My colleague Brandon alerted me to a nifty flashback item on the Saturday Evening Post‘s website. In February 1956, the Post published an article under Garroway’s byline (well, an “as told to” byline, at least) titled “I Lead a Goofy Life.” In it, Dave talked about the strange occurrences that happen when you host an early-morning program, set in a big fishbowl of a studio, in which your assistants include a Miss America and a young chimpanzee. Better still, there’s a link to the entire article, viewable in its original layout, at the bottom of the entry. It’s a fun article. Go check it out.
Charles Van Doren (left) with Jack Lescoulie and Dave Garroway in Paris, 1959. (NBC photo)
Charles Van Doren passed away this week at age 93. No matter what else he accomplished in those years, he is remembered forever for a decision he made in 1956, at age 30, to be a contestant on the television quiz show Twenty One. The 14 weeks he spent sealed in an isolation booth on live television, answering questions about anything under the sun, made him a very famous man. He was respected, admired, and even became something of a national crush – a charming young man with all the answers.
Or so it seemed. In late 1959 he confessed before a House committee that he had been given answers on Twenty One. And after his admission, Van Doren spent the next six decades in a sort of exile. Instead of celebrity, Van Doren labored in the world of the mind, working as an author and editor, doing some teaching, and trying his best to build a good life. He didn’t like to comment on his moment of celebrity, despite numerous attempts by many parties to get him to talk or to participate in the making of documentaries or feature films. Not until 2008 did he tell his side of the story, when he wrote an essay for The New Yorker.1
Charles Van Doren is so often remembered for his association with Twenty One that it’s easy to overlook what immediately followed his time on the quiz show. NBC, eager to capitalize on the appeal this brainy young man from an intellectual family could bring to the network, signed Van Doren to a three-year contract worth $50,000 a year. He would advise the network on public service and educational matters. And in that capacity, he eventually found himself part of Dave Garroway’s team on Today.
As Van Doren recalled it, NBC News was given the task of finding him something to do, but not much seemed to stick. A stint writing radio newsbreaks didn’t work, and an assignment to help out in the Washington bureau became a minor disaster. But while those chores didn’t work out, Van Doren fared much better as a contributor to programs such as Wide Wide World, where a longer-form style and a more philosophical approach let him play to his strengths. In time Van Doren became what he called a “semi-regular” on the program, and it led to his opportunity with Today.2
At the time Van Doren started on the program, Today was still presented live. He had to get up each morning at five to be ready to go on the air for two hours. Then he had to write the next day’s segment, and then take the subway to Columbia University for his regular teaching job, “where my sudden celebrity seemed to impress no one.”
NBC photo
As Van Doren remembered, he was initially awkward on Today. But Garroway eventually gave him five minutes each day for a cultural and literary segment, and on Friday Van Doren would read some of the great poems and provide some insight about their authors. Other times he might provide a brief lesson on something like non-Euclidean geometry. The segments were well-received by the audience, and by Garroway.
But all the while, stories were circulating that the big-money quiz shows had been rigged, and in 1958 an incident on another program prompted a full-blown investigation. Van Doren maintained his innocence, both before a Manhattan grand jury and before the Today audience. On the air he insisted, “I myself was never given any answers or told any questions beforehand,” and he likewise insisted his fellow contestants had received no similar coaching. And all seemed well in the world of Today.
One morning in August 1959, as Van Doren reviewed some notes just after the program went off the air, a young Congressional investigator introduced himself. Richard Goodwin3 was working for a House committee that was looking into the quiz shows and planned to hold hearings. Goodwin told Van Doren that the grand jury testimony of the contestant Van Doren had defeated to become champion on Twenty One contradicted Van Doren’s own testimony, and that two of the show’s producers had come back to the grand jury and confirmed the contestant’s assertion. Goodwin and Van Doren adjourned to an empty office, where Van Doren learned that other contestants had lied. “From all that he said, I realized that the committee wanted my story to come out at hearings in Washington,” Van Doren later wrote. Goodwin advised Van Doren that it would be best if he said nothing to anybody.4
A month later things started to happen. Van Doren had been waiting to learn if NBC would renew his contract. His agent insisted NBC was just waiting for the quiz investigations to blow over. “There’s no problem, is there?” his agent asked. But Van Doren sensed that NBC executives were feeling uneasy. On October 9, he was suspended from Today. In late October, he and another Twenty One contestant returned to the grand jury and made what the district attorney called “substantial changes” to their original statements. Soon, Van Doren’s testimony to the House committee was scheduled for Monday, November 2. As all this played out, thousands of viewers wrote to NBC and pleaded for Van Doren’s reinstatement. Some letters asked when Garroway would say something about the situation. He would, but events would intervene.
On November 2, Van Doren made a public confession before the House committee. The next day, NBC terminated its contract with him.
That afternoon, as Today was being recorded for the next morning’s broadcast5, Garroway finally spoke. In a five-minute talk, Garroway spoke of Van Doren as being part of “a little family on this show,” of the bonds that form when you’re doing a show in the early hours of the morning, and that while he could never defend anything Van Doren had done wrong on the quiz show, he would remember the cultural pieces and philosophical essays, the friendship he had built with Van Doren and his family. “What do you want me to say?” Garroway asked, as he held back sobs. “I can only say I’m heartsick.”6 After the segment ended, an overcome Garroway had to leave, and Jack Lescoulie informed viewers that “Dave has gone home.”
Inside NBC there was some deliberation over whether it would be appropriate to show Garroway’s emotional essay about Van Doren. But producer Bob Bendick believed that running a program as recorded was essential to the show’s credibility.7 Therefore, Garroway’s teary farewell to Charles Van Doren was aired that morning, made headlines that afternoon, and was even featured in Life Magazine’s look at the aftermath of Van Doren’s confession.
The revelation that Garroway’s tearful farewell had been pre-recorded also brought fire. Critic Jack Gould slammed the “misuse of video tape recordings” as another “depressing development” in the quiz show scandal. Gould wrote that one could sympathize with Garroway’s emotions, but upon learning that the whole thing had been recorded and kept overnight to be put on the air, “there can only be one thing to say: Why?” Henry Lee of the New York Daily News wrote that NBC’s reluctance to admit Garroway’s tears were prerecorded “was TV’s fitting farewell to Charley.”
What happened to the relationship between Charles Van Doren and Dave Garroway? As Van Doren remembered, they wrote to one another a few times but eventually fell out of touch.
As for Charles Van Doren himself, the immediate aftermath of his confession meant the loss of his NBC job and his teaching job at Columbia University. He spent the remainder of his life keeping a much lower profile, finding fulfillment in being an author, editor, teacher and scholar. He turned down requests to take part in projects related to the quiz show scandals. In retirement he found happiness, living with his wife in an old house that had been in the family for a long time, finding joy in being a parent and a grandparent.
In these times we look back on the sins of Charles Van Doren and other quiz show contestants, and the whole matter seems…quaint.8 And others can say more, much more eloquently than I ever can, about how he took his lumps and retreated, to rebuild a life with some kind of dignity. But let’s take a moment to remember him as a sometimes-overlooked member of that little family on Today.
SOURCES:
Steven Battaglio, From Yesterday To Today. Philadelphia: Running Press, 2011.
“Dave Garroway Heartbroken Over Van’s Disgrace.” Monroe (La.) News-Star 4 Nov 1959: 10.
“Garroway Cries Over Van Doren.” Pittsburgh Press 4 Nov 1959: 4.
Jack Gould, “Contempt for Law Is Most Sickening Part of Scandal.” Corpus Christi Caller-Times 8 Nov 1959: 78.
Robert Metz, The Today Show. Chicago: Playboy Press, 1977.
Gordon T. Mills, “The Way I See It….” Burlington (Vt.) Free Press 7 Nov 1959: 12.
Charles Van Doren, “All the Answers.” The New Yorker 28 July 2008.
We’ve mentioned from time to time how Dave Garroway was much in demand as a spokesman. But while much has been said and written about it, you don’t often get to see him practice the salesmanship skills that made him so appealing to sponsors. There’s just so little surviving material from those times.
Thanks to the Internet Archive (and also with thanks to Brandon for bringing this film to my attention!), we now have a few minutes of Dave displaying his unique style of one-on-one messaging. From 1960, here’s a film from Watkins Products introducing its newest salesman, one with a remarkable ability to call on thousands of homes at once. More than anything else I’ve seen, this really captures just how good Dave was as a spokesman. Watch it, and enjoy.
The other day I was talking with a colleague about the realities of television production and how being in charge means handling unforeseen circumstances with decisiveness and dispatch…especially on a live show. It reminded me of a story Charlie Andrews (Dave’s favorite writer and best friend) told in an oral history interview. Since nobody could tell it as well as he does, listen to Charlie talk about a live commercial9 that came very close to going off the rails, and learn for yourself what separates the professionals from the rest:
It’s a little hard to think these days about Dave Garroway as the ubiquitous face of NBC – especially since if you ask the average person who Dave Garroway was, they’ll probably give you a blank expression. But at a certain point in the 1950s, Dave was everywhere – not only five days a week on Today, not only in a weekly prime-time program, not only in numerous cameo appearances on other programs, but also on radio.
In March 1954 rumors began to circulate that Dave was working on a weekly two-hour program for NBC Radio. At first it was thought the program would air on Fridays, but by early April NBC had slated it for Sundays. It would be titled, appropriately, Sunday With Garroway. Jim Fleming, who had been Today‘s original news editor, would help with the program. NBC announced that the program would feature live and recorded interviews, news and recorded music. Fleming would provide news updates at intervals during the program.
The bulk of the program was pre-recorded, except for Fleming’s late news inserts. NBC provided Garroway with “a private studio” that was kept ready at all times. Garroway could come to the studio to record material after his Today duties were done. “If a new idea occurs later, he’ll return. By this piece-meal method he can fit the program into his busy day without too much strain.” Garroway insisted that the program wasn’t meant to compete with Today, or be a disc-jockey program, but “a magazine of the air with a news format.”NBC characterized the series as “all about topical things which arise during the week.”
The debut program, on April 18, would feature the ringing of the bells in Boston’s Old North Church; an interview with Malcolm Muggeridge of the English humor magazine Punch; a piece about the opening of Japan’s baseball season, complete with play-by-play of a game taking place in Tokyo and a Japanese recording of “Casey at the Bat”; visits from Gene Fowler, Billy Rose, and Carol Channing; and a discussion with NBC reporter Earl Godwin. Win Fanning of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette wrote, “The net says the show will be something like its TV Today, on which Garroway also officiates from 7 to 9 a.m. daily. Thus, if you have a TV set and a radio you need never fear being without Garroway – Loudly sing cuckoo.” As it happened, Sunday would even include highlights from that week’s Today programs.
As an example, the first hour of the May 2, 1954 edition began with a quick look at the headlines by Jim Fleming, then went into a comic sketch with Charlie Andrews based on news about the fling between playboy Porfirio Rubirosa and Zsa Zsa Gabor; an interview with Nebraska Senator Eva Bowring; a visit with Gisele Mackenzie of Your Hit Parade, featuring a few of her hit recordings; a clip from a Today program from the previous week in which Dave and Jack Lescoulie demonstrated a solar battery unit developed by Bell Labs; a visit with Billy Gaxton and a commemoration of the closing and demolition of the Center Theater at Rockefeller Center; and a (live) news update from Jim Fleming.10 The second hour began by exploring the theme of man’s survival in the age of the H-Bomb and featured a conversation with Dr. A. Powell Davies of All Souls Church, a long-distance conversation with classical scholar Dr. Gilbert Murray of Oxford University, and excerpts from a speech by Atomic Energy Commission chairman Lewis Strauss. The second half of the second hour featured an extended visit with drummer Gene Krupa, during which the entirety of the original “Sing, Sing, Sing” was played.
Sometimes the programs got profound, with interviews with the likes of Bertrand Russell, United Nations Secretary-General Trygve Lie, or author Aldous Huxley. Sometimes the content took a distinctive turn toward entertainment, with guests such as Eddy Arnold, William Holden, Helen Hayes or Liberace. And sometimes Garroway’s guests had a distinctively personal angle. On the May 9 program, one of his guests was Pat Kelly, supervisor of NBC’s announcers. During Kelly’s visit, Garroway re-enacted his first audition with NBC.11
Cincinnati radio/TV critic Magee Adams characterized Garroway’s program as not “the kind of thing that keeps ears glued to loudspeakers. But, taken in judicious doses, it is pleasanter listening than the glorified deejay show it might be suspected of resembling.” Adams wrote that the easygoing Garroway style dominated the program, leading to a “mellow, don’t take it too big, mood,” and added, “Two hours of this could leave dialers slumped as deep in their chairs as Garroway. But it can be nibbled at random with an excellent chance of hitting a tasty tidbit.” But within weeks Adams had soured on the program, saying it “bears less and less resemblance to major evening programming as it goes along” and finding fault not with Garroway or the individual segments, but “the uneasy sense of being left at a loose end. Despite all the diverting snacks, you wind up the two hours with the feeling of having missed a full meal.” Adams lamented the loss of programs like Star Playhouse, and wrote, “The moral seems to be that, for keeping listeners listening, even Dave Garroway is no substitute for major evening programming.” Adams also expressed concern that Garroway was turning the program into a “super-duper deejay affair” with music being played for its own sake, but applauded the program’s eventual shift to interviews “with a minimum of spacer music.”
Sunday with Garroway was a Sunday program only a few months. Effective October 8, it moved to Friday nights, with an appropriate change to its title. Magee Adams again weighed in on the program, calling out for particular praise the Nov. 12 edition of Friday with Garroway, which “for more than 45 minutes…held this dialer’s rapt attention with nothing but interviews.” Those interviews included one with a man who specialized in making recordings of everyday sounds, and another with a man who taped interviews with pioneers from the frontier history of the Southwest. “This showed how much interest can be packed into 45 minutes without a single platter,” Adams wrote. “Besides his skill at interviewing, Garroway was able to do that by tapping the resources of what he aptly called “exciting sound.” Peg Simpson of the Syracuse Post-Standard praised the program for offering “a little of everything – intelligent discussions, intellectual ideas, music, humor and just plain pleasant entertainment,” and detailed a hope that “as the show develops, controversial subjects will play an important part in the programming with qualified exponents of differing views participating.” Language columnist William Morris praised Garroway, whom he called “among the more literate of radio commentators,” and said his Friday programs “constitute just about the best argument for turning off TV and going back to old-fashioned radio.”12
But the days were numbered for Garroway’s weekend radio program. Some of the first inklings came in April 1955 when columnists began writing about an ambitious plan NBC had for a weekend programming service, presenting 40 hours of news, music, live remotes, and anything else that could be presented in sound. This service, which premiered June 12, was known as Monitor. This new concept, another of Pat Weaver’s innovations, ran for nearly 20 years in some form or another and helped breathe new life into network radio. And Dave Garroway was soon signed to be one of Monitor‘s hosts – or, in Weaver-ese, “communicators.” But with the birth of Monitor came the end of Garroway’s weekly show.
Sunday with Garroway and Friday with Garroway have since fallen into the memory hole. It was an unusual program, caught between Garroway’s little 15-minute Dial Dave Garroway and the phenomenon that was “Monitor,” and with wide-ranging content that made the show hard to characterize. But listening to the small amount of it that is available, it remains a very pleasant way to spend a couple hours – Garroway at his unhurried best, at the helm of a program as wide-ranging as the interests of its hosts.13
SOURCES:
Magee Adams, “Radio: Music Listings Shocked Into Popular Classics.” Cincinnati Enquirer, 9 May 1954, 32.
Magee Adams, “Radio: Networks Fighting Outlets On Who Sells Spot Time.” Cincinnati Enquirer, 6 Jun 1954, 30.
Magee Adams, “Look and Listen: Garroway Clicks in Interviews.” Cincinnati Enquirer, 19 Nov 1954, 45.
C.E. Butterfield, “Radio Cuts Costs: Budget Is Problem For Summer Shows.” The Miami News (Miami, Fla.), 10 April 1954, 6.
Art Cullison, “Garroway On New Show,” Akron Beacon Journal, 18 Apr 1954, 22B.
Win Fanning, “Radio-Television,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 13 April 1954, 27.
Bob Foster, “Radio-TV: Hollywood Stunt Man TV Success Story.” The Press-Democrat (Santa Rosa, Calif.), 8 April 1954, 9.
“Garroway Show On Radio Prepared At His Leisure,” The Indianapolis Star, 30 May 1954, 10.
“Garroway To Return To Air In New Program On WFBC,” Greenville (S.C.) News, 18 Apr 1954, 29.
“Look and Listen: New WSAI Forum Notable Fare.” Cincinnati Enquirer, 23 Apr 1954, 35.
“Menotti on KSD: Composer of Amahl ‘Best of All’ Guest.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch 23 Jan 1955, 71.
William Morris, “Words, Wit and Wisdom,” The Decatur Daily Review (Decatur, Ill.), 15 Feb 1955, 6.
“Radio-TV Highlights: Stage Set For Dramatic Action.” Indianapolis Star, 9 May 1954, 19.
Peg Simpson, “Radio and TV: Garroway Series On Friday Nights Good Listening,” The Syracuse Post-Standard, 14 Jan 1955, 30.
On this date in 1952 – also a Monday, no less – Today made its debut. Some 67 years later, it’s one of the most-watched programs on television and has gone on to great popularity and acclaim.
But what did they say about in January 1952? Well, they didn’t quite know what to make of it. I thought it might be fun to collect some of the more interesting comments about that first day, as found in some of the reviews I’ve located.
“If one-fifth the money spent on cameras and technical crews and long distance phone calls and telephoto machines, had been spent instead on writing, research and editing, NBC might have something of value to say between 7 and 9 each morning. I ought to add that Garroway is a very winning, personable and intelligent ‘communicator’ – a title NBC had best just forget – and it seems a shame he has nothing to get his teeth into. If he wants a place to sink his teeth, I suggest Sylvester L. ‘Pat’ Weaver, who dealt this mess, who is largely responsible for ‘the big television’ theory with which NBC is now obsessed, and which may wind up squeezing all the common sense and humanity out of NBC television.”
— John Crosby, New York Herald Tribune
“Big, sprawling, confused, shallow and not quite satisfying…it looked like a command post for an invasion, or where one might be staved off. It was a maze – not a mess. Despite the crowded movement and skein of wires, Buck Rogers whirl of wheels and striking array of electronics, it seemed fairly well orchestrated. Meaning no one fell over anyone else’s feet. It was not so much that this mountain of communications brought forth a TV mouse. Rather, it fostered a whole parade of mice; or maybe ant hills would be the better analogy. Certainly it had all the ant marks – the hurry and scurry visible, the real purpose buried somewhere in the purposeful confusion.”14
— Jack O’Brian, New York Journal-American
“Personally, I liked the show, but I’ll be darned if I’ll look at it – except occasionally. First, it takes about 30 minutes after I get up before my eyes are open wide enough to see anything. Secondly, my morning ablutions usually consume another 30 minutes, and I refuse to lug my TV console into my bathroom’s limited space. Even if I could, it would be too dangerous. I splash around a lot, and if some water hit my cathode tube I might short-circuit myself.”
— Bob Lanigan, Brooklyn Daily Eagle
“NBC has Garroway under contract for TV and they haven’t had a sponsor. So they moved him to New York to put him to work to earn some of their tv money.15 And what did Davey do? He showed the top of the RCA Bldg. in the rain and fog – the parent company of NBC, ‘blowing its top’ because NBC was spending its money so foolishly. The program proved that people like Garroway and his associates can get up at 4:00 a.m. and go to work if the boss says so.”
— Si Steinhauser, Pittsburgh Press
“Dave Garroway will have to pull something better out from behind his glasses than the opening early morning ‘Today’ show if he wants to lure viewers out of their beds or away from their breakfast foods….the program will have to rely considerably on those viewers who won’t be dashing off to work. The persons who only have a few minutes to wash, dress and eat won’t be able to spare much time at the TV set anyway. Offhand, I’d say that the capable Garroway has found the nice, warm beds to be a worthy opponent. I hope not, but don’t be surprised if Dave is kayoed.”
— Art Cullison, Akron Beacon Journal
“When a television program announces you don’t have to watch it, I suppose, reviewers should go into the other room and just listen….It seems to me that this is a fundamental weakness in ‘Today.’ If a program isn’t designed to be watched, it isn’t a TV program. It is more for radio or a party-line telephone….The studio is jammed with teletype machines, long-distance telephone and radio connections, television remote screens, wirephoto machines and at least 7,000 people milling around, mostly in each other’s way. Garroway, who still has his master’s hand at casualness, stands in the middle of this business attempting to keep things under control….Maybe – and just maybe, because it is so unwieldy – the program will work out some of its problems. But my best advice as of yesterday was to follow their advice and not look at the show.”
— John Caldwell, Cincinnati Enquirer
Women have always been an integral part of Today, from the very beginning when Mary Kelly and Estelle Parsons were among the first hires for the program staff and even did some on-camera work. And women even served sometimes as substitute hosts when Dave Garroway was elsewhere. But when women are mentioned in the context of the first decade of Today, it’s often in reference to the Today Girls, the sort of little-sister/next-door-neighbor member of the on-air staff whose role was to bring a little light and a little beauty to the morning’s proceedings. Several famous women carried the Today Girl title, among them Lee Ann Meriwether, Betsy Palmer, Helen O’Connell, Florence Henderson.
But one Today Girl’s path to the seat next to Dave Garroway wasn’t through a pageant, a movie studio or a singing career. Instead, she was promoted from the program staff because Dave Garroway considered her “the perfect woman.” She was a writer, producer, and a keen observer with a sharp wit – and she left us with witty and candid recollections of her eight months on the air and her time working for Dave Garroway. And after she left Today, she went on to a brilliant career as an award-winning writer and producer for television and radio. Today, let’s meet Beryl Pfizer.
A New Jersey native, Pfizer graduated from Hood College with a music degree in 1949. She then moved to New York City to fulfill her dream of living there. Pfizer worked on the staff of Arthur Godfrey’s CBS programs, then joined NBC and worked as a writer on Home. In 1960, she was assigned as a writer on Today. Before long, she ended up getting more than she imagined.
During this period, the Today program was going through writers, producers, and Today Girls at a rapid pace. Things looked placid to the viewers at home, but behind the scenes was what staffers characterized as chaos and uncertainty.16 Dave Garroway’s power and influence as host reached their height just as his personal life was itself a handful (and that will be discussed more in the book, of course, but let’s say that Dave’s tendency to burn the candle at both ends was catching up with him). If the ratings slumped, or if Garroway decided someone didn’t have the magic, that person might find themselves replaced. Author Robert Metz, in his history of Today, wrote that Garroway’s high expectations, forged after years of carrying the show on his back, left him “always looking for someone who could bring perfection to the show.”
The Today Girls were no exception. Pfizer wrote years later that her tally of Today Girls came to 30 during the Garroway years. Sometimes they had left for personal reasons, as Florence Henderson had when she was expecting a child. But other times, “whenever Dave grew restless with the show, or there was any dip in its sales or popularity, they threw out the old Today Girl and got a new one.” And it was under that kind of circumstance that Beryl Pfizer would become one of those thirty.
Dave Garroway and Beryl Pfizer, 1961. (NBC photo)
Dave Garroway had long been fascinated by her. According to one account, he had first seen her on a bus in Manhattan one day and thought she was the perfect woman. But before he could walk up and introduce himself, she disappeared into the crowds walking along the city’s streets. Which left him surprised the day he was in the studio and saw that “perfect woman” show up – turned out, she worked for Today. And before long, that “perfect woman” experienced the glare of the spotlight, promoted to Today Girl.
Pfizer later wrote about her experiences on Today, praising Garroway as a gifted communicator and an observer with an offbeat point of view. But she also remembered his “great ability to inspire rage, just as he had a great ability to inspire loyalty in those around him.” She remembered him as “a disorganizer” with “an incredible ability to create chaos out of order…he would arrive at the studio at the last minute and find fault with everything.” Sometimes he’d reorganize the program at the last minute and have the second hour’s guests on during the first hour, which prompted a frenzy of staffers hurriedly reshuffling things at the last second.
Years later she wrote of the daily journal she kept, recording Garroway’s daily eccentricities, sayings and claims. Sometimes she never knew how to take what she saw and heard: for example, his claim that during his transit from his home to his studio, somebody or something turned his undershorts around backwards. Or the morning “DG came back to desk, dipped hairbrush in tea, brushed hair, then drank some of the tea.” Pfizer wrote that staffers sometimes called him “Big Spooky” because of his fascination with strange happenings.
If Garroway’s antics weren’t enough, Pfizer found being an on-camera personality its own handful. She wrote a 1961 TV Guide article about how her seven-month on-air tenure was marked, from beginning to end, by others’ constant obsessions with how she looked on television. Everyone from the makeup man to the producer, the lighting director, and others on the staff had some idea of something she should change: make her upper lip appear thicker, change her hairstyle, make her chin look less pointed or her cheekbones less prominent. If it wasn’t that, others were suggesting changes to her wardrobe. The publicity photographer even suggested she wear a set of falsies that he kept in his desk. And as if the comments from program staff weren’t enough, the viewers’ mail brought complaints and suggestions of their own.17
And, she wrote, one day she took all this to heart, and the day she was doing everything properly, in came a letter from the NBC Talent Department notifying her that she was being dismissed from the program. She said that although it was well-known that Garroway made those decisions, he hated to be the bad guy and wanted someone else to pin the blame on. She remained on the show for a few weeks after she had been served notice that she wouldn’t be renewed. As she remembered, “General David Sarnoff18 was a guest in the studio one day. Dave turned to me and said, ‘Want to meet the man who fired you?’ I did meet the General, who winked at me and said, ‘My wife and I have coffee with you every morning.’ It was obvious he not only hadn’t fired me, he didn’t even know I was fired.”
But her dismissal from Today didn’t slow Pfizer’s career, and she worked elsewhere for NBC News as a writer and producer, working on convention broadcasts, on NBC Radio’s Monitor service, and even wrote and produced a Pink Panther series for NBC television. Her NBC Radio series The Women’s Program was awarded a commendation from American Women in Radio in Television in 1979, and the following year she won an Emmy for producing Ask NBC News with John Chancellor. Outside broadcasting, she wrote the “Poor Woman’s Almanac” feature for Ladies Home Journal. She also loved being physically active, and was an avid runner and tennis player. She also did volunteer work for a local hospital.
When Dave Garroway died in 1982, she was approached about saying something about him. She found herself choked up “not with sadness, but with rage,” she wrote, for Garroway’s suicide shook her to the core. Recalling how he would turn broadcasts upside down at the last minute, she likened his suicide to “his final act of defiance…here was Old Dave again, taking us off-guard, refusing to let thing go along in any normal, orderly fashion.” She wrote of her belief that his famous benediction of “peace” was “more a personal plea than a political one. After two hours of jousting with his own peculiar talents, his intellectual curiosity, his restless need to depend on gimmicks, his insecurity about his own abilities, he must have said that word in a plea for some inner peace for himself.”19
Beryl Pfizer (right) with Estelle Parsons at a 60th anniversary celebration for Today in 2012. (NBC photo)
Beryl Pfizer lived a long and active life, and stayed in touch with her friends from the broadcast world, attending Today‘s 60th anniversary in 2012. Her friendships extended throughout the industry, and she helped establish a scholarship at Hood in honor of her friend Andy Rooney.
Well into her 80s she remained active, continuing to do volunteer work and being active in her community. She even ran a race only a month or so before she passed away in February 2016 at age 87.20
This entry is a little far afield from our usual focus on Dave Garroway, and Beryl Pfizer was only in his orbit for a brief period. But it’s through her that we get an unusual, perceptive, and unique view of what he was like. Besides that, her story means something to every woman who’s working in mass communications today. It was the Beryl Pfizers of the world, blazing a path in times that weren’t the easiest, that made it possible for all of us to do what we do. All of us owe something to her.
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.21 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.22
Sinclair’s boss had assigned him to spend time with the Cunningham and Walsh agency23 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 Hall24, 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.”25 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.26 “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.”
Today is Election Day here in the States, and all of us here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters are gonna go to the polls and do our civic duty. (We certainly hope you’ll do the same.) I’ll be spending the evening helping some students put some local election returns on our little radio station. My hope is that the local results will come in fairly quickly, we can wrap up our coverage at a reasonable hour, and we won’t end up with our own version of what happened on the night of November 8, 1960, when – as many of you know – things literally went all night and into the next day.
Many years ago the A&E cable network (back when you could tell the name stood for “Arts and Entertainment”) carried a two-hour highlights package of NBC’s coverage of that election. It’s really interesting to watch; you get to see Chet Huntley and David Brinkley in prime form, broadcasting from their perch above Studio 8H; you get to see John Chancellor and Sander Vanocur and Frank McGee and Merrill Mueller anchoring the regional desks; you get some really cool Hjalmar Hermanson set design, including the trademark X-shaped anchor desk; and you get all sorts of period-appropriate fun, including Richard Harkness minding a snazzy RCA computer that’s worked into the coverage as a neat bit of corporate synergy. It’s a good way to spend a slow afternoon. And as it becomes apparent the story’s not going to end any time soon, you get to see the anchors and correspondents deal with the fact they’re getting tired and nothing is happening.
But when the story stretches into the next morning, there’s a really nifty surprise, because look who stops by the aerie high over 8H:
(Bonus content! For another view from a little later, here you go.)
You’re familiar, no doubt, with the home game versions of popular television series, especially game shows (a natural enough tie-in). But you wouldn’t think Today would lend itself to a board game. Well, think again. Thanks to the good folks at Board Game Geek, here’s two attempts to bring the fun and excitement of America’s top-rated morning program to the family room: the original version, complete with nifty cameras and a set of chimes, and a 1960 treatment that uses cards instead. Enjoy! (And having produced a couple of television programs, if only it were as fun and exciting as a board game….)
:: We’ve been quiet here the last couple weeks. Much of it was work (and a lot’s been on my plate there), some of it was a trip that took place last weekend, and some of it has been other things not really of interest here. All of it has conspired to poke some holes in my schedule. Don’t, however, take this to mean there hasn’t been progress on the Dave Garroway project. Far from it. While I don’t want to count any unhatched chickens, some very good things may be in the works, and when it’s appropriate for me to do so, I will share. As always, stay tuned.
The debut program, on April 18, would feature the ringing of the bells in Boston’s Old North Church; an interview with Malcolm Muggeridge of the English humor magazine Punch; a piece about the opening of Japan’s baseball season, complete with play-by-play of a game taking place in Tokyo and a Japanese recording of “Casey at the Bat”; visits from Gene Fowler, Billy Rose, and Carol Channing; and a discussion with NBC reporter Earl Godwin. Win Fanning of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette wrote, “The net says the show will be something like its TV Today, on which Garroway also officiates from 7 to 9 a.m. daily. Thus, if you have a TV set and a radio you need never fear being without Garroway – Loudly sing cuckoo.” As it happened, Sunday would even include highlights from that week’s Today programs.
On this date in 1952 – also a Monday, no less – Today made its debut. Some 67 years later, it’s one of the most-watched programs on television and has gone on to great popularity and acclaim.
