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Television in the 1960s

June 26, 2025 by DickH Posted in Uncategorized Leave a Comment

Television in the 1960s

By Leo Racicot

My earliest memory of television is watching Big Brother Bob Emery, a local kids show out of Boston. Bob Emery was a broadcaster who hosted a live audience of children. My favorite part of his program came when Big Brother Bob told us kids to go to the fridge, grab a tall glass of cold milk and hurry on back to the TV. He had his own glass of milk. On the wall of his studio set hung a portrait of our president, at that time, Dwight D. Eisenhower. As Hail to the Chief began to play, Bob would turn, lift his glass of milk up to the portrait (we kids were to do the same) and raise a toast to “Ike”. Big Brother Bob’s show was must-see fare every weekday morning before school. His career came to an abrupt end when he was caught on what’s now called ‘a hot mic’ swearing at a kid.

Romper Room was another favorite daily morning show. Ours here in New England was hosted by Miss Jean, a pretty lady who played on-air games and such with her live studio audience of boys and girls. The fun part of the program was Magic Mirror Time; Miss Jean would hold an opaque mirror up to her face and say, “Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror, tell me today? Have all my friends have fun at play?” “Magically”, the opaque mirror would become a real mirror through which she could “see” us kids at home. She’d then say, “Oh, there’s Jimmy!” “There’s Todd!” “Oh, and I see Bobby and Helen and Tommy and Ruth!” It baffled me that she never said, “I see Leo!” I wondered why she could see all the other kids but not me. That never made me give up on tuning in every morning, in the hope that Miss Jean would see me. My first Life’s lesson in disappointment, I guess…

Bozo the Clown was on every afternoon, after we got home from school. Bozo was played by Frank Avruch who later went on to host Channel 5’s Great Entertainment, a late-night program in which he showcased classic films from the Golden Age of Hollywood. On this program, Frank wore a classy, snazzy tuxedo, carnation in his lapel, black, shiny dress shoes. No wild red hair, clown face. gigantic feet. The Bozo Show had a parade of regulars, one of whom was Judy Valentine. Judy played a fairy princess and would sing songs like I’m a Little Teacup and Bend and Stretch — Bend and Stretch. Reach for the Stars. There goes Jupiter! Here comes Mars! Our mother knew and had been pals with Judy (real name, Norma Baker) when both were young girls. I thought that was so neat. Actually, I used to think our mother was some kind of celebrity; she was in the same high school class as Jack Kerouac at Lowell High School. Jack once asked her out for an ice cream soda at Teddy’s in Cupples Square, but she turned him down. Our father also knew Jack from Lowell’s Little Canada and the Moody Street neighborhood. But I digress… I credit Avruch’s Great Entertainment with my lifelong love for and knowledge of classic films. I later wrote movie reviews for The Brattle Theater and Harvard Film Archive, Cambridge, when I lived there in the ’90s and 2000s.

No roster of ’60s TV. shows would be complete without a mention of Captain Kangaroo. Bob Keeshan was The Captain. Keeshan had begun his career in entertainment playing Clarabell the Clown, a silent buffoon who communicated by honking a series of horns attached to his waist. But Keeshan’s longest-running success was as Kangaroo. I tried never to miss his show. I loved all the regulars: Bunny Rabbit, Grandfather Clock, Mr. Moose. One wrong word from Mr. Moose and tons of ping pong balls would rain down on The Captain’s head. You never knew what treasures Captain would pull out of his oversized pockets. Mostly, he’d dig out a bunch of carrots for a very hungry Bunny Rabbit who expressed his gratitude by banging his head on the counter. Mister Green Jeans was The Captain’s farmer sidekick and comic foil. He was played by Lumpy Brannum, a local performer. Brannum was gay and years later, I got to know him a bit at Jacques, a gay bar in Boston’s Bay Village. He was as gentle and soft-spoken as his character, Green Jeans.

When TV trays and frozen dinners were introduced to American culture, one of my favorite things to do was to bring my supper into the living room and watch television while I ate and did my homework. At first, Ma was reluctant to let me; she wanted me to concentrate on my homework. But once she saw that watching while studying wasn’t affecting my grades, she let me do both. Some of my favorite shows were The Jetsons (a cartoon about a family living in the space-age future). I also waited with bated breath every week for Star Trek (the original) and the adventures Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock and other members of The Starship Enterprise encountered throughout the galaxy. I got a kick out of The Flintstones and looked forward to The Munsters and The Addams Family spookfests.

Our family always had a black-and-white TV set — our mother had read that the new color sets could be harmful to the eyes, and they were expensive, so she never did buy one. Years later, when I’d watched Time Tunnel and Lost in Space on DVD, it was startling to see that they were filmed in color; I’d only ever known them in black-and-white.

Other popular shows of the ’60s were Mannix, Bewitched (we all tried to wiggle our nose like Samantha Stephen’s and make magic but that, of course, never happened). After watching the now-legendary live broadcast of Peter Pan with Mary Martin, I was inspired to fly through the narrow back of a kitchen chair (like Peter!) and got stuck halfway through. To pry me loose, Aunt Marie had to take the backing off with a screwdriver, all the while scolding me for thinking I could fly. I loved That Girl with the delightful Marlo Thomas as an aspiring actress in New York City. That show put the idea into a lot of fans’ heads that we, too, could move to Manhattan and become big stars. Thomas’s character, Ann Marie, never did become one, and neither, alas, did we. I still like to binge-watch all seasons every couple of years and got to meet and chat with Marlo at a personal appearance in Boston’s Borders Books and Music. She even asked me to help her off with her coat.

My mother and I liked the same nighttime shows and always watched them together. David Janssen was a huge hit as The Fugitive, and of course, the whole country howled over Lucille Ball and her zany antics on I Love Lucy. The Honeymooners with Jackie Gleason and Art Carney was another staple of ’60s television. I loved television so much that when Ma told me it was time to go to bed, I’d hang off the other end of my bed (my bedroom was just off the living room with a clear view of the t.v.) unseen, at least I think Ma couldn’t see me, and watch The Jack Benny Show, Alfred Hitchcock Presents and My Three Sons till I fell asleep.

Laugh-In was a runaway smash from the get-go, a cavalcade of attractive performers volley-balling one wacky zinger after another out to the home audience. Nothing like it had ever been seen on television. A combination of satire, parody and just plain irreverence, it made stars of Goldie Hawn, Ruth Buzzi and Judy Carne. It was so popular, everybody and his cousin wanted to be on it, even Richard Nixon who posed its famous signature line as a question: “Sock It to Me??”

No one, if they could help it, missed The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday nights. Sullivan, a newspaper columnist and unlikely host, was just peculiar enough to be entertaining. You never knew who you were going to see on his show. In addition to presenting the popular singers and comedians of the day, he booked acts from all over the world –clowns from Germany, acrobats from Japan, flamenco dancers from Andalusia. It was Sullivan who first presented The Beatles to American audiences. The girls in his audience that night were screaming and crying so loudly, you couldn’t hear The Fab Four singing. Total mayhem. Beatlemania. Unforgettable. A favorite spot was whenever Ed chatted with his little puppet pal, Topo Giggio, an Italian mouse. I also looked forward to appearances by Senor Wences and his talking hand, “Johnny”. “S’awright!”

A vivid memory — sitting on the living room floor with my bathrobed back against the dark brown hissing sputtering behemoth of a space heater watching Perry Mason solve the weekly question of Whodunit. Played by the brilliant Raymond Burr, Perry never lost a case, always got his client off-the-hook. (Interesting aside: while visiting writer, M.F.K. Fisher, I got to meet Burr and his partner, Bob Benevides, at their Northern California vineyard/farm where they cultivated grapes for Cabernet Sauvignon, also orchids. Burr was old by then, of course, and had a wicked, mischievous wit and a big, raucous laugh, nothing like Perry Mason.

When we got tired of the usual shows, we’d sometimes watch talk shows. Arthur Godfrey’s avuncular way with a tale was amusing, as was Art Linkletter’s. Chat shows weren’t then what they’ve evolved into now. Hosts like Louise Morgan, Virginia Graham and Betty Furness, ladies whose target audience was homemakers and housewives, addressed such topics as How to Saranwrap Your Vegetables and How to Entertain Unexpected Guests. And though I loved talk hosts like Mike Douglas and Merv Griffin, especially Merv, they took jejune to a whole other level and certainly didn’t rock the boat the way Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert and Bill Maher do today.

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