I’ve written on here before about the importance of preserving television history. That’s not just in writing books about people like Dave Garroway, but also in preserving the things that remain. Some of those things are easy to preserve, like books and documents. Other pieces are a little more substantial, but still manageable. And then there’s some that require some effort. That’s what led to an adventure last week.
I’ve been friends with Bobby Ellerbee for several years, and on a few occasions I’ve visited him and his dogs at his home in Georgia. Over the years Bobby amassed a collection of television cameras that spanned a good half-century of the medium’s history. The first time I visited, two rooms were awash with just about every studio camera you could imagine, and his garage had just about enough surplus equipment to start a network.
Over the years, some of Bobby’s collection found new homes at museums or with film prop companies, but his camera room was still nicely populated. Recently, though, he bought a new house. It’s a nice house, but it doesn’t have the display area of the house he’s vacating. Bobby had to make some hard choices. To make a long story short, I got a phone call, and last week I rented a box truck and drove over to his house.
The more the truck filled up, the more I realized this was real, and I started to think about the two happiest days in the life of a boat owner.
In the space of about two and a half hours that Thursday, Bobby and three movers and I loaded four cameras and pedestals, a few boxes of equipment and books, and some other stuff we could put to work in our building. Bobby had told me to rent a truck with a lift gate, and it’s a very good thing I did. Camera pedestals are heavy. By 11 that morning the truck was loaded up and I was headed back home. I spent the afternoon and evening unloading the truck at the office, and that night I drove it back and reclaimed my car.1
The brave rental truck at the end of its travels with me. This was a happy moment, likely for both of us.
So, let’s see what we have.
Longtime readers will be familiar with this: the RCA TK-47. I already had one, but I certainly was not going to pass up another. Unlike mine, the internals of this one are still intact, and as I was cleaning it up I was interested to look inside.2 Bobby had installed vinyl lettering on either side to honor NBC’s flagship stations in New York and Los Angeles. Inside is a property tag from WISH-TV in Indianapolis. Part of me thinks it would be fitting to restore the WISH-TV livery, but I’m awfully fond of the genuine NBC stickers on there, especially since I associate the TK-47 with Saturday Night Live and David Letterman’s late-night NBC show.3 Fortunately, I’ve got a while to decide what to do.
A contemporary of the TK-47 is the Ikegami HK-312, which Bobby had decorated as an ABC camera of the 1980s. It’s appropriate, because ABC used Ikegamis a lot. The Ikegami doesn’t get recognized a lot but it was one of the workhorse cameras of its day, and you’ve watched a lot more television that was brought to you through these machines than you may realize. This particular one has some interesting labels inside about its history, and the box lens has an ABC property tag on it.
Now, here’s a rarity: a Marconi Mark VII. This one actually did belong to Tele-Tape Productions back in the day, which meant it spent a couple years at work in the early days of Sesame Street. What looks like sheet metal damage in the photo is really the reproduction logo, printed on vinyl, separating from the side of the camera. I’m going to replace that as soon as I can get the printing done (the design is pretty much done, but I just need to find someone who can print it to my specifications). In the meantime it’ll wear a rare and very interesting livery that a few Mark VIIs wore for a short period.
No, that’s not the pedestal they used under these when they were in service. Although, given their weight, you can sort of understand it.
And this stylish beast is the RCA TK-42. I’ve seen it described as RCA’s attempt to combine the color of the TK-41 with the sharpness of the monochrome TK-60. Unfortunately, ambition didn’t match execution and the TK-42 was not a hit. NBC itself really didn’t want anything to do with them, so TK-42s and TK-43s were often what brought local stations into the color era.4 The TK-42 was soon superseded by the great and durable TK-44. This one somehow made it to modern times, and even has the proper RCA pedestal and head most often seen beneath them. Unfortunately, it’s missing a few of its internals and has to be balanced with some weights inside, but from the outside you couldn’t tell. The black-and-gold RCA logo disappeared from the right side somewhere along the way, but a very helpful designer with a 3D printer was able to print up a replacement that looks just like it’s always been there, and I’m very happy.
We look much happier wearing the General’s lightning bolt. Now imagine how we’ll look once we’re back on our big ol’ pedestal and we can get a good all-over clean-up and shine.
There’s plenty left to do on these cameras. I’ve done some initial clean-up on them, but when I have time I want to give each one a good going-over to make them look as good as they can.5 There’s also a few things I may do as I find period-correct hardware for these machines. But all that’s down the road. Right now, what matters is that these old machines are safe in their new home, where young eyes will be able to see the equipment that helped make possible what they now take as a given.
Our second installment of rare Garroway footage1 involves his well-known love of sports cars. We’ve talked about this on the blog before, especially in terms of his beloved Jaguar. Garroway was a keen amateur racer, particularly in the late 1940s and early 1950s. But even though he put aside racing as a driver, he never lost his love for watching car races and supporting the sport through other means.2
Here is some rare footage of a sports car race at Andrews Air Force Base (yes, that one)3 in the 1954 season, probably the President’s Cup race. This 20-minute silent film is a feast for sports car lovers, but of interest to us here is who you start to see about 17 minutes in, and then popping up at the end to interview the winning driver.
In July 1959 Clementine Paddleford, food editor for This Week magazine, visited Dave and Pamela Garroway at their New York home for her series “How America Eats.” As part of the article, Dave and Pamela talked about how their family liked to eat.
Dave confessed that his one talent in the kitchen was making a New Orleans Remoulade, which he liked to make and serve on shrimp when they had company over for dinner and conversation.1 For years, he admitted, “I lived on salmon sandwiches, milk and bananas. I still like bananas, but now I prefer them flambeed.” The difference, he said, was marrying Pamela. “She is keeping my waistline trim, yet I have never eaten better.”
Dave gets sample of Pamela’s chili – it’s a Saturday-night favorite
While Pamela, who had lived in Paris for many years, knew French food well, it was a comparably humble dish of hers that became a favorite of Dave’s: Homemade Canned Chili, made with two cans of chili con carne and some extra ingredients.2 The article noted that on Friday nights in the wintertime, Dave loved to come home to a dinner of chili and crackers. It was also a favorite on their Sunday table at their beach house on Long Island. They liked to serve it along with a green salad tossed with thyme and tarragon wine vinegar dressing, hot garlic bread, Chianti or beer (depending on individual taste), and chilled melon balls for dessert.
Lest the Garroways’ favorite recipes be lost forever, it’s my pleasure to provide you with the three recipes from the article. Use them in all good health.
Remoulade Sauce
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup Creole mustard*
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup finely-chopped celery
1/2 cup finely-chopped onion
2 tbsp. minced parsley
2 tbsp. finely-chopped dill pickle
1 clove garlic, minced
juice of one lemon
few drops hot pepper sauce
1 tbsp. paprika
red pepper to taste
Combine mayonnaise, mustard and olive oil. Add remaining ingredients and blend thoroughly. Serve over shrimp. Yield: 2 cups sauce. *Note: If a sharper type of mustard is used, the amount may be decreased as desired.
Homemade Canned Chili
6 medium onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1/2 pound ground beef
2 cans (1 pound each) chili con carne with beans
1/2 cup chili sauce
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
dash of pepper
few drops hot pepper sauce
Saute onions in butter until soft; remove from pan. Cook beef until brown. Add sauteed onions and remaining ingredients. Heat, stirring until well-blended. Cover. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Yield: 4 portions.
Flounder in Sherry
1 lb. flounder fillets, cut into serving pieces
1/3 cup minced onion
1/2 cup sherry wine
1 can (4 oz.) chopped mushrooms and liquid
salt
coarsely-ground black pepper
Place fish fillets in shallow greased baking dish. Sprinkle on onion. Add sherry, mushrooms and mushroom liquid. Season with salt and pepper. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes. Serve with sauce, as desired. Yield: 3 to 4 portions.
To complete the course, Pamela suggests buttered green peas and little new potatoes feathered with parsley. For dessert, a lemon ice and ladyfingers.
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-moving1) 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.2 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.)
As I began writing this, I’d been home for less than a day’s span. The sun is coming through the back windows. I was home Monday because the college cancelled classes as a precaution, but there’s barely any trace of the big storm that created havoc elsewhere, and that played a role in the tale I’m about to share. It was an interesting trip, and I got much more than I expected.
Last Wednesday morning I started out on the long drive north. Timing was with me because I was going to be well north of Florence by the time things started to happen. Aside from a lot of road construction around Charlotte gumming things up, there wasn’t a lot to complicate the journey. It was just hours and hours of long stretches of road grinding away at me. I took it in longer stretches than I probably should have. I also probably should have taken care to eat better and stay better hydrated (that’s a casualty of my tendency to minimize my stops en route). This bit me in a rather amusing fashion when I missed a crucial turn in West Virginia and ended up a mile away from where I needed to be, and I realized I was getting hangry. A quick stop for a snack helped take care of that. Soon Frederick, Maryland came into range, and from there a drive east to the loop around Baltimore, and then the last leg up 83 to Hunt Valley. I pulled in at the hotel right at 7 that night.
Tired but grateful, I dragged myself into the lobby and waited for a clerk. There were two meetings going on at the same time, and with such a large hotel there would be people needing problems solved. It took about ten minutes but I finally got checked in. I pulled the car around the back of the hotel near my room, unpacked everything and went on up.
After a few moments to decompress after the drive I contacted Kevin, my co-presenter, and asked him to meet me in the bar downstairs. I went down and snagged a table, using a few moments to catch up on work tasks. Finally Kevin arrived and we spent a few moments talking about our respective travels to the convention. Over a quick dinner we reviewed the next day’s slideshow, then with that done we talked shop for a while. Time was creeping up and I was starting to hit the wall, but before heading off for the night I showed Kevin where the room was that we’d speak the next morning. Then I went back to my room, up the stairs and down the series of hallways and corridors I’d traverse countless times the next two days or so, and conked out for the night.
It must be official, then.
The next morning I was up too early, my body still operating on work time. During the wait I ran through the slideshow, rehearsed my comments and timed my presentation. Everything seemed good, and for as much as my tendency to overprepare can complicate my life, it does make things much easier when you have to perform. A little before 8:30 I arrived in the lobby and Kevin was there waiting…complete with his Dave Garroway glasses and a bow tie. We went into the seminar room and started getting set up, and talked with the very helpful staff members who were helping out. I ran through the slideshow to make sure everything would work as intended (it did, thankfully), and then it was just waiting for the big hand on the clock to go straight up. While we waited people started to come in. Among them were Mitchell and Judie Hadley, who came up to the table to see us. That was the first of many, many conversations we’d have the next two days.
Finally it was 9 a.m. Time to make the doughnuts. And after all the preparation…it was almost anti-climactic, because things just worked. But that’s why you practice. I handed the floor over to Kevin for his portion and that ran quickly, and before we knew it the hour was up. All the work we’d put into all of this was now history. We didn’t have a packed hall (it was the first seminar on the first day, after all, so you had to want to be there) but we had a decent turnout and good response from those who were there, and through the convention both Kevin and I had people come up to us and compliment us on the program.
With that weight off my shoulders, I headed back to the room to change clothes and drop off the presentation equipment. While I was away, housekeeping had come in, left some replacement towels, made up my bed, carefully folded a couple of shirts I’d left on the bed, and neatly placed my toiletries on a folded towel by the bathroom sink. It was an unexpected and pleasant little touch.
Mitchell Hadley’s seminar.
Back downstairs I went for a quick sweep of the vendor offerings before the next seminar I wanted to attend. That one was at 11, and was presented by Mitchell Hadley. His seminar was about how a close look at TV Guide through the years will give you a window into what America was like at any given moment, and in some instances you find out…well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was like one of his posts on It’s About TV, but even better in person. I stuck around for the seminar immediately after, which looked at The Andy Griffith Show. Since I’m a Southern girl who just about grew up in Mayberry, and grew up watching Andy Griffith, that one was not a optional seminar for me.
After a quick lunch I returned to the vendor room to introduce Kevin to some folks and show him a Jack Paar item I’d found. We looked around the various tables full of wares (and there were many). Then I was able to introduce him to my friend Carol Ford, who was again promoting her magnificent book on Bob Crane, and who had given me so much advice last year. Kevin and Carol quickly discovered they didn’t live far from one another, and they hit it off. It reminded me again why I go to these things: it isn’t the stuff you can buy, but the people you can meet and the friends you get to see again. And speaking of friends, I spent a lot of time both days hanging out with Mitchell and Judie, who were selling Mitchell’s books (his two novels and his latest book, The Electronic Mirror). Sometimes the conversation was deep, often it was hilarious, but all of it was good.
Autograph line for Morgan Fairchild.Gone but not forgotten.
Be that as it may, I did find a few things to bring home. Most of it involved books or magazines, including a TV Guide with Dave Garroway on the cover. I also stumbled across a gentleman selling off a massive collection of soundtrack LPs. There were a couple I had to get because they’re favorite movies (The Bridge on the River Kwai, Grand Prix – and even though I have the much-expanded Grand Prix soundtrack on CD, the album has a spectacular cover that for such a low price I was not passing up). But when you find something like this, there’s no way you can pass that up.
Howard Hesseman, Jan Smithers, and moderator Leah Biel.
That afternoon I attended the WKRP reunion. To be there on time, I came in as the previous panel – featuring several stars, including Morgan Fairchild and Ed Begley, Jr. – was wrapping up. Then the WKRP folks came in. It was only Howard Hesseman and Jan Smithers; Tim Reid was delayed en route, and Loni Anderson had cancelled (but I don’t think anyone held it against her, for obvious reasons). It was a fun seminar – Hesseman is a hoot to begin with, and Smithers is delightful, and it’s obvious the affection the cast members have for one another to this day, and that they regarded working on WKRP as a truly great experience.
Once that was done, Kevin and I thought about getting something to eat. It was a little too late to go anywhere, so we thought about returning to the hotel bar…only to see it absolutely packed. (At the table closest to the entrance, who should we see but Robert Wagner and his party. I didn’t look to see if he was dining on mutated ill-tempered sea bass.) Since it was so late and I was tired, I told Kevin we’d just do a rain check on dinner, and we parted ways for the night. I stopped by the ever-handy vending machines on the way back to the room.
The next morning I enjoyed the feeling of not having to give a seminar and went downstairs at my own leisure. I wanted to catch Rick Goldschmidt‘s seminar about Rankin-Bass, and it was a good seminar. I looked around but didn’t see Kevin anywhere. This was answered when I went out for lunch and checked my voicemail: he wasn’t feeling well and was going to rest for a while. (Later that afternoon I heard from him; he was feeling better, and had gone to a few more events.) But with my supply of cash dwindling and having scoured almost all the vendor tables, I was running out of things to do. I spent a good bit of time again at the Hadleys’ table visiting with them, having this fun, wide-ranging conversation that covered so many different things. Then one last sweep of the vendor room, and that was pretty much it for me.
Now, against all of this Hurricane Florence was playing out, and it was in the back of my mind the whole time. I was constantly watching the forecast updates. I’d planned to spend all of Saturday driving home so I could have Sunday to rest before going back to work Monday. But it started to look like my part of the world was going to get hammered. And word came that work had been cancelled for Monday. I began thinking it would be prudent to spend Saturday night somewhere north of the bad weather. So I quickly redeemed some loyalty points for a room a few miles north of the North Carolina border. This would help split the drive home but still keep me away from anything serious.
But, of course, this meant I had to figure out what to do Saturday. As it happened, there was much to choose from, and I decided to fulfill a promise I’d made to myself long ago. I spent the morning at the National Air and Space Museum’s annex next to Dulles International Airport. Suffice to say that for someone who loves just about anything related to aviation and spaceflight, the place is pure catnip. I was there when the exhibits opened for the day, and for me the most powerful moment came right when the exhibits opened. While just about everybody else was milling around or entranced by the SR-71, I made a beeline straight for the Space Hangar. This gave me probably ten minutes alone with the Space Shuttle Discovery. The last time I’d seen Discovery was ten years ago, when it was lifting off for the International Space Station. Now it was just the two of us, alone and up close. It was profound. Of course, there was so much else to see, and so many pictures to take, and I’m surprised the camera on my phone survived, but it did.
A perfect way to spend a Saturday morning.
Then it was on to the stop for the night. The weather was reasonably decent, with a few instances of rain (but nothing too heavy) along the way. In late afternoon I reached my overnight stop. I checked in and found to my surprise I’d been given a large and nicely-appointed room. Across the highway was a little family-owned Italian restaurant. I’d been eating out of vending machines the last few days and was pretty much famished, so I made a beeline for the Italian joint. Suffice to say that what ensued was pure bliss. Back in my room, I took a nice long bath and spent the evening watching football games and eating the other half of my pizza. Or, I should say, “trying to watch football games.” After a certain point the signal kept going out. I looked out the window and saw driving rain, almost horizontal, pelting everything. I’d gotten back just in time. I was in a big hotel room, warm and dry and with a full belly, with nothing to do but relax. It was just this side of perfect.
After a good night’s sleep, I bundled everything up, loaded up the car, and drove the rest of the way home. Most of the trip was routine. The only really sporty section of it was around Charlotte, where the rain got kind of heavy. But in time, we got through it. And, finally, I was home. To my relief, we’d been spared anything other than a little wind and some rain. My adventure was over, and two affection-starved cats were dueling for my lap.
Some of my finds. See if you can go to this thing and not buy stuff. I dare you.
It was an adventure – this year, more than I bargained for. But it was a lot of fun. I’m already looking forward to next year.
Hello from the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention in beautiful Hunt Valley, Maryland. The Garroway at Large delegation (me) arrived safely last night after what seemed like a long and arduous journey of 18,132 nautical miles and a little adventurous weather along the way. But we navigated it just fine. Last night I met up with Kevin Doherty, my co-presenter, and we discussed last details.
This morning we gave our presentation. It was nicely attended (you can’t ask too much at nine in the morning, but we drew a decent crowd regardless), and they were engaged and when they laughed, it was for the reasons we’d wanted them to laugh. Throughout the day it’s been nice to be stopped by folks who said they enjoyed the presentation, or to ask questions, or that kind of thing. There’s a satisfaction not only in having the thing in the books, but in knowing the job was done well.
With the presentation done first thing and the pressure off, it means I can use the rest of my time here to attend other seminars, browse the vendor rooms, and – best of all – meet up with friends. Mitchell and Judie Hadley are here, and they are as much fun to be with as I remember. Mitchell gave an outstanding presentation about TV Guide this morning, and is selling copies of his wonderful new book here at the show. Speaking of wonderful, the wonderful Carol Ford is again here, too, and it was delightful not only to meet up with her again but to introduce Kevin to her. Kevin has been making new friends and building valuable connections for his own project, and it’s been fun showing a first-time attendee around.
I’ve been sort of frugal in the vendor room. My top-dollar purchases have been books, because you never have enough of those. Most of the rest have been little items, typically no more than $10 each; stuff like soundtrack LPs (Victory at Sea in Jazz was something I just couldn’t pass up) and odd paper ephemera. But I did find a nice copy of a TV Guide I just wrote about the other day, and when I’m back home maybe I’ll show you something more vivid than the murky microfilm scan I presented earlier.
I’ll be back downstairs in a little bit (no way I’m missing the WKRP reunion presentation), but I did want to share an update. I’m here one more day, and then headed back home early Saturday morning. Once I’m back home, expect an update in full, including some photos, perhaps. Stay tuned!
In November 1955 Mad magazine trained its sights on Today. The result was The Dave Garrowunway Show, a spoof that gleefully skewered the program’s conventions. Dave not only loved the piece, but talked about it on the air and recommended the Today audience check it out.
Obviously I can’t post the whole piece here (besides, the version I have is the reformatted version printed in the paperback The Brothers Mad, and it doesn’t look anywhere as good as the magazine version). But the image above, the work of the great Jack Davis, should give you an idea of how deliciously off-the-wall The Dave Garrowunway Show is.
Dave confessed that his one talent in the kitchen was making a New Orleans Remoulade, which he liked to make and serve on shrimp when they had company over for dinner and conversation.
