Author: Jodie Peeler

Project update

A couple weeks back, the search through Newspapers.com came to its end. Now it’s time for me to sift through those thousands of clippings, get the good stuff out of them, and organize everything. That goes not only for the newspaper clippings, but also for magazine articles I’ve found, paper documents I have from the Garroway family, the hundreds of images I have of documents from the NBC papers at Wisconsin, passages from books, and so many other things. And then there’s the audiovisual evidence – kinescopes, several interviews from the Archive of American Television that I have yet to go through thoroughly, and a couple of lengthy audio interviews with Garroway that I’ve happened across.

All of this may sound daunting, and it is a big task. But it’s helped by knowing that a good many of those clippings, I saved because of only one or two sentences. A good many of them are brief mentions, for instance in an Earl Wilson column or some such. Others are alternate versions of the same wire service story, which I clipped just to be thorough. It’s easy to open a hundred documents at a time in my preview program, transcribe what I need and create a brief citation (which I will finish out later), and then move ahead. The work goes much faster than you may imagine, and it’s splendid busy-work.1

Years ago I developed a system for handling these kinds of huge projects, and it’s much like how, in the days before computers, an author might write individual facts or ideas on index cards, then sort that stack of cards into whatever sequence was appropriate, and then write the manuscript. In my case, I am transcribing the relevant items from each article, in chronological order, into a master document. Once that’s done, I will cut-and-paste those items into the order that seems appropriate for the story I have to tell. Then writing the finished manuscript just becomes transforming those facts and ideas into readable prose. It’s a method that served me well 19 years ago when I was working on my dissertation; once I had everything in the sequence I wanted, it only took me about two days to complete the first draft of my dissertation.2

As I write this in the wee hours of a Monday morning, this master document stands at 123,710 words. By the end of today, it’ll likely have grown to more than 130,000. I haven’t even gotten into the Today years, so this thing’s going to be a monster, maybe even 400,000 words when I’m done transcribing. A whole lot of it will get cut down, because there’s a lot of fluff in there, I know, and the finished manuscript will likely be in the 100,000-word range. But it’s always best to have too much material, instead of having to stretch out too little. As a friend said the other day, first you create the block of marble, then you pare it down to David. (And in my case, that’s certainly apt.)

One more thing that helps any author is a good research assistant. And that, I most certainly have.

This is Gilda3, my faithful helper4. She’s very good at making sure none of my papers go anywhere – that is, when she and her big brother aren’t getting into mischief.5

With help this good, there’s no way I can fail.

Get lost!

After the past few months, curbing how much we go out or canceling travel plans or doing whatever we need to do to stay safe, I think all of us have a pretty pronounced case of cabin fever. I know it’s bitten me pretty hard of late. It hasn’t been helped any when I look back on the calendar and remember it was three years ago this week I went to the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention for the first time. It gets even worse when I remember it was two years ago this week I was there, gave a presentation with my friend Kevin Doherty, met up with some great people I’d befriended the year before (Mitchell, Judie, Carol…I’m looking at y’all). And along the way, what started out as a fairly straightforward trip to Maryland for a conference got altered by a hurricane, and I ended up having the most unexpectedly amazing adventure, beyond anything I could have set out to do.

So with all that going on, and all those memories, it’s awfully tempting to throw my cares to the winds, throw a few things in a bag, get in the car and head for the mountains or something. But that’s not yet a good idea. The day will come when it will be safe to do so again, and it will be Good indeed. But instead, I’ve stayed here, done my work, and I’ve begun the long (but, thankfully, swiftly-moving6) process of taking all those newspaper clippings and extracting the vital information from them. All to bring you, the reader, the most thorough treatment of Dave Garroway’s life and times that I can. Because I care.

And it happens that one item I’ve recently written about in the draft has something to do with throwing cares to the winds, loading up the vehicle and heading out. Only, in Dave’s case, more so.

After he left Today, Dave set out to be the best dad he could be, and he was especially fond of spending time with his youngest child, Dave Jr. In 1965, Garroway told a reporter about something that his son called “Get Lost.” The elder Garroway owned a Chevrolet Greenbrier van, which he enjoyed because the utilitarian vehicle gave him some anonymity, and it also doubled as a handy camper van.7 And sometimes they took advantage of that latter function. The two Daves would load the Greenbrier with a supply of food and other necessities, sometimes pack a Questar telescope, and then get in. Dad would give Junior a map and tell him to get them “as thoroughly lost as possible.” And fun would ensue. “In ten minutes, we really are lost,” Garroway told the reporter.

Dave and Dave Jr. in 1966

Sometimes Dave Jr. would find a road that looked interesting and direct his dad to follow it. Other times, he’d tell his dad to follow a truck or go down a random road. Sometimes Dave Jr. would be so thorough that they couldn’t figure out how to get out; they’d have to backtrack. Decades later, Dave Jr. remembered how they would often end out spending the night out in the countryside, eating soup from cans and looking at stars through the Questar. Sometimes, if it got really late and they couldn’t find a place that looked like a good camping spot, they might check into a motel.

The getaways provided valuable father-son bonding time. And for Garroway, it provided something else. “We spend the weekend in complete anonymity. People go right by your face without recognizing you when you are in a situation that is unexpected.”

Here’s to the day – and let’s hope it’s soon – when we, too, can have getaways of our own, and build new memories. (Just try to remember how to get out of where you end up.)

The search is over

On any project there are milestones. Sometimes you meet them and you feel unalloyed relief. But other times you feel a twinge of sadness alongside relief. Yesterday had one such moment for me.

For the last three years I have slowly made my way through the Newspapers database, compiling thousands of newspaper clippings through the years of Dave Garroway’s life. And it was yesterday that my search carried me through the year 1982, when Dave’s life ended.

Memorial ad from the July 27, 1982 Hartford Courant.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a chore, tedious at times. Although I do have to say it’s nowhere near the chore that going through newspapers was in earlier times. Until not that long ago, going through newspapers meant spending days on end at libraries spooling through countless microfilm reels, with no real search assistance for most newspapers. You had to know what to look for and where to find it. It took forever. My master’s thesis involved a lot of crawling through microfilm, and even though it was a single newspaper over a period of three months, it was a chore. Which makes me thankful for Newspapers.com and how a single search string can return thousands of matches from hundreds of newspapers in an instant.8

Within seconds, a search string pulls up 21,000 results from the year 1953, from dozens of papers around the nation (and in some instances, other countries). Can you imagine the work this would have been in the microfilm era? Sigh.

Be that as it may, it adds up in a hurry. The pile of clippings from the 1950s alone is overwhelming. What’s worse is that every time I have saved a clipping, I have logged it on notebook paper, and that log fills a binder. 9 I have conducted the search in my home, my work office, in countless hotel rooms during my travels the last three years.10 At times it’s been a chore that never seemed to end; in other times it’s been a welcome distraction from whatever was troubling me. And now it’s done, mostly.

There’s still the years after Dave’s death to look through, and I am making my way through those. But as the years pass, the mentions become fewer. You also see mentions of his name when his colleagues and contemporaries pass away. In time, his name fades, brought up only in mentions of anniversaries of Today‘s debut. You do get a feeling of a story ending and fading.

Going through all these articles has given me a great sense of the arc of Dave’s life, and I feel I understand him that much better. It’s closed some open questions, put time stamps on moments that seemed to float in history, and knocked down a myth or two along the way. But it’s also had moments of sadness, as he goes from rising-star DJ of the 1940s to white-hot television icon of the early ’50s to serious presence of the late ’50s…and then his world falls apart, and he vanishes. Oh, he pops up every so often with a new gig, but those don’t take root for whatever reason. Every so often someone interviews him, and his views on television become less hopeful with every interview in each successive year. And then it’s over in a moment, and with each year that passes since, it seems he becomes more a trivia answer than anything else.

I can’t rest too long, because now it’s time for me to take those 3,000-plus clippings and put them to work, and that’s going to be a chore in itself. I can’t say I’ll miss the hours of clipping and logging. But I will miss watching Dave’s story unfold, and I’ll also miss the little discoveries I made along the way.

A lengthy chapter has closed. But many more remain to be written. Let’s do that now.

Kukla, Dave and Ollie

I’d imagine we are all feeling spent in too many ways to count, with so much going on that’s been terrible or that otherwise has just left a sense of gloom around. I certainly am, and that’s in part why there was no post last week. So this week I thought we could do with a little whimsy, courtesy of some friends who always cheer me up.

Burr Tillstrom and Oliver J. Dragon with our Dave. (NBC photo)

I’ve written on here before about Kukla, Ollie and the Kuklapolitan Players, their friend Fran Allison, and the gentle world created by Burr Tillstrom. And since Kukla, Fran and Ollie originated from NBC in Chicago, it meant they were never far from some people we consider dear, including Studs Terkel, Hugh Downs11 and our own Dave Garroway. Our Dave sometimes dropped in to visit the Kuklapolitan Players, and fun ensued.

But what prompts this post – aside from the need we all have for a little whimsy – is the happy news that the Burr Tillstrom Copyright Trust is uploading the surviving episodes of KF&O to a YouTube channel, one episode per day. Having fallen in love with the show thanks to the DVDs released a few years ago, this was terrific news. But what makes it even more fun is that our Dave is in a few of these episodes. Here, for instance, he narrates and referees a boxing match between Cecil Bill and Fletcher Rabbit.

Then, in an episode no doubt dear to Dave’s heart, he gets to teach the Kuklapolitans a little about astronomy.

There’s lots of fun on the Kukla, Fran and Ollie channel, so go check it out. And if you’ve never watched the show before, give it an episode or two. Chances are it’ll put a spell on you.12

A priceless response to a miracle

As we’ve gone through this present health crisis, historian that I am at heart, I’ve often thought about various scourges from the past and the effects they had on people in those days. One in particular has come to mind on several occasions, and for as much as I may have overdosed on back issues of Life magazine and started having idle daydreams about life in the 1940s and 1950s, all it takes is the mention of one particular affliction to make me come back to the present. And it’s that terrifying affliction13, and the miracle that helped end its reign of terror, that figures into a story Dave Garroway never tired of telling on television programs or sharing in interviews – because it was a story that drove home just how meaningful a miracle it was.

One evening in the 1960s14 Dave was getting ready to go to a testimonial dinner for Dr. Jonas Salk. Young Dave Jr.15 asked his dad where he was going.

“To a dinner for Dr. Salk,” Garroway replied.

“Who’s Dr. Salk?” Dave Jr. asked.

“He’s the man who found the vaccine for polio.”

“What’s polio?”
—
May the day come, and may it be soon, when children will ask the same about our current scourge – and so many other health afflictions we have yet to conquer.16

Why we do this

As will happen when you’re an author, I’ve been asked what my next book will be about. “Oh, about 300 pages, give or take” is a tempting response, but that’s not a terribly social thing to say. Instead I reply with a certain degree of pride, “It’s about Dave Garroway.” That gets me one of two responses. One – typically from people past a certain age – will be a gleam of recognition, followed by memories of how that person loved to watch Dave back in the day.17 The other typical response is a polite version of “…who?” And that prompts my short answer, that he was the first host of Today, and that usually satisfies the person asking the question even if it reduces Dave to one role.18

Then there are the other types of responses. Sometimes they’re fun responses. There are the inevitable wags who will make jokes about J. Fred Muggs, as if Dave’s life can be reduced to those three or so years. Then there are the people who focus on Dave’s bad habits, on the tantrums he was reputed to have thrown off-camera, on the tales of drug use (and the type and amount of drugs will vary, depending on which rumors are being repeated).19 And, of course, there are those who will focus on the way he died and suggest there were bats in his belfry all along.20

It all gets wearying after a while. I’ve been digging into Dave Garroway’s life for more than four years now. I’ve read everything I can get my hands on. I’ve had lengthy conversations with his children, talked to people who worked with him and to people whose parents worked with him. I’ve read through his FBI file. I’ve traveled hundreds of miles to dig through box after box of archival material. I’ve scoured a half-century of newspaper archives and read through thousands of articles. Whatever I’ve been able to find, I’ve read. And something in the back of my mind, somehow, keeps waiting to find that big dark secret that’s going to ruin him forever. I keep thinking of the story that David McCullough told of wanting to write a book about Picasso, only to get a hundred pages in and realizing that even though Picasso was of monumental importance as an artist, he couldn’t stand Picasso as a person, so he decided to write about someone he found likable, and that’s how his Pulitzer-winning biography of Harry Truman came to be.

I’ve often wondered when my Picasso moment was coming with Dave Garroway. So far, it hasn’t. Instead, the more I read about him, the more I process what I’ve learned about him, the more I like him. The more I understand him. Yes, there are times he did things I wish he hadn’t. I wish I could go back in time and tell him to ignore the advice of that dentist at that card game, that Dexedrine was going to do horrible things to his mind and lasting damage to his body. I wish we knew then what we know now about how to treat chronic depression. I wish I could tell him to not sign away five years of his career when he left NBC in 1961. And, of course, I wish I could have kept him from doing what he did that day in July 1982.

But I can’t. All I can do is tell the story of his 69 years the best and most honest way I can. Which, for me, is not going to be that hard to do. I haven’t uncovered any deep or dark secrets. Eccentricities? A lot of those, but harmless. But I haven’t uncovered a life of dirty deeds, of sociopathy, of crime or vice. I haven’t unveiled anything that’s really uncommon for anyone of his times.21 Instead, I’ve discovered the life of a man who was little different from the rest of us, only he led his life in the public eye, and from that came benefits and disadvantages that were magnified because of his fame. But, viewed in scale, how different was he from the rest of us who live in privacy?

Carol Ford is someone I have become blessed to know.22 Years ago she took on a most formidable task: writing a biography of Bob Crane. That word “formidable” is because Bob Crane is known as much for certain aspects of his private life, and the circumstances of his murder, as he is remembered for Hogan’s Heroes. It wasn’t helped by a rather scurrilous major motion picture that took great liberties with the historical record. It was a task I wouldn’t dare to take on. Where would I begin, and how far up the wall would the inevitable jokes and comebacks and unkind comments drive me?

But Carol and her co-authors, made of stronger stuff than I, set out to correct that record. They talked with everyone they could locate, including people who knew Bob Crane really well. They did the hard work and research. And out of it came a truly massive volume23 that will tell you everything you want to know about the real Bob Crane. Not the Bob Crane that you think you know, not the Bob Crane from the sick jokes, not the Bob Crane from that hit-job of a movie, but the real and complicated and human Bob Crane who actually existed. Not just the Hogan’s Heroes Bob Crane, but the up-and-coming DJ, the white-hot star of KNX Radio, the sensation of a top-rated television comedy, and then Crane’s efforts after Hogan’s Heroes ended. It doesn’t shy away from the difficult topics about his life, but it discusses them in a context that’s missing from other accounts, and debunks a lot of tall tales that have spread about Crane’s life.24 It treats Crane’s life in scale, and you learn a lot about him that you didn’t know before, because no one before had cared to tell those stories because they wanted to talk too much about sex, videotapes and murder. You never knew so much about Bob Crane being a terrific drummer or a world-class disk jockey with a quick wit and an uncanny sense of timing, or a man who was genuinely loved and is still fondly remembered by his friends and colleagues.25

Carol continues to be Bob Crane’s foremost advocate, and makes appearances in the media and at conventions and in other forums to promote the book and speak on Bob’s behalf.26 It hasn’t been the easiest task, and I know for a fact she’s tired of hearing questions about that movie, that she’d be happy if no one ever brought up Crane’s murder or those videotapes or any of that ever again. But I know why she does this. It’s because she feels a duty to tell the story of Bob Crane with honesty and dignity, to rescue him from the jokes and the caricatures and to help people remember that Bob Crane was a human being with a full and complicated life much like the rest of us. And in this, she has succeeded.27 Her incredibly detailed book restores Crane’s humanity, shows his flaws in scale and restores focus to the many good things about him. After reading it, you don’t look at his famous squinting smile as the leer of a wolf, but as the grin of a man who couldn’t conceal a quick wit. Bob Crane is fortunate to have Carol Ford and her associates as his biographers; they have told his story in a thorough manner, and they are tireless champions of his legacy, a story that is so often not told because one aspect of his life drowns out everything else.

And in a wider sense, that’s why what we do matters. Bob Crane can’t be reduced to punchlines about videotaped sex and a gruesome murder. Nor can Dave Garroway be reduced to a caricature about drug addiction and co-starring with a chimpanzee and committing suicide. Were all of those aspects of his story? Yes, they were. But that’s not all, and the real story, in scale, tells us a lot more. Here is a man who lived and breathed and loved and lost, just as all of us have. And with the help of a lot of good people, I’m going to tell you his story, and I think you’ll learn some things and appreciate what he did.

That’s why it matters. It’s because if there aren’t people doing this kind of work, a lot of history is going to get lost. And yes, there are times when it seems it’s a lonely, thankless job. I’m under no illusions that Dave Garroway is very much a niche subject. I don’t foresee long lines stretching around corners on the day this book is released. I don’t see getting interviewed on the morning shows about him. Any audiobook version will probably be you hiring me to come to your house and read it out loud in your living room.28 But I am committed to telling you the Garroway story because I want to cut through a lot of the old tales and urban legends, because I’ve found the real story to be a lot more fascinating than anything you’ve read before. Because the more I go into his story, the more I find it’s worth telling. And even if I only sell ten copies of the book (and even if those copies are sold to kin folks who purchase them out of pity), this whole exercise will have been worth it. I’ll know that I helped keep the Garroway story from vanishing down the memory hole.

That’s why we do this. We do this because we care. We do this because, somehow, these stories have meaning to us. The more we come to know the people we write about, they start to matter to us the way friends or family might. Not in the sense that we defend their every action or excuse their misdeeds – that’s fandom gone awry. But, rather, in the sense that we care about making sure they are represented with truth and accuracy, but also with dignity and fairness, just the same as we hope our own stories will be told when we’re gone.

If I can do that much for Dave Garroway, it really won’t matter how many copies of the book I sell, or if it only gathers dust on library shelves. The man’s story is worth the telling, and worth the remembering. And that’s why I’m happy to do it.

Neither here Norden there

Throughout his life Dave Garroway was fascinated by just about everything. His hobbies were many, and he tinkered with everything from old cars to telescopes to gem cutting and watchmaking. And as will happen with those of us who are fascinated by what the world has to offer, he was also a collector of odds and ends that represented his fascinations.29

One of his prized items was a Norden bombsight. In many a profile article that mentioned his collection of treasures the Norden would often get a mention. What fascinated Garroway was probably not its military implications, but its mechanical intricacy and precision – plus, as a fine optical device, it had a neat junction with his love of telescopes and similar optical items.

So it was inevitable, I guess, that Garroway would spark some level of demand for the Norden, as evidenced by this clipping from a question-and-answer column in the Feb. 29, 1972 New York Daily News.

Contrary to what the Air Force spokesman told the Daily News, a multitude of Nordens survived the war and eventually found their way into civilian hands after they were declared surplus. Some went to museums, some went into restored or displayed aircraft, and some ended up in the hands of collectors. They turn up for sale every now and then, and there are even a few folks who can restore better-preserved examples to functioning condition.

(Although it’s very likely that mother from 1972 was relieved to get that answer from the Air Force. Can you imagine the havoc a youngster could wreak with a Norden bombsight?)

Happy birthday, dear Dave

It’s Dave Garroway’s birthday today – and it’s also our birthday. This website’s, that is. Three years ago today this website officially signed on. What a journey it’s been – and what a journey it continues to be. We’ve made a lot of friends, come to know members of the Garroway family, talked to people who worked with him or whose family members worked with him, discovered new material, given a presentation or two…a lot has happened. All of it has been worth it.

Three years into this project the manuscript is growing slowly but steadily. Much of that has been because so much time is being spent on finding new material, trawling the newspaper archives and conducting interviews in between the other chores we have to do in life. Not to mention that the current conditions have forced the postponement of a couple of research trips. But all of that is to come, and if I’ve learned anything as a researcher and author, it’s that the disappointment of a delay is often offset by discoveries you wouldn’t have made if your original schedule had held.

On this, our third birthday, we thank all of you who have been reading, who have written us, who have contributed items to the project. Thank you not only for your kindnesses to us, but also for helping make sure Dave Garroway lives on.

Happy birthday, Old Tiger.

:: Hugh Downs passed away just after I prepared last week’s post and I didn’t get a chance to acknowledge him then. I plan to write a longer tribute later, since he and Dave Garroway knew one another as far back as their days in Chicago. In the meantime, here is a lovely tribute, and I hope it will suffice until I’m able to write a tribute of my own. Suffice to say, we have lost one of the most versatile broadcasters the medium has ever known.

Late Night with Dave Garroway (Part 2)

When we left off, Dave Garroway had filled in on ABC’s Nightlife, one of a series of substitutes for Les Crane. Garroway had been a hit with the critics, who praised the wit and intelligence he brought to a show that had been known more for bombast and controversy, and urged ABC to make more permanent arrangements for Garroway on Nightlife.

ABC listened…to a point. In June ABC made an announcement about the future of Nightlife. Les Crane would get a four-week shot as host. Joining him in supporting roles would be comedian Nipsey Russell…and Dave Garroway, who would get a nightly feature in which he could talk about whatever was on his mind. “Garroway’s unique slant on life and his marvelous talent for spotting the unusually un-noticed wonders around us have been sorely missed in television,” producer Dwight Hemion said. It would mean a regular gig for Garroway, but to some it was still a disappointment. “I wish they’d give him the entire show,” columnist Dorothy Stanich wrote.

Dave Garroway, Les Crane and Nipsey Russell on ABC’s Nightlife. (ABC photo)

When Crane’s Nightlife came back, his supporting cast seemed to draw more favorable attention than Crane himself. Kay Gardella said Crane was fortunate to have the talents of Russell and Garroway “to boost him in his undeveloped areas – comedy and knowledge. Garroway’s concern over the tilting Empire State Building gave the program just the right slant.30 Now all he and Nipsey have to do is make certain Crane stays upright until he’s back in the ABC saddle for good.” Nadine Subotnik believed neither Russell, “a good comedian and an intelligent gentleman,” and Garroway, “a long-time easy talker,” were being used too wisely. “Crane still doesn’t have the easy and low-key approach that wears best in the late and long hours.”

The one sour note about Garroway came from Gee Mitchell, who said the show “really wasn’t very good. Les Crane didn’t come on quite so strong, so that’s good.” Mitchell liked Nipsey Russell and found him genuinely funny31, but found Garroway tedious. “We could have done without Dave Garroway’s inane bit about buildings falling down…move over Oscar Levant.”

As the weeks went on it appeared things were looking good. Three weeks in ABC granted an extension to Crane, as well as to Russell and Garroway. To columnist Cindy Adams, Garroway expressed happiness. “I worried about it a week before,” he said, “but I really needed it. Maybe I never knew there was that much ham in me. It’s just that when I’m facing a camera I relax. It’s the only time I can completely. I feel no more fears of any sort….I’m calm because that camera is my friend.”

And then – as happened so often in Garroway’s later years – the bottom fell out. Rumors had circulated that Nightlife would move to Los Angeles. In August, the rumors got confirmation. The move would make it easier to get guests from among the Hollywood set, and it would distinguish the show from the New York-based Johnny Carson show.

But it would make the move without Dave Garroway. “I’ve got too many kids in the fire here, so to speak,” he told the press. Garroway said he had proposed being an East Coast correspondent for the Los Angeles-based version, but had heard nothing back. Hemion floated an idea about flying Garroway in from New York on an occasional basis, “but there’s nothing firm yet.” And while Garroway would contribute a few pieces to Nightlife after the move, for the most part the program went on without him.

After the dust had settled, Garroway claimed he had been eased out of the gig. “The deal was that I was to be a regular guest for as many as one to five times a week,” he said. “I was on five times in one week, then three, then two, and finally once a week for the past two weeks. Now? I don’t know….I guess I came to network television in the morning, and I’m going out at night.” His interviewer asked if it was the end of the line. “It sort of appears that way, doesn’t it?” Garroway said. “I haven’t worked on network television for four years, and it doesn’t look like I have anything to look forward to.”

It would take time, but other opportunities would come his way.