In the couple months since I was last with you, much has happened. A whole lot of it has to do with the day job, mainly that I have become executive producer of a television program that, while it’s a complete gas to work on, has consumed much of my time and nearly all of my brain. That said, it’s going well and everybody seems to be happy with it (well, thus far, anyway), so there’s that.1
Life hasn’t been completely all that, and my perambulations the last few months provided some connections with Our Dave, fleeting though they may have been. In mid-July, a chance opportunity to visit the ocean liner United States fell in my lap, and so I made a very quick weekend trip to Philadelphia.2 My plan had been to stop in Bala Cynwyd and visit his gravesite first thing that morning, and I’d timed everything out and planned my route and everything. Well, everything went well except the execution. Since everything went well except the part where I relied on dead-reckoning and memory instead of, you know, programming a route into my phone and letting the thing guide me there, I missed the exit off I-763 and didn’t realize I’d missed it until it was too late. I’d have tried to turn around, but since my report time for the visit to the Big U was fairly well set, I had to press on. I’m sorry, Dave. But since Philadelphia is one of my favorite cities (and since there are family connections in the Philadelphia/South Jersey area), I’m pretty certain I’ll be back.
There was a consolation prize on the way back, though: I spent the night in Durham, which meant a visit to another friend in Chapel Hill the next morning was a quick hop away.4
It turned out the Philadelphia adventure wasn’t the only adventure ahead for me with a Garroway-themed sidelight. In early September a throwaway comment on a pal’s Facebook post led to an invitation I couldn’t refuse. Three weeks later I was on an overnight trip to New York City, and early on a Sunday morning I walked over to the ABC broadcast center and spent three hours watching my friend and his colleagues overseeing the production of that day’s Good Morning America and inserting updates, fixes and other edits into each hour’s feed.5 Plus my friend gave me the grand tour of ABC’s studio facilities on 66th, which now means I’ve done the behind-the-scenes trifecta.6
I had gotten into town on Saturday afternoon, which meant I had to use up a lot of time and had no particular plans. After I’d spent a little time resting in my hotel room, I went on a little amble around Midtown and visited some familiar haunts.7 But I decided while I was out that I should try to find something else. A rather vigorous walk northward took me right to it.
And there you are: 48 East 63rd Street, also known as “Garroway’s Narroway.” This was the house where Dave moved after he married Pamela, the house that was supposedly haunted by poltergeists that were driven away in an exorcism. I don’t know who lives there now, and I didn’t want to do the “look, tourists!” thing, so I paused only as long as it took to get these quick photographs. It’s been renovated inside, but the outside looks much the same, right down to the gargoyle by the front door that Dave reportedly hid a microphone inside.8
After all these years, to finally see this place (if only fleetingly) was neat.9
— Thanks to our friend Mitchell Hadley, I became aware of the Random Access Television podcast a week or so back. And while there’s several episodes on which I really need to get caught up, one is of immediate interest: their longform examination of a Garroway at Large episode, which captures their sense of discovery and wonder. Give it a listen – it’s really sweet. (And there’s also a mention or two that certainly caught my ear and made me happy. But, I digress.)
That’s right…we’ve had one more trip around the sun, and another year of remembering the life and legacy of our beloved Dave Garroway. We’ve come so far since our very first post all those many years ago, when this little project was just getting started and the book was little more than an aspiration. Now the book is out there (in the fancy hardcover version, in a casebound version, in paperback, and for Kindle) and it’s sold some copies, and we remain pleased with what we’ve achieved and hope we’ve helped show the world some sides of Dave Garroway that have too often been neglected.
Of course, just because the book’s published doesn’t mean we don’t stop finding new things. A couple new items arrived in the mail this week, vignettes from moments frozen in time. I’ll present them here – and please forgive the watermarks, but these are special items and I want to protect them. I think you’ll be able to enjoy them, regardless.
The first is from a large-scale color transparency that I had to do a great deal of color-correction on. It’s still not as good as it could be, but it’s a lot better than the washed-out version I started with. This was taken a few minutes before 9 a.m. Eastern on May 5, 1952. The two East Coast hours of Today have ended, and there’s a brief pause to regroup before the second hour for Central Time begins. To the left, Jack Lescoulie sits, taking a pause before announcing the top-of-hour program intro. Up front, a floor crewman reviews the rundown while a cameraman looks away from his TK-30’s viewfinder. Atop the viewfinder is part of a Tele-Q system, an early prompter system.
It’s coming up on four months since Today‘s debut, and there are already changes to the set; the big board that lists the home cities of affiliates, with weather conditions for each, has been mounted between the newsroom and Dave’s desk. Look closely and you’ll see some interesting things on that desk, including some books, a milk carton, and a large envelope. Note also that both Dave and Jack are wearing carnations in their lapels; this could be a run-up to Mother’s Day.10 Dave’s wearing the big RCA BK-4 in a harness rig.
If the first one was washed out, then this one is vivid as life itself. This is from after Today moved into Studio 3K in 1958, and is a vivid Ektachrome by Fred Wertheimer. The caption states that’s Helen O’Connell next to Dave. If that’s the case, this was taken sometime between July 10 and August 15, 1958, for O’Connell had requested her release from the program and was replaced by Betsy Palmer on August 18.
Look at Garroway’s expression. Even though he’s smiling, there’s something about him that seems worn and worried, in contrast to the droll Garroway of 1952. His hair is turning silver and he just looks older somehow. Look closely and you’ll see the pinkie finger of his right hand is completely bandaged; other photos from this same day show it to be a heavy bandage, and it makes me wonder if there’s a splint under it.
The big BK-4s have been replaced by the much smaller (and long-lived) BK-6, which could be worn on a cord or clipped to a lapel.11 In front of Dave is one of the iconic RCA 77 microphones. There are two monitors behind the anchor desk, but in the background there’s just a dark wall. You get the idea of what it was like to move from the bright RCA Exhibition Hall, with its street-level window, into a studio walled off and isolated from the outside world, and of the challenges the program staff faced. In the old storefront studio, all they had to do was turn the camera toward the window, but inside 3K, there was nothing to go to.12
And that’s a little present to you for Dave Garroway’s 111th birthday. Enjoy!
NOTE: In this post I make mention of suicide. It is a difficult topic to write about and I realize some of you reading this may find it difficult to read about, and if it is troubling you may want to avoid this week’s post. Most importantly, if you are having thoughts of suicide, whether or not you are in crisis, there is help and there is hope. You can find help through the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Call or text 988 to get help.
You face a problem when you’re a biographer. It’s not unlike any movie you’ve ever seen that involves a dog as a major part of the story. You know how the story’s going to end, and you know it will probably break your heart. Both life stories I’ve written thus far ended abruptly. In the case of Ben Robertson, it was with a plane crash. In the case of Dave Garroway – and there’s no easy way to say this – it was suicide.
This is a hard topic to talk about, for many reasons. For some folks, it’s deeply personal. Maybe others have lost loved ones or neighbors or colleagues this way.13 In the case of Dave Garroway, it was something I knew I’d have to handle because of how I remembered the coverage of his passing in 1982. The more I learned, though, and the more I researched and the more I talked to people in the know, I found that it was nothing new in his life, and that it had been something on his mind for a long time before he finally did it. (Depression sucks, and depression can indeed kill.)
But even though it’s a horrible thing to talk about, I’m doing no one a service if I avoid the topic. My job is to report the bad alongside the good and great, not to burnish an image, because that’s public relations and not biography. My problem then becomes, how do I tell it? The way he went was not gentle, but I have to find a way to tell it without getting lurid.14 I also have an obligation to the Garroway family to treat it with sensitivity. The event was traumatic enough; the last thing I needed was to even accidentally inflict new trauma in the retelling.
I knew what the newspaper stories said about his last observed moments. But I had nothing in between the time his wife left the house to go to an appointment, and the discovery of his body. In my first draft, I wrote what seemed plausible as a sequence of events leading up to that last second, and I tried to write it with as much discretion as I could, because the reader could piece things together. But it just didn’t feel right somehow. Then, as will happen, I made a discovery that changed things.
One of my long-standing interests is aviation history and accident investigation. One specific long-standing interest is the crash of American Airlines Flight 191 in May 1979. It’s the first aviation disaster I remember in detail, and even though I was a child when it happened I was fascinated by the story and have been since.15
The Flight 191 disaster was especially painful for the staff of Playboy magazine, because four people affiliated with the magazine were killed in the crash. Out of the grief came an assignment to writer Laurence Gonzales to conduct an in-depth investigation of aviation safety in the United States. In June 1980, Playboy published the first part of Gonzales’ two-part investigation. All these years later, it remains deep and bracing reading, and I regret that it’s paywalled and hard to access, because it’s seriously good investigative reporting that is written so well.16
Gonzales was out there among the cops and firefighters and reporters and everyone else on the scene that horrible afternoon, and three months later he came back out to survey the scene once more. He began his report with a description of the scene three months post-crash, and made mention of strands of white electrical wire that still stuck through the mud in this field where nothing could grow.
As the first installment concluded, he briefly described a visit to the McDonnell Douglas factory in Long Beach, where DC-10s were being manufactured. He noticed the wire harnesses, with hundreds of miles of electrical wire in each aircraft, and felt there was something eerie about it. Then he realized why. The first installment thus ended with a callback to all those strands of wire still sticking out of the mud near O’Hare.17
And it’s from Gonzales that I got the idea of how to handle Dave Garroway’s final moments. When you read the book, you’ll recognize a similar callback. It allowed me to handle a horrible moment with, I hope, the best available sensitivity.
For that, I must credit Laurence Gonzales. Thank you, sir, for helping me get better at what I do. I’d like to shake your hand.
Happy birthday to Dave Garroway (he’d be 110 today, you know!) – and happy birthday to our website, too. Six years ago today we went live with this ongoing tribute to our Dave, and the book was but an aspiration. Six years later, the book is now an actual thing that you can buy (and if you haven’t…well, what’s keeping you? Hmmm? C’mon…you know you want it!).
In these six years we’ve chronicled a good bit of Garroway lore and made several friends, some of whom provided important insights and materials for Peace. There have been times I wished the book could have been out years before, but if that had happened, we would have missed out on several discoveries that made the book that much better. Sometimes a project knows its own timing better than we do, and we have to take a step back and let things unfold at their own pace, and a miracle happens. That certainly happened here.
Right now I can’t tell you what’s to come in the ongoing story of the Dave Garroway story, and that’s because the project has yet to decide where it wants to go next. There could be follow-on projects, perhaps, if the opportunities present themselves. I’ve ruled nothing out. For now, it feels like enough of a victory to finally have the book out there. I thank all of you who have bought it and read it, and I hope you’ll spread the word.
— And word is getting out. My employer issued a nice press release about the book a few weeks ago, and a local radio station had me in for a brief interview about it, which I enjoyed because it was a chance to be in a good old-fashioned radio studio for the first time in forever. Earlier this week I gave an online presentation to a local group, and that was a lot of fun. I am hoping more opportunities to speak are to come (and if you’re interested in having me speak, drop me a note through the contact form).
Not to mention, this very, very kind review was published last week. I’ve known this writer for years and have high regard for his work, both in newspapering and in his own books, and I’m still floored that he wrote so kindly about something I had a hand in creating. Wow.
One of the pleasures of this historical expedition of ours has been meeting some kind people who are doing some neat things of their own. One such example arrived in the inbox a week or so back, and I’m happy to share with you here.
All Bones Considered is a podcast that tells the stories of people whose resting place is in the Laurel Hill Cemeteries near Philadelphia. As you may remember if you’re a careful reader of what we do here, two people very special to us were interred there: our Dave, along with his wife Sarah Lee Lippincott. And, as it happens, there are episodes that tell the story of our Dave and his Sarah. You can find the episode about Dave Garroway here, and the episode about Sarah Lee Lippincott is brand new and is here.
Now, I might be tempted to post the start times for their segments, but I want to encourage you to listen to the whole thing and not scrub past the other fascinating stories. It’s a very peaceful and interesting podcast, and I think you’ll enjoy it a lot, so go check it out. It’s worth it.
(And in the interest of full disclosure: Joe Lex, the host and driving force behind All Bones Considered, used material from this blog in the creation of the segment about Sarah Lee Lippincott. The use was with my blessing, and it’s a treat to hear some of my words spoken in a rich, soothing voice as part of the podcast. Thank you, Joe!)
Last week the post office had a very heavy box for me to pick up. You’ll never guess what was inside.
There were twelve books in there. (I know – you’re seeing eight.) One was a blooper (my jacket and cover, but someone else’s pages in it18 – but it’s being replaced). Two immediately went out in the same morning’s mail, one to Brandon and one to Dave’s daughter. Most of the rest of these went out over coming days – two to folks who lent me photos, the remainder to people who were helpful in various ways.19 I have another box of books on the way, and most of those are earmarked for other folks who were helpful.
I have enabled the book for distribution, which means over the coming days and/or weeks IngramSpark will disseminate the data to the various book exchanges and you’ll be able to order a copy through your preferred bookseller. I am also in the process of setting up a Bookshop affiliate account, and will provide a link for you to order the book through that link.20
(Ed. note: Here’s a link that will do for the time being.)
I also plan to order a supply of books to keep on hand here, which I will need for readings and what not, and I’ll find a way to offer them through this site if you want a signed copy. I have to anticipate these things because it usually takes two weeks from order to delivery21, and since a case of books involves a certain amount of money, I have to plan ahead. But I’ll make it work out.
As you can see, it’s not a small book. But I think you’ll find it worth the cover price when you have it in your hands. Stay tuned – you’ll soon be able to do just that.
I don’t know if you felt a little shift in the universe or not a little after 2 p.m. our time Sunday. If you did, it was caused by a Microsoft Word document, about 412,000 bytes, being transferred via e-mail to the publisher.
I wish I could say it prompted great celebration here, or even some kind of release. But, to be honest with you, it was the culmination of several straight days of making last edits, hoping to be sure the format met as many of the publisher’s requirements as possible. I went through that document – all 494 pages of it, by the time it was done – several times. By Sunday afternoon, I had officially reached the “I’m done” point, and sent it on. Not only was I satisfied things were as in order as I could make them, but I was tired from reading it, and I just wanted it over with. I was numb.22 I went in the kitchen and got a can of Coke23 and a little snack. And that’s how I celebrated.
What happens next? Well, the publisher will send the file to a copy editor, who will go through it very, very carefully. Anything that’s amiss in it, I’ll have to correct or otherwise bring in line with house style. Nor is my work completely done, either, because I have two or three photographs that still need resolution of rights and permissions.24 Once all of that is squared away, I can forward the image files and captions to the publisher.
Then, for the most part, my work will be done for a while, at least until it’s time to review edits and then (soon, I hope) galleys. Then, at some point after that, along will come completed books. And then, I hope will follow the really fun part, which will be some kind of tour (I hope) and speaking engagements and what not, and those are fun, and I hope there will be more than a few of those.
Anyway, for now, there you are. This project is a lot closer to being done, and the dream Dave Jr. had for so long is a lot closer to coming true. I wish Dave was here to see it, but I can’t help thinking he knows.
:: As horror has unfolded on another side of the world over the last month, this is a time more appropriate than most others to pray for the thing Dave Garroway wished: peace. Do so, please.
On January 31, 1987 NBC gave over a prime-time hour so that Today could celebrate its 35th anniversary. As you’ll see, this is a fascinating special, particularly because of one feature.25
A word of warning: This is a very image-heavy retrospective. This special was fast-paced and used a lot of archival footage. I didn’t include everything I had wanted to include, because otherwise I’d still be editing photos this time next week. Anyway, here we go.
“Hunter takes a detour tonight so we can help our friends at the Today Show celebrate a special anniversary.”26 This six-feathered version of the Peacock that we know so well? When this airs, it’s less than a year old.
We open with Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel, who just happen to be walking along 49th Street in front of the old Exhibition Hall. Gumbel points out where they are and how it was where Today began. “I think there’s a bank there now,” Gumbel adds mid-sentence, in that parenthetical way of his. Jane Pauley sets the scene for what television was like in 1952 – only 15 million sets in the whole country, with most viewership in the evenings, and the thought of an early-morning television show was unusual. “In fact, only 26 stations carried that first Today show,” she says.
The people on the sidewalk just keep passing by, paying no heed. There’s no way you could do this now, not when everybody wants to mug for the camera.
Then we go to a montage of classic moments, with a simple and very pretty rendition of “Sentimental Journey” in the background. And, sure enough, the first clip we see is J. Fred Muggs with Dave Garroway.
The focus in the opening montage is on lighthearted moments. You’d almost get the feeling Today was a comedy revue. The only really serious moment is Pope John Paul II holding hands and praying with Gumbel and Pauley. Then we dissolve to the dignitaries gathered for the evening, and the velvet voice of Fred Facey introduces the show.
“Welcome to Today at 35, and our family reunion,” Gumbel says, teeing up the introductions as being like a family album. We’re introduced to the returning family members with archival footage, followed by a shot of them in the studio. One neat touch is that the NBC logo appropriate for the start of their tenure is shown alongside their names.
The entire gathering was introduced in alphabetical order: Frank Blair, Tom Brokaw, John Chancellor, Hugh Downs, Betty Furness, Joe Garagiola, Jim Hartz, Florence Henderson, Jack Lescoulie, Lee Meriwether, Edwin Newman, Helen O’Connell, Betsy Palmer, John Palmer, Willard Scott, Gene Shalit, Barbara Walters, and Pat Weaver (“all of this is his baby – which he enjoys now from retirement,” Gumbel says). Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel round out the introduction.
“Our beginnings were humble,” Gumbel says, teeing up the obligatory clip of the first morning. “Dave Garroway and a staff of 35, working in a storefront with people looking in the window. The critics all laughed, and said it wouldn’t last even 13 weeks.”
I think there’s some kind of written regulation at NBC that they have to show this clip at least once in every special.
When we rejoin the present, Bryant Gumbel is sitting at a re-creation of the original set – “this is NOT the original,” he takes pains to point out.27
Gumbel is joined by Hugh Downs, Tom Brokaw and Frank Blair there to recount the early days of Today. Gumbel asks Blair if he felt like a pioneer. “Definitely,” Blair says. He noted that being up early and doing this unusual thing bound them together. Blair notes that producer Mort Werner was asked once what makes Today click: “It’s a matter of chemistry.”
Downs remembers being on the NBC staff in Chicago and watching the first Today program from the booth – “I was duly amazed, but I didn’t think people would be up tuning in.” Brokaw muses, “As I sit here thinking about it, these are my heroes! I was growing up out there in South Dakota, and television was truly my window on the world.” Downs remembers moments that, looking back, he called “golden.”
Garroway sits, bemused, as an entire marching band winds through the Exhibition Hall…and watches a flea circus perform on the air.
Blair notes the program was criticized “when we brought the chimpanzee in,” but the reasoning was that kids would turn the program on to see the chimpanzee, and the parents would realize there was a news program going on. “So we all owe a great debt of gratitude to J. Fred Muggs…wherever you are,” Blair says with mock solemnity.
I guess I owe the little guy this much.
Gumbel asks all three if one appreciates Today more after you’ve left it. Brokaw is grateful for having done it; Downs makes a lighthearted but appreciative comment. It becomes clear that Frank Blair never really let go. “If I were younger, I would love to still be doing it. I would boot John Palmer right out of here and take over. But you reach a point of no return. You run out of fuel, and it’s better that a younger man has my job now.”
As they go to break, there’s a clip of John “Skid” Chancellor and Frank “Checkers” Blair running the first Today Show Grand Prix, a go-kart race inside the studio.
There’s a commercial. Soft piano. A woman’s voice, over shots of a bedroom: “Silk always makes me feel sensuous.” And when the woman in the commercial wears pantyhose that glistens like silk and feels like silk, “I feel wonderful…all over.”28
Then GM, in a Very Important Commercial, talks about its commitment to building better cars, culminating in a new six-year, 60,000-mile warranty “that tells you each and every GM car we build today is the best-quality, best-value GM car ever.”29
When we come back, Jane Pauley leads off a segment with Barbara Walters, mentioning her ascent from being hired by Dave Garroway as a writer to becoming co-host. There are clips of her interviewing dignitaries and statesmen and other VIPs…followed by the obligatory clips from a segment in which Walters went undercover at a Playboy Club in 1962, complete with the bunny costume.
Walters remembers the “bunny dip” used to serve patrons their drinks.
They segue into how Walters’ role evolved from writing women’s features to doing general features. Then there’s another clip, a 1965 segment where Walters spends an evening with the information telephone operators in the 50th Street office, and tries it herself, only to be greeted by the voice of Jack Lescoulie on the other end of the line.
Pauley asks Walters who she looked up to growing up. Walters replies that someday Pauley herself would hear young women say what Walters heard: “I grew up with you.”30 And Walters says she was very proud that when she left, Pauley took her place. “I think it’s a great credit to me that someone like you followed.”31
From there Pauley segues to talking about the role of the Today Girls. And four of them – Lee Meriwether, Helen O’Connell, Florence Henderson and Betsy Palmer – regale us with a cute song about what it was like and the people (and chimpanzee) they worked with, complete with more clips.
Edwin Newman is mentioned only in passing in this song, but I love this clip during the montage – from the end of a special he did long ago. He gives the NBC News disclaimer at the end, while taking a long-awaited bath, then squeezes the sponge over his head and lets out a satisfied sigh.
At the end, Jane Pauley comes over and has a little fun with how they sang her name. She then asks Bernie Wayne, who wrote the song and played the piano, to play a few bars of his most famous composition.
It turns out to be “There She Is, Miss America.” Which, of course, Lee Meriwether came to Today after her reign as Miss America, and there’s a moment of warm reminiscence. That’s promptly disposed of in the throw to break, with the famous clip of Harpo Marx32 chasing a Today Girl around the studio.
Then a bumper, with an RCA TK-11/31. Always a lovely thing to see.
Commercials: A UPS ad looks back on the company’s history through old black-and-white photos. Then lots of fast-paced, high-energy scenes of modern UPS operations. Lots of 727s and 747s. “We run the tightest ship in the shipping business.”
Great airplanes. I loved flying on 727s, back when you could. I miss them.
That’s followed by a commercial for a very personal thing women use. Somehow, clear blue liquid is supposed to demonstrate how effective it is. Right. (No, I’m not showing a picture.)
Then Ann-Margret and Claudette Colbert in “The Two Mrs. Grenvilles,” coming February 8.
“Sir, does this mean Ann-Margret won’t be coming?”
Followed by a Saturday Night Live promo with host Paul Shaffer being heckled by the Church Lady.
Back to the anniversary show, it’s time for a look at the entertainment greats that have been on Today. Some neat finds in the montage, including this exchange between George Gobel and Dave Garroway, when the entire morning’s show was done outside the studio:
Gobel: “The whole show? Out here in the street?”
Garroway: “Yep.”
Gobel: “Well, see now, that’s television for you. You know, just one bad week and you’re out.”
There’s also a glimpse of the famous/infamous “Caesar and Cleopatra” sketch with Jack Lescoulie and Jayne Mansfield.33
Gumbel is at the desk, this time with various occupants of the sidekick role: Willard Scott, Gene Shalit, Joe Garagiola and Jack Lescoulie.
The first anecdote has Lescoulie telling the story of the day Ava Gardner was supposed to be on Today, but didn’t show up. The quick-thinking Garroway summoned staff member Estelle Parsons to the desk. “You be Ava Gardner.” And Garroway conducted the interview. This dissolves into a discussion about how humor is tough to sell in the morning, which leads to playful bickering between Joe Garagiola and Gene Shalit. “Did you ever have hair?” Shalit asks. Garagiola replies, “I think you’re overdressed!” Without missing a beat, Willard Scott leaps up, his toupee in hand. “I think we can correct that!” And he plonks the toupee atop Garagiola’s head.
“This is the dignified Joe Garagiola look….”
…and then Willard turns the toupee. “Now here’s the Hippie Joe Garagiola look! Give him a guitar and watch him go!”
Lescoulie tells a story about a day he was late getting to the studio, and how in those days the tradition was to cut your tie if you made a mistake. Up against the segment clock, Gumbel asks Lescoulie to tell about the ring he wears.
It’s a duplicate of the one Garroway wore, Lescoulie says, and he gave it to him in 1953. “The inscription inside is typical Garroway,” he says, “And it says ‘To Jack from Dave, for being just what you are by the dawn’s early light.’ And I’ve worn it ever since.” Lescoulie then looks toward the camera. “And, old partner, thank you, and peace to you.”
There’s then a montage, introduced by Jane Pauley, about the versatile but lesser-sung members of the Today family.
The very first clip in the montage is the only glimpse you’ll get all night of the forgotten Jim Fleming.
Then there’s an interview with Betty Furness.
Betty mentions that she was a friend of Garroway’s34, so she watched the very first show, and when they began to have women on the show, she wanted to be on the show. “But nobody would talk to me!” She notes that she continued to be snubbed even after she was no longer doing commercials at CBS. What finally got her a role on Today was her work as a consumer reporter for WNBC-TV, and a chance meeting at the elevator with a Today producer led to a substitute hosting job. Then Gumbel crashes the interview35 to show a clip of Jane Pauley bogarting his cigar at a political convention a few years before.
Then more ads.
AT&T is going to combine computers and communications so we can get the right information to the right people at the right time. Reckon how that’s gonna work out?
Smart Cat. Ask any cat and they’ll tell you they’re smarter than humans, anyway.
A slow sweep of the newsroom on that first morning forms a neat bumper for the local throw.
Remington Steele is back! Tuesday!
Peak ’80s. (And, yes, Today did originate from Australia starting the following Monday.)
Back from the break, it’s time to talk about Important News, the big stories, the world leaders and presidents and aspirants and such who have stopped by. This leads in to a discussion with Barbara Walters, John Chancellor, John Palmer and Edwin Newman.
Chancellor starts the discussion with a self-deprecating joke about the montage that led the segment off.36 The comments from the panel speak of the influence the morning shows have gained, to the point that the White House kept track of the shows’ ratings and decided where to deploy their spokespeople accordingly.
Back at the 1952 desk, Jane Pauley takes note of the changes in technology, and notes that Today has featured new technologies right from the first day:
Garroway shows off a wirephoto machine on the first day. “We’ll show it to you mere minutes after it was taken. The print we show you will still be wet, but you won’t be able to feel it at home. I hope.”
Then Mufax shows the home audience grainy stills of the Queen’s coronation.
Hugh Downs and Jim Hartz join Pauley to talk about the change in technology, particularly in how microphones have grown tinier as time has passed. Downs predicts that at the rate they’re shrinking, microphones will disappear altogether in August 1991. Pauley disagrees: “No, I think it’ll be implants, Hugh.” They then discuss how Today has been around the world, buttressed with a quick montage of the many places the program has visited: Paris, Romania, Ireland, Tokyo, Rio de Janeiro, at sea aboard the liner s/s Norway. Jim Hartz suggests that the audience may have become jaded, because they have become accustomed to “whatever you can imagine, you can do.”
We go to commercial with a look out the old 49th Street window.
Other side of the TK-11/31. I want one.
A sentimental spot for Amtrak. “There’s somethin’ about a train that’s magic.”37 Followed by a spot for this new pain reliever called Advil.
“The ritual of Oil of Olay.” Get you some of this stuff and some of that silky pantyhose from the first half-hour, and you’ll be at full-blown Mystical Womanhood before you know it.
A really neat spot for college basketball, with live action giving way to animated pastel renderings. Really beautiful, really classy. I wish we still saw stuff like this today.
During a brief interlude Pauley, Gumbel and Scott talk about what it’s been like, with all the stories and anecdotes and good times. Willard notes, “Everybody really seems to like each other.”38 Then Pauley says they’ve been wondering what Today will be like in the future, so through the magic of computers, they’ve sent Mike Leonard ahead 35 years…to the year 2022. Yes. To this year.
So this is what this year is like. Where’s the Snake logo, then?
“The cameras are robotic. Just stick to the script,” a robotic voice tells Leonard. Well, we do have robotic cameras now, I guess. Anyway, in this version of 2022, there’s a cure for the common cold.39 And they’ll talk live with some of the moment’s biggest celebrities:
The news is sent through absorption. Commercials are two seconds long and subliminal. And weather forecasters can actually do something about the weather: as a robocam hovers nearby, a blizzard in Buffalo gets sent to Los Angeles.
But there’s time to look back to 70 years ago, when Garroway tried out Mary Kelly’s electric typewriter.
This compares to the “rather large” portable television of 1986.
“But give them credit…they knew what the future held.”
Yeah, they got that one right.
And in a disturbing twist, digital facsimiles of yourself can be sent anywhere around the world. Which leads to several Mike Leonards ganging up on him.
This disturbs him. “Because that’s what made the Today show. All the human touches.” Garroway pops in every now and again, a patron saint of the program’s humanity.
Especially as he roars at a telephone receiver.
Leonard’s had enough of this technological dystopia. “Send me back 35 years.”41 So he clicks together his ruby-studded shoes…only to be trapped inside a computer screen.
A more serious look at the future comes in a brief visit with Pat Weaver. “It’s good to be back,” Weaver says, “and particularly on such an auspicious occasion.” Weaver doesn’t think the future will be like Leonard’s fanciful journey. “It’ll still be people. But the future will change, a lot.” Weaver hopes the future will bring fulfillment of the first promise of broadcasting: that you can sit at home, in your comfortable chair, and be somewhere else in the world, at the push of a button and the speed of light. Although he’s disappointed that the promise has yet to be fulfilled, he is optimistic “that with the new technology that we’re getting, we will finally be able to be a world without privilege” – that it won’t require family connections or wealth or aristocracy to enjoy the best things there are. Gumbel reminds Weaver of something he wrote in 1952: that the goal was to enrich life and make the common man quite uncommon. “That’s right!” Weaver says. “Glad to see you’re still consistent,” Gumbel says.42
We go to break with Garroway using his long microphone cord like a whip, to the amusement of the crowd outside.
As they say good night, they remember a couple of family members who have gone onward.
Frank McGee, who joined Today in 1971, “and before his death three years later, the quiet man from Oklahoma made a lot of new friends.”44
…and Dave Garroway. Gumbel closes: “We want to remember Dave Garroway tonight as we always remember him: on some weekday morning, sometime in the ’50s, in living black and white, slightly bemused by the world around him, and believing that a little whimsy never hurt anybody.”
“The environment you live in inevitably influences your personality…I wonder how ours is gonna get influenced, living as often as we do, many hours of the day, in this strange and unique room. This is the only room in the world like the one we live in. With many lights, and…I wonder if we’re gonna have lights growing out of our heads someday.”
It’s Garroway who sees us through the closing credits…and bids us good night, in his familiar way.
Another year has passed – much too quickly, it seems. And another year has passed in which I haven’t written as much here as I would have liked. Unfortunately, that’s a side effect of having completed the manuscript and now working on the publication side of things.45
And in that regard, though I (obviously) can’t talk much about it, that’s probably the biggest news as the year ends. We do have someone who’s interested in working with us. Once I am free to talk about the details, I will do so, but experience (as well as superstition) has taught me not to talk in detail about such things until paperwork is signed.
There are other things I must get in order, including rounding up photographs and getting clearances, which is going to be time-consuming.46 But it will all get done, because I made a promise to the Garroway family, and I feel a duty to the man whose story I am telling, and I do my best to keep my promises.
In the meantime, I thank you again for being part of this journey, and I thank you for your patience as we move forward to the next chapter47 of this story. Here, too, are hopes that 2022 will be a lot kinder to all of us. And my fondest hope is for what Dave Garroway himself wished us all.
“Hunter takes a detour tonight so we can help our friends at the Today Show celebrate a special anniversary.”
