By early 1954 Today was doing well. Part of it came from the program finding its focus. Part of it came from the addition of J. Fred Muggs to the program. But to the executives whose decisions meant life or death for a television program, what mattered was the revenue. And thanks to a talented and motivated sales staff, Today had become a solid and successful buy for advertisers of all sorts – many of whom wanted Dave Garroway to do the commercials for them.1 And thanks to Sponsor Magazine senior editor Charles Sinclair, who was given an unusual assignment in early 1954, we have an inside glimpse into the advertising aspect of Today – and of what it was like on the inside during an average day’s routine.2
Sinclair’s boss had assigned him to spend time with the Cunningham and Walsh agency3 and write about what the average agency man went through in a week. His very first assignment? Assisting with the live spots that the E.R. Squibb company had purchased on Today. So at 5:30 on Monday morning, he was shivering outside the Exhibition Hall4, waiting for the account’s supervisor, Tom De Huff, to arrive. When he did, a few minutes later, the two entered the building. “Garroway had just arrived and was surrounded, like a Queen Bee, by a covey of production coordinators, sports writers, newsmen and technical men,” Sinclair noted.
Garroway with Charles Sinclair (center) and agency rep Tom De Huff. (Sponsor Magazine photo)
Sinclair and De Huff walked down the long ramp to the downstairs reception room, near the control room. He noted “a long table around which sat half a dozen people drinking coffee poured by a white-coated waiter everyone called ‘Major.'” De Huff, who knew the program’s customs, explained that this was known as the “Telop One Club.”5 Over coffee and cigarettes, they discussed the spots Garroway would do for Squibb products. Dick Jackson, the network’s senior unit manager for Today, soon joined them and said the spots for Squibb appeared to be simple enough. “That’s a break for us today because we’re loaded to the top,” Jackson said, naming at least seven major clients who had booked time on the broadcast.6 “We think Garroway works best when there are no elaborate gimmicks, no tricky cues and no fancy art.”
When De Huff was a little concerned how the package would look on television, Jackson took the package upstairs and the two ad men went down the hall to a nearby viewing room to watch the camera check. In the room were a couple of representatives from other agencies. One of them, a pretty young girl, said she thought the whole thing was a lot of fun. “Not if you have to come in from Westport,” grumbled the other ad rep, fighting off drowsiness at ten after six. Over the monitors in the screening room the men watched Garroway rehearse each commercial in the lineup. He soon got to the Squibb spots, and they noted with approval the way Garroway read the copy and displayed the products.
At seven the program began, and after a news break the Squibb commercial went as scheduled, with no surprises. Sinclair told De Huff that he’d hate to be up at 4:30 each day “just to play nursemaid to a minute’s worth of commercial.” De Huff replied that he only had to be there about two times a month, when Squibb had a new product or a new pitch. “The rest of the time we let Garroway do the commercial in his own style.” He then suggested the two adjourn for some breakfast. “It was 10 minutes after eight,” Sinclair wrote. “The sun was up, people on their way to work were staring through the huge glass windows at Garroway; the Telop One Club was in full swing.”
Our journey through TV Guide‘s examinations of Dave Garroway continues on. Today’s piece examines a big and slightly controversial change at how his flagship broadcast was produced.
TV Guide photo
“Garroway No Longer Will Work By Dawn’s Early Light” read the headline in the August 1, 1959 TV Guide. “Thanks to tape, Dave will be able to live like most of us,” read the sub-head. NBC would begin videotaping each Today program the preceding afternoon starting in September.
Producer Bob Bendick told TV Guide the change would allow more scope. “There are more things happening at 4 in the afternoon than at 7 in the morning,” he said. “We’ll be able to cover many stories that we could never do before, including activities on the West Coast.”
Garroway and most of his staff were reportedly happy with the change, though they would miss the amusing little things that could happen when guests had to be awakened to be on the program. Dave told a story of when production assistant Estelle Parsons was sent to pick up Ava Gardner at her hotel, only to find Gardner had locked the doors and refused to answer through any means Parsons tried. “So Estelle returned to the studio and we put her on camera to impersonate Ava,” Garroway said. “She did a beautiful job.”
TV Guide photo
In another instance, Garroway remembered when the United States Olympic weightlifting team appeared on the program. Before the program, they asked for some coffee. Five minutes later, one of them “sheepishly” asked an attendant for help…because he couldn’t pull the stopper from the coffee jug. The attendant popped it right out. “At least we won’t be serving so much coffee when we move to afternoons,” Garroway laughed. Other incidents, including the morning George Jessel foiled an invitation for Harry Truman to come in, were mentioned.1
Bendick explained that an afternoon taping would allow the staff to keep a better grip on what’s going on. He explained that at 7 a.m., they could never get a good report on what was going on in Congress. “At 4 p.m., Congress is in session. We hope to be able to move our cameras someday right into the Senate corridors, into committee rooms.” Afternoon tapings might also open opportunities for Garroway to go on location – for instance, to a Broadway theater to talk with performers while an afternoon rehearsal was underway. Likewise, they could drop in on baseball or football games in progress, with Jack Lescoulie covering them. “And if we want to interview a baseball personality such as Casey Stengel or Yogi Berra, think how much better it will be for Jack to talk to them at Yankee Stadium. Until now, we had to invite them to visit our studio at 7 a.m,” Bendick said.
While the bulk of the program would be taped, the periodic news reports from Frank Blair would continue to be done live. Bendick promised that if a big story broke during the night, “we’ll be prepared to go live with the entire show,” with the entire staff notified to show up and go on live.
The article stated Garroway and the staff saw the benefits of videotaping during Today‘s visit to Paris. They also learned that it was better to do the entire program straight through, as if being done live, rather than taping segments out of sequence and assembling them for broadcast.
One more issue Bendick hoped the move would solve was the search for a new “women’s editor.” Betsy Palmer had left the show some months before, and the early hours played a role in her departure. Several women had tried out for the role after Palmer’s departure. Bendick hoped an afternoon taping might make an aspirant more likely to stay on, which meant “her personal and professional lives will not have to conflict.” He noted, however, that “no girl who has auditioned has complained that the 7 a.m. starting time was too rough.” Bendick also said they’d know when they’d found the right girl: “All the meters in the place will go ‘boing’ at the same time.”
Jack Lescoulie had just settled into his new job at CBS when an opportunity came to audition as announcer for a new early-morning program NBC was putting together. Lescoulie tried out for the job and was quickly hired. On January 14, 1952, his was the first voice that viewers heard as the new Today program made its debut.
Lescoulie’s role was not that well-defined at first. “When I first went to work on Today, I did not have a strong role,” he said. “I did the announcing at the top of the program and at the end of the breaks and that was it.” Surviving footage from Today‘s early programs bears this out; on the first program, for example, Lescoulie mostly does the announcements, occasionally interacts with people on the set, and does a sports-related report near the end of the second hour.
In his search for the right role on the program, Lescoulie did some research. “Since Today was designed to be a television newspaper, I went to the city room of a New York newspaper to observe,” he said. “While there, I found a young man who used to come and just kid everybody, and no one seemed to resent it. When I tried that on the set it worked beautifully, and did for many years.”
Lescoulie with Frank Blair, Dave Garroway and J. Fred Muggs (NBC photo)
Lescoulie had battled some doubts, as well. “Frankly, I didn’t think I could make it [in television],” he said. “I believed I was unphotogenic. But suddenly there I was, the third man between Dave Garroway and Frank Blair.1 I knew if I were to make it on the show, I’d not only have to blend with the personalities of those two men but create one of my own. So I became the smiling, mischievous clown, the good-natured everyman. It worked.” Although Lescoulie would later wonder if that on-screen persona had limited his opportunities, it was key to a long-lasting relationship with Today, and a style that drew appreciation from viewers.
NBC photo
Lescoulie’s abilities also drew appreciation from the program’s “master communicator,” Dave Garroway, who placed an unusual amount of trust in him. “There was a great rapport” between the two men, Lescoulie recalled. “Garroway told me several times that if I felt an interview or particular segment on the program was dying, I should step in and ‘save’ it.” That’s how Lescoulie came to be known as “the saver.”2
Lescoulie in a fencing match on the “Today” program (NBC photo)
And it was in those years Lescoulie became the member of the Today team whose job it was to do anything for the cameras. At the Bronx Zoo, he wrestled a walrus named Herbert (who won, best two falls), and walked into a penguin cage and asked a penguin what brand of cigarette it smoked.3 He let an archer shoot an arrow off his head, William Tell-style. He played opposite Jayne Mansfield in an on-set scene from Cleopatra. He scrimmaged with the New York Football Giants. He faced off against Olympic athletes in their specialties, including water polo. Once he was sent to Palisades Park for a segment on the kiddie rides. “That almost did me up, and I was dizzy for three days,” he said. Almost as demanding was the segment tied to a national magazine feature in which Lescoulie had to eat six different breakfasts in succession and render a verdict on which was best. “The whole project just ruined my lunch that day,” he said. Some of the demands of the role led him to muse to a reporter that “reporting bombing raids was rather placid” by comparison.
Yet Today wasn’t the only outlet for Lescoulie’s talent. He was in demand as an announcer, too. He did advertisements on the Milton Berle program in 1954 and 1955, and was also sought after to be the voice of several products. Lescoulie knew his own value and was careful about the jobs he accepted. “It’s not a secret that I’ve always played the game rough, and not been easy to get,” he said. “I take on only a few accounts.” That care ended up making him one of the highest-paid announcers in the business.
But one job Lescoulie was happy to take on was being the announcer for his friend Jackie Gleason, who years before had promised, “Someday I’ll be the greatest and you’ll be with me.” From 1952 to 1959 Lescoulie was the voice of Gleason’s programs. “The Great One” placed complete trust in Lescoulie. One night, a piece of scenery fell backstage. Without a second’s hesitation, Gleason told Lescoulie, “Ad lib three minutes while I find out what’s happening back there.” And Gleason insisted that Lescoulie be the voice of his program, not of its commercials. “I want you,” he said. “Let the sponsor get his own man.” NBC had considered asking Lescoulie to sever his association with Gleason because he was on a competing network, but Lescoulie pointed out that he didn’t have a contract with NBC, instead working on a week-to-week basis.4
As if that wasn’t enough work, in July 1956 Lescoulie began hosting a Saturday sports interview program called Meet The Champions. With all these duties – five days a week on Today, his work for Gleason, hosting the Saturday program, and doing advertisements – Lescoulie later reflected that “I was seen by more people than the president.”
But in January 1957, Lescoulie left Today to enter the realm of late night. When Steve Allen left Tonight, NBC restyled the program into a live, roving look at the country’s nightlife. The new Tonight! America After Dark promised live remotes from different points around the country to see what was going on. It took cues from Today, even originating from the RCA Exhibition Hall. And Jack Lescoulie was signed to host the program.
With Judy Johnson on the “Tonight!”/”Today” set (NBC photo)
Unfortunately, the new format was an almost instant flop. Two months in, Lescoulie insisted the program still had a chance, stating that he took the job because he believed in the show and still did, writing that critics’ reviews were “unfair” and “hitting below the belt,” and that improvements had been made. Yet he admitted that Dave Garroway was holding open his old slot on Today for him because Dave “is such a good friend” and “wants me back” should Tonight! flop. “That is the way Dave is.” As it happened, Lescoulie was let go from Tonight! in mid-year, and returned to Today on June 24, 1957, just in time to fill in while Garroway took seven weeks off. The next year, he accepted a role as co-host of the quiz program Brains & Brawn.
Lescoulie’s talents weren’t just behind the microphone. In high school band he had played the trombone, and during his years with Gleason the great man had persuaded him to get back into playing it. With a few other notables, Lescoulie played in a little combo. “Garroway plays a very bad set of drums and Gleason plays a very bad trumpet,” he said. “Once in a while we get together at Dave’s house as a Dixieland band.” Sometimes Steve Allen would stop in and play piano or tuba, or Jac Hein5 would sit in on trumpet and drums. And Lescoulie was a good enough amateur golfer to play in matches in the United States and Canada, once scoring a hole in one at his home course, and even playing against Arnold Palmer in 1963.
And even with his lucrative announcing gig, he wanted something more. “Show me an announcer and I’ll show you a frustrated actor or singer,” he said. “Like all other announcers, I just fell into the business. It’s really an illegitimate profession.” He likened himself to a singer or actor who “missed the boat somewhere along the way and took to announcing because they couldn’t get anything better.” That had happened to him, he insisted. “I had a long stretch of unemployment. Ever try to act on an empty stomach?” While announcing and hosting, he still took dancing and vocal lessons, and yearned to “get my teeth into a good part, and I will accept it providing that it’s entirely foreign to the television host you now see on your television screen. I would love to play the meanest heavy I could find.”
There are several treatments of the early days of Today. Some of them are oral histories, some of them reminiscences, some of them as parts of books. Nothing, though, quite matches a contemporary account of Today during the Garroway era. And one of the most interesting, and inadvertently insightful, was printed in the June 1954 Esquire, and it’s a story that has a story of its own.
Esquire photo
“The Man Who Came To Breakfast,” written by Richard Gehman1, is a bird’s-eye view of Today in its second year. There’s some good material about Garroway himself, but he’s not the main focus. Gehman spends a good bit of time on what goes into making an early-morning program work five days a week, the people behind the scenes who made it happen, and the unusual pressures they face.
One issue they faced was how the early morning hours messed up normal daily routine. Staffers complained that their kids didn’t know who they were any longer, that wives had to go to parties alone, that they had difficulty ordering in restaurants because the weird hours meant only breakfast menus were available when the staffers were free.
Another challenge? In the parlance of the day, “nervous tension.” Gehman surveyed a group of Today staffers at Toots Shor’s tavern2, saying they were conspicuous by how they kept checking their watches or a nearby clock. Some had developed nervous tics. Gehman described their routines as a “vicious circle” in which “they get keyed up on the show to such a degree that when they return home even a few drinks won’t help them sleep. Finally, after hours of tossing, they manage to fall into restless comas. The alarm goes off. The moment they get to the studio, the tension begins again. In mid-morning, real fatigue sets in.”
And here’s where the piece gets really interesting, for it touches on a famous part of Garroway lore, and shows it wasn’t exclusively his province: “To offset [the fatigue],” Gehman writes, “they take doses of a compound they call The Doctor, a Dexedrine-and-vitamin stimulant obtained by prescription, widely used by combat crews during the war to forestall fatigue.” The Doctor, Gehman noted, kept them so alert that they couldn’t get to sleep, and it fed a cycle.3
While Gehman noted that staff members seemed to face “a killing grind,” he saw no signs of the strain in Garroway. “He is happy about Today because he feels that it is educational and amusing at once,” but is always looking for ways to make the show better, Gehman wrote. And, apparently, the odd hours agreed with Garroway. Writer Charlie Andrews told Gehman that Garroway didn’t care much for parties but didn’t like to refuse invitations. “Now that he’s got this show, he can always go to a party, have one drink and escape, pleading that he has to go to bed around nine, which is true. It’s perfect for him,” Andrews said.
Gehman describes what happened in the RCA Exhibition Hall as a typical program happened, and for that alone the article is worth seeking out: the four cameras (including one on a platform), the nearby turntables, the array of desks and telephones and teletypes, everything you see in the few preserved kinescopes. But we also meet the writers (including Andrews and Paul Cunningham), directors Jac Hein and Mike Zeamer4 and their several assistants, and go inside the downstairs control room to learn about the particular kind of stress they faced making the program happen.5 We appreciate why, just after each day’s broadcast ended but before the daily post-mortem meeting in the program offices in the RKO Building, the working crew stopped off for a quick decompression at the Hurley and Daly tavern across 49th Street.6 Then it was off to the meeting, which typically lasted to around one in the afternoon.
Then after that, a group of Today staffers, calling itself the “Telop One Club,”7 adjourned to Toots Shor’s for what Mike Zeamer called “the daycap” – as Gehman explained, the daycap “differs from a nightcap in that it is not the last, but the first of several.” The club’s members unwound by telling jokes and airing gripes, and sometimes those sessions turned into impromptu conferences about new ideas for the program. And thus the cycle continued.
There’s one more item of interest in Gehman’s article: he describes the work of “a lovely, scrubbed-faced girl who also takes care of the weather board,” who also “writes the book and magazine reviews as well as serving as decoration on the show, and often gets as much fan mail as Garroway.” That lovely, scrubbed-faced girl was Estelle Parsons. While gathering the material for this article, Gehman struck up a connection with her that eventually culminated in their marriage.8
As television production was being carved from the wilderness, some things worked better than others. Live production was challenging enough in a regular studio with two or three cameras and simple switching from the nearby control room. Throw in additional elements – live remotes, telop cards, film chains, you name it – and the chances of things going wrong went up even more. On Today, one of the most ambitious and technically complicated programs on the air in the early 1950s, flubs were inevitable.
Life Magazine photo
In the early days of Today, the program originated from the RCA Exhibition Hall1, across 49th Street from NBC’s facilities inside 30 Rockefeller Plaza. But while the program was directed from a control room downstairs from the studio floor, additional elements had to originate from inside 30 Rock. And one source of constant angst was the coordination of filmed pieces, which were ordered up from the control room and had to be inserted from inside the main facilities across the street.
In a 1954 Esquire article about Garroway and Today, writer Richard Gehman2 described the challenges of bringing it all together. Sometimes the wrong film came up (Gehman mentioned a morning when Garroway announced, “We take you now to Ambrose Lightship!” and instead a film of the Vienna State Opera appeared). Other times, the timing was off, since the film machine required five seconds to get going up to speed. Gehman noted that if the director didn’t give an on-time cue to the assistant director to tell the film technical director to “roll up” the film machine, viewers might see numbered leader film or an empty screen. “Considering the difficult timing involved,” Gehman wrote, “it is miraculous that such horrors do not appear more often.”
But other times, film goofs weren’t the fault of the control room. Today writer and managing editor Gerald Green3, interviewed by Jeff Kisseloff for the great oral history The Box, told of an ongoing frustration with Garroway and Jim Fleming that led to film problems. In their copy, on-camera talent say certain words that serve as a cue for the control room to roll a particular piece of prerecorded material – appropriately enough, this is called a “roll cue.” Green remembered that he had difficulty getting Garroway or Fleming to read their roll cues as prescribed – instead, they’d ad-lib and since the roll cue wasn’t given, no film would follow. After the program, when they would ask Green what happened to the film, he would reply, “Read your roll cue and you’ll get the film on time.”4
Green remembered that when he was managing editor, he’d watch Today from his home and watch Garroway or Fleming ad-lib, miss the roll cue, and then muse aloud that there was supposed to be film to go with this. Green would shout at his television, “Run it! Run the damn film!”5
All of which led to the evening Green was in the kitchen, and from the den he heard his young daughter yelling. He went in to see what was the matter. In the den, he saw his daughter watching Felix the Cat. Sure enough, she was yelling at the television: “Run it! Run the damn film!”6
We spend a lot of time here talking about the early days of Today, and there’s a couple reasons for that. The first, obviously, is because when you look at the career of Dave Garroway you find a ton of material about his years on that program, and to not talk about it is sort of like talking about Neil Armstrong without mentioning that whole Apollo 11 thing. But it’s also interesting to look at those early days because Today was such a departure from anything else that had come before, and it’s worth seeing how a program we now take for granted brought such responses when it was new. In this installment, we’ll look at how Broadcasting looked at the first few days of Today in its January 21, 1952 issue.
(Before we go any further, it’s only right to thank the amazing online archive at the incredible American Radio History website, where this and a ton of other issues of Broadcasting, along with many other titles, are available for research. Folks like these make historians’ jobs so much easier, and they really deserve an award or ten for doing this stuff.)
The review begins by noting the immense buildup NBC had created around the program, “suggesting that the program would be of greater historical consequence than the invention of the printing press.” After the first few days, however, the review noted “Gutenberg’s reputation is not threatened” – and that the early-morning radio programs Today was meant to rival should not yet be thrown out.
Its main problem, Broadcasting noted, was that it tried to do too much too quickly and set an impossible mission for itself. “No one television show can deliver the contents of the Library of Congress to America’s living rooms and that is just about what its originators envision Today as attempting.” As a result, it reduced news stories to brief headlines, three-minute songs were truncated to a minute’s play, and book segments didn’t go into any appreciable depth. Even the trans-Atlantic reports seemed to do little more than just demonstrate such communications were possible.
The review included this really nifty depiction of the Exhibition Hall studio. (Broadcasting Magazine)
Broadcasting was not impressed with the busy studio, noting its array of clocks (“one showing the time in Calcutta, a hot-bed of interest to Indian viewers”), flashing lights, recorders and other gadgetry “as to suggest it was designed by the producers of Captain Video or Space Cadet.” The busy set with its many occupants milling about would resemble “St. Vitus’ dance brought to the screen were it not for the restorative presence of the man who now saves the show and can, with proper support, establish it as an important television feature.” Broadcasting praised Garroway as “imperturbable” and suggested Today would be successful only if the rest of the program were tuned to more closely match Garroway’s calm demeanor.
The review noted a moment from the January 15 edition that suggested a path Today could take. That morning, Garroway had interviewed New York Daily News drama critic John Chapman about a play that had opened on Broadway the previous night. Chapman told Garroway he hadn’t cared for the play, and explained why. After Chapman expressed his views, Garroway presented a recording made the night before in which theatergoers’ opinions differed from Chapman’s. “This was imaginative,” Broadcasting noted, “and an example of the kind of foresighted thinking that it will be necessary to employ consistently to make this program a success.”
Broadcasting noted that NBC had put a lot of resources into making Today a success, and “it remains only for production genius to figure out how to use it.” The review suggested that Today limit its mission to what it could do well within its allotted two hours, for at its current pace, “it will succeed only in being a costly what-is-it, running a poor second in music and news to radio in the competition for the morning audience.”
In a separate item below the review, Broadcasting noted that on its first day Today claimed a newsbeat, with NBC publicizing that a bulletin on a Northeast Airlines plane that crashed in the East River “scooped all networks and stations.” Broadcasting noted that the “scoopees” presumably included NBC’s New York flagship station WNBT-TV, since East Coast stations left Today at 9:00 AM, while the bulletin was seen only on the additional hour for Central Time Zone viewers.
One final note: In a sidebar, the basic facts about Today included an approximate cost of $35,000 per week. In January 2018, that translates to $327,371.51 per week, which…I somehow doubt would cover the week’s expenses these days.
By November 1953 the big window of the RCA Exhibition Hall had become a popular attraction for visitors to New York, and every once in a while a famous face could be seen looking in on Dave Garroway and his merry group as they made Today happen. But one day, a particularly famous face could be seen looking in from the 49th Street sidewalk – and but for one particular remark, Today could have landed its biggest interview to date.
On Friday, November 13, former president Harry Truman was in New York. Truman, who had been out of office less than a year, was known for the brisk walks he would take each morning. New York was no obstacle to his routine, and that morning he left his hotel for a two-mile stroll around the city. In tow were his old haberdashery store partner, Edward Jacobson, and entertainer George Jessel. Following them were about 15 reporters and photographers, who peppered the former president with questions about current controversies and received Truman’s candid comments in response.
Truman’s path through Midtown brought him along 49th Street, and as he passed through Rockefeller Center he noticed the crowd looking in on the Today program across the street. Intrigued, he crossed in the middle of the block. “I know this is against the law,” the nation’s highest-ranking jaywalker told reporters.
Inside, the program staff noticed Truman at the window, smiling and waving. Cameras were quickly swung around. Somebody scooped up J. Fred Muggs and brought him to the window to see Truman, who smiled. “I’d better get along,” he said. “I don’t want to spoil the show.” Quickly, staffers hurried outside, bringing Muggs along to meet Truman. Truman shook hands with the chimp, but backed away when he tried to put a hand around his shoulders. “I don’t let people get so intimate with me,” the former president quipped. Although Truman drew the line at an embrace, he did sign a baseball for Muggs.
For a moment, Today staffers thought they’d have the interview of the year. A staffer asked Truman and Jessel if they’d step inside to talk with Garroway. Truman sounded receptive to the idea. But Jessel, who had a program on ABC, had other ideas. “The president is too busy and I work for another network,” Jessel said. (Years later, recounting the incident, former Today writer Gerald Green called Jessel “the biggest schmuck that ever lived.”) To the consternation of Today staffers, the retired chief executive and his entourage waved goodbye and wandered on, the hoped-for exclusive gone as quickly as it seemed to appear.
Teletypes inside the RCA Exhibition Hall clattered to life at 5:45 a.m. EST, Wednesday, February 6, 1952, carrying news that Britain’s King George VI died. Today was still in its first month on the air, experimenting to find the right balance of its various tasks – news, weather, sports, music, interviews, reviews and myriad ephemera. But the significance of the king’s death made its own case. The plan for that day’s program was thrown out, and a new one created from scratch.
Dave Garroway points to a headline on the “Today in Two Minutes” board, 9:30 a.m. EST, February 6, 1952. (NBC photo)
In the slim hour available before airtime, the Today crew arranged for remote phone reports from London and Paris, found stock film, and secured live television pickups from Washington. Broadcasting magazine reported the show went on at 7:00 a.m. with Dave Garroway’s announcement of the king’s death. A few moments later, he spoke with NBC correspondent Romney Wheeler, phoning from London. The “Today in Two Minutes” board was updated through the morning with newspaper front pages and wire service photos.
NBC foreign affairs commentator H.V. Kaltenborn was summoned to the Exhibition Hall. He worked with Today news anchor Jim Fleming to provide background information on George VI’s tenure. Coverage continued through the program’s three hours that day. CBS and ABC, having no comparable early-hour network program, aired their first television reports beginning at 10:00 a.m., after Today signed off. It was a coup for the show.
The busy Exhibition Hall during the 9:00 a.m. hour, February 6, 1952. News anchor Jim Fleming is at right, wearing a dark suit. (NBC photo)
As should be no surprise to students of early television, no kinescope of this Today exists, so we’ll never be able to see how it all played out. But accounts that have been written since indicate the cast and crew pulled off their first real test of breaking news and helped solidify the show’s bonafides.
The very first Today program aired on January 14, 1952. The complete program is lost to history, since in the run-up to “T-Day” nobody thought to order a kinescope. All that remains on film are the 7:00-7:29 segment and the segment from roughly 8:44 to 8:58. Many years ago the Today website had a rundown transcribed from the NBC archives, but some segments in the original document were out of sequence, and some other information was missing, incorrect, or didn’t seem to square up somehow.
What is presented below is the result of a years-long effort to reconstruct that first program. The detailed portions are from my notes from the kinescope (which you can watch here), while the rest is reconstructed from the rundown document, from the photographs Peter Stackpole took for Life that morning (many of which are linked below), from contemporary articles, and other sources. I have also embedded a few screen captures (credit: NBC) to illustrate from time to time. This is a living document, and as more information is found this post will be updated. If you have information that will help make this more complete, please share (gently) in the comments or drop us an e-mail.
TODAY – January 14, 1952
7:00 am – 10:00 am Eastern Standard Time
(kinescope begins) 6:59:30: NBC ID 6:59:35:Telop and v/o promo for Richard Harkness and the News 6:59:50: WNBT ID telop/spoken ID
The very first images of Today came from this camera position, which stayed busy that morning. (NBC photo)
7:00:00: Program begins. Jack Lescoulie spoken intro. 7:00:15:Garroway’s “preamble” begins. 7:02: Time stamp and headline crawl begin. Garroway walks to headline board for “Today in Two Minutes.”
NBC photo
7:04: News film of Capt. Carlsen of Flying Enterprise. 7:05: Return to studio; sports stories. Garroway explains when news summaries will be presented during the program. Begins tour of communications center. 7:06: Introduces Jack Lescoulie. Visits with Mary Kelly, who tells him the weather bureau is on the line for him. Garroway shows off Kelly’s electric typewriter. 7:07: Garroway shows off tape recorder and telephoto machine. Visits with Buck Prince, who has Romney Wheeler from London on the line. Also talks to Ed Haaker in Frankfurt. The big story there is the first big snowstorm of the year. “It’s really chilly here today.” Garroway: “You’re not alone. Thank you very much, Ed.” 7:09:Garroway introduces news editor Jim Fleming. 7:10: Garroway shows off wire service machines and wall of newspapers flown in for the program.
Newspapers from around the country. I think that’s Estelle Parsons holding the newspaper. (NBC photo)
7:11: Garroway walks back to telephoto machine and looks at photo – “still wet.” Walks back to his desk. 7:12: First remote – view from top of RCA building.
The first remote gives a view of 30 Rock’s ventilator stacks, but the rainy and cloudy morning prevents seeing much else. (NBC photo)
7:13:Remote from outside Pentagon. Frank Bourgholtzer v/o. Says things aren’t too visible from the Wardman Park Hotel location. Pans right from Pentagon to view of Washington skyline. Cut back to monitor view in New York. 7:13: Remote from Chicago. Jim Hurlbut interviews two Chicago police officers who are sitting in their patrol car. 7:14: In the middle of Hurlbut’s interview, we cut back to the studio. Call over studio PA from control room: “Station break, Dave.” “Oh…recess time, right back!” 7:15: Telop and v/o promo for The Mel Martin Show and WNBT ID. 7:15:Garroway at desk attempts to resume remote to Chicago but cannot get through to Hurlbut (although Hurlbut is visible on monitors with police officers).
Garroway gives up on trying to reach Jim Hurlbut: “Peace, lad.” (NBC photo)
7:23: Garroway walks over and cues Jim Fleming at the newspaper board on far end of communications center. Fleming compares Minneapolis headlines vs. San Francisco headlines. Lescoulie (next to Fleming) marvels that the late headlines from San Francisco would come in via wirephoto so quickly. Garroway comes over and announces “recess time.” 7:24:30: NBC tones. Telop promo for Dave and Charlie. Telop and v/o promo for Lights Out with Frank Gallop. Telop ID for WNBT; v/o promo for Tex and Jinx. V/O ID for WNBT.
NBC photo
7:25: Jack Lescoulie explains what viewers can expect on the program and over the next half-hour. Previews records, upcoming interview with family with son in Korea. Introduces Garroway, who interviews Lescoulie about his background and experiences. 7:27: “Sentimental Journey” fades up. “Recess; right back.” Garroway walks back to desk. 7:27: Film PSA for Treasury Dept./US Savings Bonds. No sound from film; instead, sounds from inside communications center (teletypes, phones, bells, etc). 7:28:Garroway at desk: “I didn’t know there was any sound with that film or I’d have whistled ‘Dixie.’” Remarks that he didn’t hear it over his speaker. Also notes they lost the time at the bottom of the screen and “we’re having some new times made.” 7:29: Garroway does time check, explains program for those just tuning in. Notes people looking in through windows. “Recess time right now for a minute.” 7:29: Telop promo for Richard Harkness and the News.
(end of kinescope segment; until further notice, this is reconstructed from program log sheet and other sources)
“Changing Times” was with “Today” on its first telecast. Kiplinger’s publications remained “Today” sponsors into the 1970s. (NBC photo)
8:44: Garroway does live spot for Changing Times while leaning on desk. Notes that a lady from Brooklyn called in reference to a spot earlier in the program: “Tell Garroway that the penny postcards he’s talking about now cost two cents.” Remarks that’s a sign of changing times. 8:45: NBC chimes/telop promo for Howdy Doody. Film promo for Boston Blackie. V/O promo by Don Pardo. Film ID for WNBT with V/O promo for Kukla, Fran and Ollie. 8:45: Back to studio. Garroway sees he’s on camera – “Oh, I’m talking to a friend! Is that all right?…Mort [Werner, producer], will you tell our cue people that they’re running about three inches high?” Gives time check; throws to Jim Fleming. Fleming gives story just in from Tokyo: US Navy patrol bomber crashed this morning near Yokohama. Recaps Mark Clark story, Douglas will not run for president or VP, attacks in Suez zone, Chinese charges that US planes overflew Manchuria, AEC chairman says we’re still working on H-bomb, new US proposal in Paris about control of A-bomb, Secretary of State Dean Acheson to testify before Senate Foreign Relations Committee today, Iranian prime minister Mohammad Mossadegh refuses to rescind order to close British embassies in Iran next week, economic adviser Leon Keyserling predicts $85 billion US budget for the year, recap of inflammable sweater story, bad weather in Pacific prevents search for survivors of missing freighter. Late bulletin comes in: Capt. Carlsen received a decoration today from the king of Denmark; Fleming notes that he will be honored in NYC Wednesday. Throws back to Garroway: “Brother Garroway, are you there?” 8:46: Garroway is on phone; grins at Fleming. Goes back to phone; asks control room if the mobile units are coming up after “Frenesi.” Asks them to hold “Frenesi” and to go to mobile units first. Cues Frank Blair in Washington. There’s a pause, cue channel chatter audible; picture from Wardman Park comes up, cough over audio. Garroway says he sees Jim Hurlbut in Chicago. Frank Bourgholtzer comes on, identifies himself. Picture shows morning traffic on Connecticut Avenue bridge and Rock Creek Parkway. Bourgholtzer says he’s at the Pentagon. Picture cuts to Pentagon and crowded parking lots there. Bourgholtzer says Ray Scherer is standing in front of the Pentagon, doesn’t know if they can cut to him or if they’ll show the yacht basin. “Sherm, can we have that shot? There we are!” Bourgholtzer notes that some come to work by boat, including Air Force brass from Bolling Field. Pan over parking lots; Bourgholtzer notes some can contain 6-7,000 cars. Bourgholtzer then throws to Ray Scherer, who notes parking lots on Mall side of Pentagon and how quickly they filled up. Notes Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial in distance. Says he expects Secretary of the Army Frank Pace at any moment. Gloomy, overcast morning in Washington. 8:50: Quick view of Pentagon exterior before cuts back to Garroway: “There! We got it that time!” Garroway, smiling, gives quick explanation of how these are some of the tools that will be used on the program to take you to various places, how they can get into just about any place. Cues Jim Hurlbut in Chicago.
NBC photo
8:51: Hurlbut in Chicago, outside the Loop Terminal of the Illinois Central suburban railroad. Shows people coming out of terminal to go to work. Cuts to corner of North Michigan and East Randolph, showing pedestrians and traffic. Hurlbut notes how busy that corner gets during rush hour. Cuts back to Hurlbut outside terminal with people coming out of terminal. Hurlbut notes the fog will be with them all morning long. Cut to view of bridge tower in fog and NBC mobile unit on bridge, panning left. Cut to view of buses waiting for passengers. Cut back to Hurlbut, who wraps with “so, take it away, Dave Garroway.”
The state of the art in 1952. If only this baby could come up for sale in Hemmings the month after I win the lottery. (NBC photo)
8:53: “Thank you, Jim, old friend…and he is that.” Garroway notes Chicago is his old hometown and it looks familiar to him, but NYC is his new hometown and how busy and populated it is. Time check as he cues camera at Grand Central Terminal and Peter Roberts. Shots of commuters arriving as Roberts explains what’s going on. 8:54: Back to Exhibition Hall and Garroway. “We’re going to take a time-out for a short recess at this minute. Be right back, folks.”
There’s no way I was leaving this out. (NBC photo)
8:54: NBC chimes. Telop promo for Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Telop card for Mothers’ March on Polio with Eddie Cantor v/o. Don Pardo v/o repeats phone number. Telop ID for WNBT with Pardo v/o for Ben Grauer’s Seeing is Believing. WNBT verbal ID. 8:55: Lescoulie at desk recaps what program has done thus far and what it intends to do, bringing you top stories “as regularly as coffee is served.” Wire service photos will also be shown. “And, of course, we’ll always have…Dave Garroway!” Garroway standing near desk realizes he’s on, gives time check. Time and headline crawl return to screen. Garroway notes a lady has called and said it’s an interesting program but they haven’t once mentioned Brooklyn. Garroway walks over to Lescoulie, says Jack was telling him something about “a rhubarb between [Roy] Campanella and the Dodgers.” Lescoulie notes the lady calling about the lack of a Brooklyn mention; Garroway taps Lescoulie’s shoulder and says “I just said that.” They laugh about it. 8:56: Lescoulie begins telling story about Campanella’s refusal to have bone chips removed. “Sentimental Journey” comes up and Lescoulie is faded out in middle of story. 8:56: Filmed PSA for Big Brothers of America with Gene Lockhart. “Sentimental Journey” still plays over first few seconds. 8:57: Back to Lescoulie in studio; no audio for first few seconds. Lescoulie recaps his conversation with Campanella about a story that he was holding out on re-signing with the Dodgers for the 1952 season. Campanella debunks story, saying he would return to the Dodgers.
Jack Lescoulie not only smiled between every sentence, but kept smiling while he was talking. It’s truly amazing to watch. (NBC photo)
8:58: Garroway at desk notes they have a box of gadgets. Shows off needle-threading device.
NBC photo
8:59: Garroway notes it’s time to say goodbye to east coast viewers. Notes he wants to stand because he means it sincerely, and notes that the show has a lot of bugs but they will work them out. “Today” super comes up. “Peace.”
Time got away from us here at Garroway At Large World Headquarters, and the Wide Wide Blog has suffered as a result. Last week I had to take a trip to conduct research on my other project. (Maybe I’ll write something about that project in a future post. It’s pretty interesting.)
To make up for my absence, here’s a really big present for you. Perhaps the best way for you to get a glimpse of what the Garroway magic was like, as it happened, is to unplug yourself from the present, journey back to November 1957, and enjoy Garroway and friends in long form. (Note: the title gets it wrong – that’s Kokomo Jr. and not Muggs – but don’t let that distract you.)
But in January 1957, Lescoulie left Today to enter the realm of late night. When Steve Allen left Tonight, NBC restyled the program into a live, roving look at the country’s nightlife. The new Tonight! America After Dark promised live remotes from different points around the country to see what was going on. It took cues from Today, even originating from the RCA Exhibition Hall. And Jack Lescoulie was signed to host the program.
Lescoulie’s talents weren’t just behind the microphone. In high school band he had played the trombone, and during his years with Gleason the great man had persuaded him to get back into playing it. With a few other notables, Lescoulie played in a little combo. “Garroway plays a very bad set of drums and Gleason plays a very bad trumpet,” he said. “Once in a while we get together at Dave’s house as a Dixieland band.” Sometimes Steve Allen would stop in and play piano or tuba, or Jac Hein
By November 1953 the big window of the RCA Exhibition Hall had become a popular attraction for visitors to New York, and every once in a while a famous face could be seen looking in on Dave Garroway and his merry group as they made Today happen. But one day, a particularly famous face could be seen looking in from the 49th Street sidewalk – and but for one particular remark, Today could have landed its biggest interview to date.
