All was well here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters and we were getting ready to present the next installment in our newest series. That’s when the hard drive in our main computer decided to throw a wrench in the works. (Because computers are paid to do that.) A new hard drive is on the way and I’ll have it up and going in a couple days, and better still all the valuable research has been saved through multiple backups, so there’s been no damage to anything (other than my billfold).
Anyway, sorry for the disappointment. We’ll see you next week.
(UPDATE: New hard drive is here and installed, and computer is once again humming away like a busy little kitchen. See you next week.)
As an early star of the national medium, one with a highly distinctive style, a lot of ink was spilled on behalf of Dave Garroway in television journals of the late 1940s and early 1950s. Let’s take a look at some of those pieces the next couple weeks or so, and perhaps that will help us remember just what a big deal Dave Garroway was back then.
TV Guide photo
The first full-length article on Garroway I could find in TV Guide was in the July 10-16, 1953 issue.1 It’s titled “Garroway Today,” and its subhead divulges, “That Chicago Touch Got Him A Penthouse On Fifth Avenue.”2 As was TV Guide‘s custom of the time, the article bore no byline.
The piece begins with an account of the summer day in 1951 when Garroway and his favorite writer and best friend, Charlie Andrews, were vacationing in a small Swiss town. At four in the morning, Garroway received a call from NBC informing him that the sponsor for Garroway At Large had pulled out. This brought the tour to an abrupt end. “Our sorrows melted 12 feet off the Matterhorn,” Garroway said.
TV Guide photo
But the loss of Garroway At Large opened the door for Today, which had debuted to great skepticism but was now a great success. “There’s no argument as to the reason: Dave Garroway.” The article noted that certain segments of the program even drew higher ratings than that of the wildly popular Arthur Godfrey, who was on later in the morning. The writer disagreed with those who compared the two, arguing that while Godfrey worked hard at being the “common man,” Garroway “lives in a world of discovery, of finding new things under the sun.”3
At the same time, the writer noted that Garroway’s more intellectual nature might be working against his wider success, that “he’s managed to build up resentment among some people who fiercely resist any idea that entertainment can be fresh and original,” and that his unusual nature may have put off some major agencies looking for more traditional fare for their sponsors.
The article makes Dave’s life sound busy but happy, noting the $2000 he made each week from Today and the additional income from the daily Dial Dave Garroway radio program, and that Dave liked how Today presented new material each day. One staffer noted that public reception was positive, and that people who thought his Garroway At Large persona was phony had changed their minds when they watched Today and saw they had been seeing the real Garroway all along. The article also notes the recent addition of J. Fred Muggs, and that Garroway was pragmatic about it. He liked that Muggs had raised Today‘s ratings two points, and “if he can help us that way, sure I want to keep him.”
Garroway and Andrews discussed each day the prospect of bringing Garroway At Large back to television, but the article noted it would be a challenge. Not only would they have to locate a sponsor, but several of the old castmembers – Jack Haskell, Connie Russell, Bette Chapel – had gone on to other things, and that only Cliff Norton was in New York.4
Of Dave personally, the article notes that the Garroway of television is much like the real Garroway, only that the latter is “a little shyer off camera.” It noted that Dave was divorced but had been seen in the company of Betty Furness, who had knitted “all of Dave’s present collection of loud Argyle socks.” Still, Dave was apparently in no hurry to get married again.5 Rather, he was more interested in getting Garroway At Large back on the air, and as part of the preparation was trying to get on a diet. “It would seem that the only way to get Garroway at Large back will be to have Garroway not-so-large.”
As I take a moment from other, more pressing chores related to the day job, I’d like to remind y’all of a little presentation that Kevin Doherty and I will be giving at this year’s Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention about Pat Weaver’s great trio of programs – Today, Home and Tonight – and about the magic that Dave Garroway, Arlene Francis, Steve Allen and Jack Paar brought to the homes of viewers nationwide. We have a nifty presentation in the works (as does Friend Of The Blog Mitchell Hadley!), and we’d love the chance to talk to you afterwards. Come on out and join the fun!
Last week I talked a bit about unreliable narrators, the importance of verifying information, and the process a historian must go through to make sure what’s written is as accurate as possible. This week, let’s take a look at this in action with a couple of examples, one that’s kind of related to Garroway and one that isn’t. We’ll handle the non-Garroway example first as a warm-up to how these kinds of myths begin.
Ask anybody about women in 1950s television and the name Betty Furness comes up past a certain point.6 Betty became a presence as a spokesperson for Westinghouse, famously demonstrating new appliances and opening refrigerator doors and so forth on live television. That mention of “refrigerator door” will inevitably get people talking about the night Betty Furness couldn’t get the refrigerator door to open and what a fiasco that was. And it’s a great story…except that Betty Furness wasn’t in town that night, and another lady (June Graham) was filling in for her:
And just so you’ll see the difference, here’s Betty Furness:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3r2uq9ulRU
Now, let’s take a look at a story more directly related to Dave Garroway. And since it’s a story involving J. Fred Muggs, I will have to tell it carefully7, but I will tell it regardless.
There is a story that involves J. Fred Muggs biting Martha Raye. Since it involves Muggs, the assumption is automatically made that the incident happened on Today, and it’s kind of become part of the program’s mythology since many stories are out there of Muggs’ less-than-likable antics as he grew older.8 But what does the evidence tell us?
Well, do a little digging in the stacks and you find the story’s more complicated. You find out that Muggs, who was often a guest on other programs, was doing a guest spot on Martha Raye’s own television program. The incident happened April 17, 1954, as this wire service story published in the following Monday’s Minneapolis Star Tribune (among other papers) outlines:
And Life magazine provided photographic evidence, as well as a write-up, in this article (there are more photos of the Muggs incident a couple or three pages in).
What’s the lesson of it all? It’s that you have to check these things out. And it’s not just in regards to television history; it’s in any form of history.9 Just because a story sounds great doesn’t mean it’s true. It is the job of the historian to sort through all the available evidence (and seek every bit of it humanly possible), then write from that.
– We begin this week with a happy programming note: the Wide Wide Blog is now a member of the Classic TV Blog Association. Learn more about it and find links to many marvelous affiliated blogs here (and I’ll install the blogroll here as soon as I can find a way to make it play happy with the format I use here). It’s an esteemed group (which includes some friends of mine) and I’m happy to have the Wide Wide Blog in among these good folks and their work.
– Another happy note is that the manuscript continues to grow a little more each day. I set a goal of at least 100 words a day on it, and if I don’t get that done, it weighs on me (something about a work ethic that was instilled in me at a tender age). But it continues to grow and I learn new things all the time.
And sometimes, those things aren’t what they seem to be. One challenge a biographer faces is that when you’re dealing with any account, you’re dealing with a limited perspective. Memory does strange things. Four eyewitnesses will have four different accounts. (“Wow, Rashomon was an interesting movie.” “That’s not how I remember it.”)
Sometimes we’re lucky in that we find documentary evidence that tells us how things actually went. For instance, one file contains a typewritten recollection Garroway wrote of that very first morning on Today, the last seconds before the show went on the air. He writes about how he “realized that I had better say something quickly of an inspirational nature, something wise and to the point, preferably with a little humor in it.” And it’s a great account…except what he says he said (“Good morning – it’s Today on NBC”) was nothing like what he actually said. And we know this because the kinescope tells us so:
But other times, we’re not as fortunate. And that’s where the biographer becomes a detective. How much can you find out about the circumstances? What was going on? Can you find newspaper clippings about whatever it is? (I’ll write next week about one particularly famous episode that took on a life of its own, one that has been incorrectly attributed to Today, that a newspaper search finally put the nails in.) Have others written about it? Are there photographs? If it involves a location, do those aspects add up? (Some claims are geographically impossible once you look at a map.) Did the building even exist then? You get the idea.
And sometimes you can’t find a definitive answer. What to do then? Well, sometimes you have to acknowledge the ambiguity. I had to do that in the book I just finished writing, when a family member claimed that the subject of my book had been involved in some covert operations. They were interesting claims and the account in question seemed oddly detailed, but I only had that relative’s claims to go on. All the physical evidence that would have nailed down the claim had disappeared decades before (and sadly, appears to have been thrown out along with other family papers when her children were going through her effects after her passing – not out of malice, not out of covering anything up, but out of one of those things that happens when effects are gone through and discarded after someone passes). The information was too good not to include, but I had to qualify it, acknowledging that it was based on a single source and that only a secondhand account backed it up, and though I found circumstantial evidence in my subject’s surviving papers, it wasn’t the more concrete substantiation I’d love to have had.
This is why history and biography are more difficult to write than they may appear. If it were easy, I could just rewrite the drafts of Garroway’s unfinished autobiography, throw in anecdotes I found from others, and call it done, and my only effort would be the time I put into typing it all up. That might be fun, but what kind of contribution would it be to history? It would be a souvenir, but I’m not sure it would be an accurate reflection of the man and his times. It would frustrate future historians, who look to these kinds of works as references as they write their own new works (and it’s amazing how hard it is to kill an inaccurate story; once it’s committed to print, it’s often taken as gospel, and I’ve seen great historians repeat long-discredited stories in their own works because the works they trusted repeated said stories).
And such a work would be filtered through Garroway’s own perspective, and thus limited – just as we limit our own perspectives when we tell our own stories. And memory being the funny thing it can be, sometimes things don’t add up. I’ve lost track of how often I could have sworn under oath that a thing I remembered went a certain way, only to go back and find irrefutable evidence that it was far different than I recalled.
And that’s part of why the historian and biographer must take a step back, read through claims and stories and verify them, and above all employ good judgment and sound thinking. Then again, that’s just good advice for life, period.
Next week we’ll take a closer look at this concept, using that story I mentioned above as a case study.
Since the purpose behind this whole project is the production of a book, I thought this time I’d talk a little about how books get created. It’s particularly on my mind since, last week, I delivered the final manuscript for the other book project I’ve been working on. (Which opens up my time and attention now for Garroway’s book…now at more than 27,000 words, in case you were wondering.)
NBC photo
At any rate, it doesn’t matter how many volumes you have on the shelf, or how many of them you’ve read in a lifetime. You never really understand the realm of books until you’ve written one – and even then, I’m not sure how much you really understand. From experience I can speak of this, as I’ve been there, and am going through the process twice over as I write this.
The process I’m going through now is different from those I went through for my first two books. My first book was a work for hire for a local organization, and on that job I was author, editor, book designer, layout person…you name it. I had to deliver a ready-to-print file to the company that printed the books. Somehow I made it. The second book was a little more conventional in that I didn’t have to do the layout and such myself, but I still had to put in a whole raft of work.
The book whose manuscript I delivered last week involved, by far, the most formalized and regimented submissions process I’ve dealt with, and perhaps it will give you some insight into what goes into a lot of books you’ll see. I’ll say all this with the caveat that it’s a university-affiliated press (but my book isn’t a textbook; that’s a whole different realm from what I do), and other publishers will have different requirements and benchmarks and so forth, but regardless I hope it will provide some insight from the author’s side of the creation process.
The whole process began some time ago with a proposal to the press’s acquisitions department. I wrote up an outline, submitted a sample chapter (one I thought was especially strong), included a copy of my vitae, and sent all that along with a letter. Different presses will have different requirements for a proposal package, so it’s important you follow those guidelines as closely as possible. It’s easy to write something up that will end up in the reject pile, so take care to follow their instructions closely. (Also, some presses might prefer that you propose only when you have something complete, or close to it.)
It took a little time, as the press’s acquisitions department was fairly busy, but in time I heard back that they were interested in my proposal. Fortunately, the manuscript was mostly complete, and we agreed on a deadline for the first draft. It was June when I heard back, and we settled on early December for the manuscript to be done. I spent the next several months expanding the manuscript, fleshing out all the things I’d wanted to flesh out and fixing all the weak areas I’d found and some other things that had just bothered me in the original. Since the book was an expansion of my doctoral dissertation written in 2001, I had the heart of it already done, but I needed to take out a lot of academic-speak to make the book reader-friendly, and also expand some areas I hadn’t been able to expand on back then. My dissertation had also been written in a hurry (there was a job offer in the balance, as well as my graduate director wanting me to finish before he retired), so it was short. That’s not to mention that a lot of marvelous resources had become available in the decade and a half since, and I also have a perspective on things that I didn’t have then.
By late November 2017 I had expanded a 49,000-word dissertation into about 75,000 words. But that really doesn’t tell the tale, because I’d had to throw out an entire academically-themed chapter of the dissertation (because when you write a dissertation, there’s an academic aspect you have to include, even if you’re not especially happy about it because what you really want to do is tell a story that hadn’t been told), rearrange some other elements and so forth, so I started out with about a 45,000-word basis. I’d edited it and re-edited it, including marking up a paper copy (seriously, you see things differently on paper than you do on the screen, and editing with a pencil gives you kinds of freedom you don’t have with a computer), and it was ready for the next stage in the process. Per the press’s request, I delivered a paper copy of the manuscript and an electronic version.
The next several months were quiet. Why? The press sent it out for external review. In this case, two people who read manuscripts for the press reviewed it and answered some questions for the press. It’s fundamental stuff, like “do you find it original?” and “does it make a contribution to the field?” And, of course, the big one: “Should the press publish this book?”
This can take a while. It was mid-April before I heard back. Fortunately, the news couldn’t have been happier: both were positive reviews. One was glowingly so. The other recommended some areas for clarification and improvement – easy enough to fix. I was asked to write responses to the reviewers’ comments and submit them as soon as I could. So I did.
With those positive recommendations, the press decided to move ahead. We engaged in a little bit of negotiation and came to terms on a contract, decided on a delivery date, and other such terms. Easy enough. I signed the contract and returned it, then spent the next few weeks tying up loose ends: chasing last-minute leads, getting the archival photos I needed, nailing down permissions to use material from archives, and giving things one last really good read. (Which is more difficult than you’d think, especially if you tend to tweak your copy as you read. I finally had to turn it into a PDF, which I couldn’t fiddle with as I read, and made notes about edits on paper.)
So last week, I submitted the final package to the publisher: a flash drive with the final manuscript (more than 78,000 words, along with about 14,000 more words of frontmatter, notes and bibliography, and image captions) and ten high-quality image files (courtesy of a really helpful university archive), along with the permissions forms and a couple other pieces of paperwork. My part in the process, for now at least, is done.
What’s going to happen next? Well, the press has to go through its own process. They’ll check my references and other aspects, get the manuscript formally copy edited, and then I’ll have to review the edits and sign off on them. Then they’ll design the book and I’ll have to review the galleys and sign off on those. That’s also when I’ll have to create an index, since the pagination will be set. At some point, all the tasks will be done and the book will be printed and it’ll be an actual, physical thing at last.
Then, no doubt, I’ll read it and instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment, I’ll locate one little detail that I didn’t get correct, or I’ll see something I missed. It always happens. But, that’s the risk you run.
July 21 is always a somber date to anyone who knows the Dave Garroway story, for it was on that day in 1982 that his life ended. This year, it’s even more poignant given the recent loss of some notable public figures under similar circumstances. Anyone who has lost someone to suicide (and that’s more folks than not, I’m afraid; I can think of at least three people I’ve known who ended their own lives) knows how shocking and awful and final it is.
While I could list a series of essays and resources for those who are in pain (or for those who are concerned that someone they love might be in pain), I don’t think I could top this selection from The Mighty. Some of it’s practical, some of it’s poignant, all of it matters.
I was born on the family farm near Schenectady, New York on July 13, 1913 at 1 p.m. Or at least that’s what I was told, although I was too damn busy at the moment to notice the time or the place.
It’s a big day for us – but July 13 always is here. For one, it’s Dave Garroway’s birthday. He was born 105 years ago today. And although his 69 years had some incredible triumphs and some pretty deep lows, it was a colorful and remarkable life, and a life well worth remembering.
Closer to home, it was one year ago today that our site went live. Since then we’ve uncovered a few things, traveled a few places, made some incredible discoveries and tried to have some fun along the route. We’ve tried to make a start at telling Dave’s story as it needs to be told: the story of a life in full, told with candor, perspective and compassion. We’ve tried to debunk some old myths and uncover some new stories. It’s only a year in, but I think we’ve made a decent start.
While the website’s been going along, so has the book’s manuscript. As of now it’s in excess of 25,000 words and growing daily. It’s pretty safe to say that when you read the finished book, you will get a new and very personal perspective of Dave Garroway. Working on it is always interesting, and I am constantly getting new insights as I sift through Dave’s writings and build the narrative of his life’s story. I constantly find myself amazed this story hasn’t been told before now. But now it will.
And while today we celebrate Dave’s life and mark this website’s first anniversary, it’s also appropriate to thank those of you out there who visit our site, read our posts, leave us comments or drop us notes, and pass the word along to others. Thank you for helping keep Dave Garroway’s memory alive, too.
Thanks to all of you for a great first year. Now let’s see what we can do in the second one.
While Jack Lescoulie had been a popular sidekick to Dave Garroway on Today, the guy who could be relied upon for a funny aside or a class-clown moment, the program was changing. When Garroway left in mid-1961, the program was restyled. It had a bent toward harder news, with John Chancellor taking Dave Garroway’s spot. Frank Blair became Chancellor’s sidekick, while Edwin Newman became the newsman.
Jack Lescoulie didn’t fit this new, more serious Today. Instead, NBC put him on a new educational series called 1, 2, 3, Go! with a 10-year-old actor named Richard Thomas.10 Lescoulie was a kind of sidekick and tour guide to young Richard as he went on adventures and imagined himself in various roles. In a program about a haunted house, for instance, Richard met a ghost played by Lescoulie. In another about the Department of the Treasury, Richard imagined himself as a Secret Service agent capturing a counterfeiter…played by Lescoulie. For his part, Lescoulie enjoyed it. “I hope the children watching 1, 2, 3, Go! get even half as much fun out of it as I do,” he said. But it didn’t work out. He later reflected, “We worked hard. We turned out, I thought, good shows. But no matter what we did, we couldn’t get any kind of audience. Those educational things don’t.”
In January 1962 Today celebrated its tenth anniversary. Old friends showed up for the telecast, including Jack Lescoulie. Viewers, happy to see him on the program again, flooded NBC with 15,000 letters. It didn’t take long, and effective July 9 he was back on Today in a permanent role. An NBC executive stated they were “very delighted” to have Lescoulie back on a program he was so long identified with, and that “his delightful sense of humor and easygoing manner will be a valuable addition to the program.”
Lescoulie (far right) during his second tour. Seen with Frank Blair, Pat Fontaine and Hugh Downs. According to some who worked on the program, that look Lescoulie is giving Hugh Downs might reflect the frustrations of a second banana who wanted to be the star. (NBC photo)
Paul Jones of the Atlanta Constitution captured what made Jack so special. Jones offered Toots Shor’s observation that Jack was the “pace” of the Today program. “If Jack is in good humor, the show moved along smoothly, swiftly. However Jack feels, that’s the way the show looks on that particular day.” To the famed restaurateur’s observation, Jones added, “Since Jack seldom had a bad day, Garroway’s Today seemed always to have a smooth pace – something it sorely lacked when Jack left.” Another writer, in 1963, called Lescoulie “a fresh-faced, tall, blond fellow with a wild off-beat sense of humor and inborn irreverence whose yeasty comment often saves the program from disastrous monotony. Lescoulie’s unexpected reactions are like a tonic as the earnest news-purveyors of the show busily dig and probe into the news and newsmakers.”
Neil Hickey of TV Guide attempted to pinpoint Lescoulie’s appeal. Hickey wrote that Lescoulie “consciously woos acceptance by casting himself as everybody’s next-door neighbor, by being liked as a regular fellow by regular fellows, by walking the straight and narrow path between big-city sharpness in dress and manners, and the wide-eyed, wide-lapel ingenuousness of the hayseed.” Lescoulie told Hickey that he built a career out of being “a guy you can’t resent for small things.” It meant he bought off-the-rack clothes so he didn’t look too upscale, keeping his hair an average length, never wearing flamboyant neckties. “This gets you to the people,” he said. “It’s being the ideally-dressed salesman. I believe you’ve got to take every edge you can get.”
Yet Lescoulie knew how precarious this image was, having known of cases where “big stars who let it slip out that they were not really nice guys at all, and it damaged their careers.” Lescoulie thus knew that “a quick shot in an off-guard moment” could ruin him, and he took care to keep the on-screen Jack and off-screen Jack in alignment. “The closer you come to being yourself on the screen, the longer you last.”11
Today‘s executive producer, Al Morgan12, called Lescoulie “deceptively good. He’s the darling of old ladies and kids. I’ve never seen a performer get the kind of mail he does – cough remedies, fishing advice, everything.” Morgan said Lescoulie’s on-air persona had not only great warmth, but range. “He kids around a lot, and then suddenly he says something very penetrating.”
Lescoulie’s day began at 3:45 a.m. for the program’s start at 7 a.m. “Sometimes it seems as if all my early training was preparing me for this show,” he said. “Take just the matter of getting enough sleep. I learned in the Air Force to take a nap when I could get it. I can lean my head against a steel pile and go right off – and 15 minutes of that does wonders.” After his duties were complete, he and some pals of what was called the “Sentimental Drinking Society” were off to Toots Shor’s for refreshments and a lot of sports talk. By 3 p.m. Lescoulie was headed back to his home on Long Island to be with his wife and children.
Lescoulie with Hugh Downs, Barbara Walters, and Frank Blair. (NBC photo)
In between his NBC duties Lescoulie continued to do commercials and announcing work. By 1965 he was earning $175,000 per year, much of it from his non-Today work. “For the last seven years I’ve been the highest-paid announcer in television,” he told Hickey, noting that his careful style in choosing only a few accounts helped his earnings.
Yet he continued to feel something was missing. He told one journalist he’d felt he had played things too safe by sticking to the announcer/sidekick role, and that he was “delivering only 10 per cent of the sum total of which I am capable.” Complicating all this was his indecision about what to do next: act in films, act on stage, or host a variety program. Each appealed to him, and “that’s part of my problem. I simply cannot focus my thoughts or energies on one exact area. But I don’t worry about this. I think the pieces will fall into place without my having to set out in search.” Lescoulie predicted that as he went for bigger things, “I think I’m going to surprise an awful lot of people in the next then years. I also think at the same time I’m going to get punched in the nose a lot. But who cares? A punch only hurts for a minute.”
That punch would not be long in coming. On his second day in the Virgin Islands during a 1965 field assignment for Today, Lescoulie asked the unit manager for more cash. This particular unit manager, whose reputation for keeping a very tight hold on funds had earned him few friends, turned down the request. Lescoulie was very unhappy. (Despite later characterizations of this dispute as a fistfight, these tensions appear to have never erupted into physical violence.) But instead of discussing the matter with management, Lescoulie wrote a memo threatening to walk out any morning he came on set and saw that unit manager.
One day in 1966, according to Robert Metz’s book The Today Show, Lescoulie came on the set and that very unit manager was there. Lescoulie stayed true to his threat and walked out. NBC fired him. His last show was September 2. Rumors had circulated about his fate after the dispute in the Virgin Islands, but the firing confirmed things weren’t rosy. The network claimed Lescoulie’s contract was going to expire at the end of August 1966 because he didn’t figure into the plans for the show. Lescoulie’s manager countered, “Of course he was fired. NBC had the absolute right to fire him. It’s their money. They just didn’t want him any more.” For his part, Lescoulie claimed that Morgan “slowly wrote me out of the show.” But he philosophized that he was in good company. “I can’t be too bad if they fired me,” he said. “After all, they fired Bob Kintner.”13
Lescoulie continued working in smaller jobs, doing commercials and announcing chores. In May 1968 he remarried. That summer, he did some work with WLW-TV in Cincinnati, hosting coverage of the Ohio State Fair. “We worked 14 hours a day up there,” he said. “I worked like I never worked before.” He also did some fill-in work in August 1969. His track record led to an offer from WLW’s parent company, Avco Broadcasting, to narrate documentaries, be an on-camera host for sports programs and special events, and fill in as needed. Lescoulie signed with Avco and moved to Cincinnati from Greenwich, Connecticut. “The only place (to be) is where there is live TV,” he said. “The future of TV is in live shows.”14
But New York was never far from Lescoulie’s mind. When the original incarnation of Hurley’s, the legendary watering hole adjacent to the RCA Building, closed in 1975, Lescoulie showed up to join Dave Garroway and Frank Blair for one last drink. “For seven years Frank and I sat in the corner and had breakfast every morning,” he told a reporter.
The original duo together one more time during the January 1982 anniversary program. It was magic. (NBC photo)
And Lescoulie showed up for the Today anniversary specials. On the 30th anniversary in 1982, he and Garroway shared reminiscences about the old days and proved their rapport hadn’t lost a step. Six months later, he was back to mourn Garroway as the program paid tribute to its original master communicator.
His last appearance was during the 35th anniversary special, aired on a Saturday night in January 1987. Although his spirits were high and his mood playful, he was suffering from colon cancer. On July 9, he was admitted to St. Francis Hospital in Memphis, where he died on July 22.
Lescoulie on “Today at 35,” aired in January 1987 (NBC photo)
In the 1950s, his friend Jackie Gleason had said to Lescoulie, “Do you know why you were never a big hit in radio? Because they couldn’t broadcast teeth.” Although he may be long gone, those who know the work of Jack Lescoulie, his comforting and cheerful voice – and most of all, the grin that was once called “one of television’s most durable monuments” – know why he matters.
Here’s to you, Jack Lescoulie.
SOURCES:
Associated Press, “Jack Lescoulie, One Of ‘Today’ Founders, Dies of Cancer.” Oshkosh (Wis.) Northwestern, July 23, 1987: 19.
Bob Considine, “On The Line: Jack Lescoulie Not Worried As NBC Prepares to Fire Him.” Muncie (Indiana) Evening Press, Aug. 18, 1966: 4.
Sam Dobbins, “Just One Last Drink at Good Old Hurley’s.” Corpus Christi Caller-Times, Oct. 13, 1975: 9C.
“Fame, Popularity and Wealth Don’t Satisfy Jack Lescoulie.” Lansing (Mich.) State Journal, Oct. 16, 1965: 20.
Neil Hickey, “The Man With The $175,000 Smile.” TV Guide,Jan. 30, 1965: 20-22.
Steve Hoffman, “Jack Lescoulie Joins Avco Staff.” Cincinnati Enquirer, Oct 10, 1969: 51.
Julia Inman, “Delighted Jack Lescoulie Finds Country Doesn’t Stop at Hudson.” Indianapolis Star, Aug. 7, 1970: 19.
“Jack Lescoulie Has Offbeat Parts, But He Finds All Fun.” Dover (Ohio) Daily Reporter, Nov. 11, 1961: 17.
“Jack Lescoulie’s July Return To ‘Today” Show Is Announced.” The Daily Times (New Philadelphia, Ohio), June 16, 1962: 9.
Paul Jones, “As I See It: Lescoulie Added, Today Brightened.” The Atlanta Constitution, July 12, 1962: 10.
Paul Jones, “As I See It: Jack Lescoulie Deserves Better.” The Atlanta Constitution, Aug. 18, 1966: 82.
Cynthia Lowry, “Cheerful Waker-Upper – That’s Jack Lescoulie.” Binghamton (N.Y.) Press and Sun-Bulletin, Apr. 7, 1963: 56.
Robert Metz, The Today Show (New York: Playboy Press, 1978), 154-156.
United Press International, “Jack Lescoulie ‘Fired’ From NBC’s Today.” The Press Democrat (Santa Rosa, Calif.), Aug. 11, 1966: 1.
United Press International, “Jack Lescoulie, Today Announcer.” South Florida Sun Sentinel, July 23, 1987: 26.
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.15 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.”16
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.17 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.18
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 Hein19 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.”
All was well here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters and we were getting ready to present the next installment in our newest series. That’s when the hard drive in our main computer decided to throw a wrench in the works. (Because computers are paid to do that.) A new hard drive is on the way and I’ll have it up and going in a couple days, and better still all the valuable research has been saved through multiple backups, so there’s been no damage to anything (other than my billfold).
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