by the federal government, which naturally viewed a robust public broadcaster with a mandate to entertain (as well as to educate and inform) as a natural extension of the Great Society policies prevalent at the time. Over $25 million was appropriated for its creation in 1969. [2] Many of the more popular and ambitious programs already airing on NET immediately migrated to PBS, and the precursor network was shut down entirely in 1970, with its affiliates re-branding under the PBS banner, with both sides, for the most part, enjoying a far more harmonious coexistence. It was their success in the television arena that empowered the Corporation for Public Broadcasting to create a sister network on a different medium: radio. National Public Radio, or NPR, would also begin transmitting in 1970, and it inherited from NET its primarily intellectual, analytical approach to programming.

    One of the survivors from NET was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, which had a history almost as long and convoluted as that of public television itself.
    The host, Mister Fred McFeely Rogers, didn’t plan on working in television. Though he was a firm believer in the value of education, he intended to pursue that discipline through the church ministry – he had received a degree in music composition in preparation for entering the seminary, but discovered television; he saw its potential as a tool for educating people, but he hated how it was being used. So he decided to get to work changing that. After working for a time at WNBC in New York City, in miscellaneous roles, he returned to his native Pittsburgh in 1954, joining the staff at the new NET station, WQED, and participating in one of its charter programs, The Childrens Corner. During his seven-year tenure, he developed along with the program’s host, Josie Carey many puppets and songs that he would carry with him for the rest of his career. The format and style of presentation so closely associated with Mr. Rogers, on the other hand, was developed during his time in Canada. From 1963 to 1966, he hosted Misterogers [sic] for the CBC. He appeared onscreen for the first time, cultivating his genial and deliberate speaking style for which he would become so well known; designers at the CBC who created many key concepts and sets that he would take back with him to the United States, including a “land of make-believe” distinct from the primary, “real” setting; their segregation was important to Mr. Rogers, due to his personal emphasis on trust and mutual respect. Though he would depart from Canada after three years, one of his friends and associates, Ernie Coombs, chose to remain behind and eventually developed his own children’s television series, in which he starred as Mr. Dressup. It was very similar in style and tone to the programs featuring Mr. Rogers; Coombs was not quite as patient and deliberate a speaker, but his show was still very simple and overall moved at a leisurely pace.

    It was upon returning to the United States, Pittsburgh, and WQED, that Mr. Rogers launched the final incarnation of his educational program, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, which carried over to PBS. Though it lacked the exuberance of many other children’s programs, there was an undeniable warmth and gentleness to it, and indeed, it was often contrasted with another late-NET stablemate, one that would achieve greater notoriety and saturation than perhaps any other program aired on PBS. For Sesame Street was many things that Mr. Rogers was not, and would never be. For one, it was created, developed, and produced by the Children’s Television Workshop, or CTW, a (not-for-profit) corporation, as opposed to most other NET/PBS programming, which was produced directly by one or more network affiliates. CTW was headed by Joan Ganz Cooney, and it was she who was the primary creative force behind Sesame Street. It would be a series loaded with artifice, including the creation of a fantastic setting (the notion of a clean, happy, crime-free street in inner-city New York was very much considered such at the time), and mostly non-human characters. Though Sesame Street was more lavish in many ways, it lacked the quiet ambition of Mr. Rogers in that it chose not to focus as directly on the moral lessons and social responsibility that he advocated, instead sticking to concrete pre-school level education: letters of the alphabet, numbers, and geometric shapes all became mainstays of the show’s curriculum. Naturally, given that most episodes featured a great deal of character interaction, there was some emphasis on how children could relate to the world around them. Although human characters were featured, from very early on, the stars of the show were Jim Henson’s Muppets. Cooney had specifically sought out Henson to contribute to Sesame Street, and though he admired its ideals, he was very reluctant to commit, presciently sensing that he would become pigeonholed as a children’s entertainer. Nevertheless, he agreed, and with his team created many Muppets who would become household names: Big Bird, Bert, Ernie, Grover, Cookie Monster, and Oscar the Grouch among them.

    It was the smash success of Sesame Street with kids, parents, critics, and educators alike that convinced CTW to attempt a show that appealed to slightly older, early school-aged audiences (inevitably marketed as “graduates” of Sesame Street). Obviously, literacy would be the primary adjective of any such program, which was a more holistic endeavour than the more piecemeal, arbitrary lessons taught on Sesame Street, but also, without question, a far more rewarding one. As on Sesame Street, lessons were taught primarily through sketches – though these were more sophisticated, and consequently became popular with older audiences, who appreciated the irreverent and clever writing that refused to condescend to its audience (in contrast to Sesame Street, which sometimes erred on the side of caution in that respect). The Electric Company had an entirely human cast, with Muppets making only perfunctory cameos and rare guest appearances. Heading the roster was the Oscar-winning actress, Rita Moreno, who would also win a Grammy for her role in the series in 1972. Other prominent performers included Skip Hinnant (ironically, also the voice of the X-rated Fritz the Cat), and Broadway actor Morgan Freeman, who quickly became a standout performer on the series due to his stage presence and his resonant voice. Moreno, however, was the only known quantity to appear on The Electric Company. She had been warned away from appearing by her agent, who had informed her that everyone would think her out of work; but she took part anyway, describing it as “doing everything that is great and noble and fine”. Her familiarity with CTW came about due to watching Sesame Street with her own children [3], and was happy to take an active role in continuing their learning through educational television (as she would describe her daughter as a reluctant reader).

    CTW had hoped to recruit Bill Cosby, another established figure, into the cast; Cosby was known for his advocacy of education, and indeed was pursuing a doctorate in that field; he heartily supported the ideals of The Electric Company, but could not join the repertory due to the continuing run of The Bill Cosby Show, which filmed in Hollywood (as opposed to The Electric Company, which, like Sesame Street, filmed in Manhattan). [4] Cosby compensated through the creation of his own (animated) educational series: Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, along with deciding to promote educational and family values more heavily on The Bill Cosby Show: his character, Chet Kincaid, was shown to be balancing graduate school with his PE teacher job; upon his graduation, he sought and won the position of Principal. At the same time, he married his girlfriend and had two children, and many episodes focused on his attempts to educate them (and they were prematurely aged in order to accomplish this). [5]

    Though PBS had a mandate to educate the public, the term “education” was sufficiently broad so as to encompass programming far beyond children’s television. One of the network’s most unexpectedly popular series, launched in 1975, was a film review program produced by WTTW in Chicago, hosted by two local film critics (each of whom worked for rival papers): Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times, and Gene Siskel of the Chicago Tribune. It originally aired under the clunky title Coming Soon to a Theater Near You! With Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel (the order of the two being determined by a coin toss [6]), though this eventually changed to Coming Attractions. [7] The pair quickly became nationally famous for their passionate opinions on the many films they reviewed, and their combustive antagonistic chemistry; not a single episode went by without the two getting into an argument about one of their chosen movies. Their contrasts in appearance – Ebert was short and fat, Siskel tall and thin – perfectly accentuated their seemingly diametrically opposed personalities. Without question, their trademark was their method of reviewing films: they took a yea-or-nay tack to them, with no middle ground, though they would usually qualify their absolute verdicts within the “body” of their reviews. [8] This contrasted with many reviewers, who preferred a star system.

    On the whole, however, and despite their reputation for quality, PBS did not have the depth of financing or the capital infrastructure to produce programming at nearly the same rate as the major commercial networks, forcing them to lean on imports to fill gaps in their schedule. As the second-largest English-language media market, the United Kingdom seemed a natural source for new shows, especially since it (like most other countries) was utterly dominated by public broadcasters. Consequently, the vast majority of British imports were produced by the BBC, as opposed to the privately-owned and operated ITV. This trend of British imports actually began under NET, but it was cemented by PBS, particularly under their Masterpiece Theatre (note the British spelling) marque. Developed by the WGBH affiliate in Boston, the idea was to import period dramas, usually limited-run, and have them all run as part of this singular anthology series, which therefore would come to be known for its highbrow and quality programming. One such offering, Elizabeth R would win the Emmy Award for Outstanding Dramatic Series in 1972, under the Masterpiece Theatre name. [9]

    In addition to staid period dramas, no small number of British comedy series, seemingly the more anarchic the better, were also imported. Perhaps the most surprising British import to become popular with American audiences was Monty Python’s Flying Circus, a particularly eccentric and surreal comedy series, apparently far more “European” in style than “American”. It began airing on PBS in 1972, as the run of the program in the UK was coming to an end. [10] Why the show caught on with American viewers has always been a subject of some debate: the irreverence was widely believed to appeal to the lingering counter-culture, as part of their enduring embrace of Dadaist attitudes. Additionally, the occasional appearances by Connie Booth, wife of Python John Cleese, who was already known in America as Doctor Who companion Linda Johnson (and had become something of a sex symbol in that role), is believed to have attracted significant attention from young male viewers, always the most desirable demographic. But whatever the motivation, the end result was still the same: American fans, some of whom were in very high places, would support the big-screen Monty Python film[FONT=&quot]
    [/FONT]
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    [1] The now-iconic exclamation “HEY YOU GUYS!!!” was not added until the second season, IOTL, as it originated in a first-season sketch.

    [2] IOTL, President Nixon wanted to cut the planned funding in half, from $20 million down to under $10 million; it was only the impassioned testimony of Mister Fred Rogers that prevented this occurrence, swaying over even the reticent Sen. John Pastore, who chaired the committee; funding was set at $22 million as a result.

    [3] Moreno had only one child, daughter Fernanda, IOTL. The Mini-Boom (which obviously makes early childhood education even more critical ITTL) changes that.

    [4] IOTL, of course, The Bill Cosby Show had gone off the air in 1971, and Cosby was thus free to move to New York City, remaining on The Electric Company for its first two seasons. His tenure on The Electric Company was counted as credit toward his doctorate in education, along with his work on Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids. ITTL, he has only his Fat Albert extra credits, so that, coupled with his full-time sitcom job, means that he takes slightly longer to earn his Ed.D., received in 1976 IOTL.

    [5] Cosbys character had two children on his sitcom: an older daughter born in the third season (1971-72) and a younger son born in the fourth (1972-73). The daughter was artificially aged twice: once to preschool age for the fourth season (to stand out from her newly-born younger brother), and then again in the fifth, to early grade-school age. Her younger brother was aged up in the fifth season as well, to preschool age. This naturally created two children ready-made for The Electric Company and Sesame Street respectively (both of which were, naturally, frequently mentioned on the show, just one more thing that did not endear him to NBC executives). Also, the artificial passage of time allows him to portray the lengthy process of post-graduate education, and a stable, long-term marriage.

    [6] The coin toss, naturally, went the other way IOTL, though I did choose to replicate the original decision-making process. For the record: Ebert going first was “heads”.

    [7] The title was changed IOTL to Sneak Previews, which it would remain until the two left public television for syndication in 1982.

    [8] The famous “thumbs” were not introduced until 1981, IOTL, and not used consistently until 1986.

    [9] The Six Wives of Henry VIII, the predecessor series to Elizabeth R, was previously aired as part of Masterpiece Theatre (though it won no Emmys).

    [10] In the timeslot that, IOTL, went to Doctor Who (here airing on NBC) instead. Python would not arrive stateside until 1974 IOTL.

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    First things first: thank you all for 125,000 views! :D

    And now, at long last, a look at public television in the United States, during its glory days! Again, here we
    re looking at a relatively broad overview, along with the various changes from OTL, big and small. I do intend to revisit many of these programs in the future, so its good that we know about them now. Well also take a look at how the falling popularity of Great Society and notions of “Big Government” affect public broadcasting, which is always one of the easy targets of such opposition. (You will note the glaring absence of an aspect of PBS operations that is frequently associated with that network – one that leads station WNED in Buffalo to identify on-air as serving Buffalo and Toronto or, more perfunctorily, Western New York and Southern Ontario because they get more than half of their pledge revenues from across the border). The space program had its salad days; so too does public television. But whats most fun about this update is that it should prove nostalgic to a wide range of my (North American) readers :)


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