STARS OVER HOLLYWOOD AND LUX VIDEO THEATRE
Shortly after his graduation from Antioch College, Rod Serling first contacted Blanche Gaines, a literary agent in New York City, for possible representation. The recently widowed Gaines ran a virtual one-woman agency from an office on West 57th Street and represented a relatively small roster of clients. Despite the fact that Serling lived in Ohio and had only a few radio credits to his name, she agreed to shop his material to radio and television. In her first letter to Serling, written on August 3, 1950, she explained, “It is more difficult to work with a writer who is living so far away from New York—but I think your stuff has merit and am willing to try and see what I can do with it.”1
Their agreement called for Gaines to receive a 15 percent commission from the first ten scripts she sold, with a reduction to 10 percent thereafter. Gaines later agreed to reduce her commission to 10 percent after only five scripts sold, but Serling still needed nearly two years to complete this apprentice period.
Many years later, Mike Wallace introduced an interview with Serling by telling viewers, “Rod Serling’s story can be summed up in just a few words: from forty rejection slips to three Emmy Awards.”2 Wallace was not exaggerating. Serling had already collected a stack of rejections from several major radio programs before contacting Gaines, and although she submitted every script that he had written for The Storm and for radio to multiple markets, every one of them was rejected numerous times.
As Serling was learning his craft, he was also learning to navigate television’s evolving taboos, such as the one that led to the death of “As Yet Untitled” without any serious consideration from a network program. He was also learning to deal with sponsors’ aversion to any dramatic presentation that had depth, honesty, or even quality. On February 29, 1952, Gaines bluntly explained that “script editors and producers are helpless against the guy who pays the bills. Since most of these are mediocre people—they recognize and appreciate only mediocrity and they think the public feels the same way.”3 Several of Serling’s early rejections and reassuring letters from Gaines reiterate this point.
In August 1950, Gaines cautioned Serling that “Vertical Deep” (which dealt with neo-Nazism) was “too deep” for the sponsors of Armstrong Circle Theatre. In November 1951, Lux Video Theatre passed on “No Gods to Serve” after the sponsor objected to its morally conflicted depiction of American soldiers. Addressing the possibility that Procter and Gamble might be interested in the same story for production on Fireside Theatre, Gaines wrote, “I would love to sell it to them just to show Lux that another soap company had courage.” In December 1951, Gaines warned Serling that “Ward 8” (which challenged orthodox definitions of courage and cowardice in combat) would be a tough sell since it was “pretty strong stuff for the programs hereabouts.” In early 1952, Ruth Russell of WTVN in Dayton, Ohio, returned an unnamed script (likely “As Yet Untitled”) to Serling with a rejection letter that read, “We’re returning this script since too many people are ‘afraid’ to touch it. It’s a mighty good script and I personally would like to see it done by someone. Wish it could be WTVN.” In March 1952, the script editor of Schlitz Theatre candidly revealed the restrictions imposed by the show’s sponsor: “I thought NO GODS TO SERVE and THE SANDS OF TOM were extremely good,” he wrote. “This Rod Serling is a ‘writer’ but of course, as you know, we cannot do anything as exciting as that.”4
One script that Gaines did sell, “You Be the Bad Guy,” aired on Lux Video Theatre on August 18, 1952. Director Richard Goode subsequently wrote to Serling, “It is a pleasure for a director to have an opportunity to work over an honest script for a change. TV unfortunately thrives on half truths. I’ve been doing my best to convince the proper people that the ratio of entertainment is in direct relation to truth, however, the purveyance of truth is not what they are trying to sell, and to do so is risky.”5 Today, “You Be the Bad Guy,” which deals with a pair of brothers on opposite sides of the law, would likely be viewed as one of Serling’s more frivolous pieces of work. In 1952, it was an “honest” and “risky” show.
After each rejection, Gaines offered honest criticism, insight into what the markets were looking for, and encouragement on the numerous occasions when Serling seemed on the verge of giving up. Though such exchanges are common to any agent-client relationship, theirs was unusual. The two did not even meet in person until January 24, 1952, approximately eighteen months after their initial exchange of correspondence, and Gaines did not ask Serling to sign a formal contract until more than two years after she had begun handling his material. Gaines was in many ways a mother figure in Serling’s early career, a role he readily acknowledged.
In addition to persistently submitting Serling’s scripts, Gaines relentlessly urged him to move to New York. She argued that the move would enable him to meet potential producers of his material and make him readily available to handle the inevitable rewrites. Because he lived in Cincinnati, several of Serling’s early sales were rewritten by others, with Serling receiving only a “story by” credit rather than a full teleplay credit (and the accompanying higher fee).
Serling hesitated to heed Gaines’s advice because he worried about giving up the security of the steady paychecks he received first from WLW/Crosley Broadcasting Corporation and later from WKRC-TV. He later admitted another reason: “New York scared the hell out of me.” He needed to develop greater confidence before making the move.6
Gaines’s first sale on Serling’s behalf was “Mr. Finchley vs. the Bomb,” which Lux Video Theatre purchased in November 1951. Before contacting Gaines, however, Serling had already sold three scripts to a filmed anthology series, Stars over Hollywood. Serling described the series as “symptomatic of absolutely the worst features of Class-B moviemaking. The plots were an ABC mishmash, with the depth and levels of an adobe hut.”7 Serling’s contributions to the series justify that appraisal.
STARS OVER HOLLYWOOD
NBC
“Grady Everett for the People”
September 13, 1950, 30 min.
Alternate titles/productions/publications:
1. Produced on The Storm, December 14, 1951
Produced by Revue Productions; directed by Axel Gruenberg and Jack Hively Teleplay by Oliver Crawford; story by Rod Serling
Cast: Bert Freed; Lynn Stalmaster; Byron Foulger; Stanley Glenn; Gilbert Fall-man; Barbara Woodell
Synopsis: In public, gubernatorial candidate Grady Everett plays the role of a populist. In private, he talks to his own reflection and maniacally laughs at the gullibility of voters. In the polls, he’s running even with his opponent, but the press is poised to reveal a scandal from Everett’s past: Some years earlier, Everett and his running mate, Steve George, played pivotal roles in the substandard construction of an elementary school building that later collapsed, killing nine children. Before the story can be published, Everett convinces George to sacrifice himself for the campaign by taking full responsibility for the incident, promising to pardon him after winning the election. This tactic keeps Everett out of prison, but soon everyone working for his campaign has seen his true character. And so have the voters.
Dejected and alone after losing, Everett is visited by Joe Rienti, who had seemed to be the candidate’s most faithful lackey. Rienti explains that his twelve-year-old brother was one of the children who died when the school’s stairwell collapsed, and that he’s always known that Everett was responsible. Rienti has been biding his time, waiting to witness Everett’s downfall before taking revenge. He aims a gun at Everett and pulls the trigger.
As Everett falls, he reaches out and tears two of his campaign posters from a wall. After a career built on dishonesty, he has inadvertently left behind one statement of truth: the combined message of the torn posters has been altered from “Grady Everett for the People” to “Grady Everett for Grady Everett.”
Notes: While Serling recycled several scripts from The Storm for various national series, this script made the opposite migration, airing locally on The Storm fifteen months after it was presented to a national audience.
Serling’s script fits about two hours’ worth of political machinations into a half-hour show and ultimately plays like a competently written abridged version of a much longer work. The episode aired during an era when professional wrestling was a major source of network programming, leading Serling to “claim immodestly that it surpassed wrestling; beyond that, I’ll make no value judgment whatsoever.”8
“Christmas for Sweeney”
December 20, 1950, 30 min.
Alternate titles/productions/publications:
1. Produced on Stars over Hollywood radio series, December 23, 1950
Produced by Revue Productions; directed by Axel Gruenberg
Story by Rod Serling
Cast: Bruce Cabot; Tol Avery; Roy Regnier; Erin Selwyn; Rolland Morris; Gene Gary; Paul Livermore; John T. Smith
Synopsis: It is Christmas Eve, but cynical reporter Mike Sweeney is not in a festive mood. His newspaper beat covers the most impoverished part of town, and he has just finished writing a story about an old man who was found dead, “half starved and half frozen” in a garret. Sitting in Andy’s Lunch Room, Sweeney reveals himself to be a Scrooge, albeit a reluctant one: he wishes that his love for the holiday hadn’t been beaten out of him by the misery he’s witnessed. “I wanted to write the Great American Novel,” he says, “not news items on the rapid decline of the human race.” As he treats Andy to his world-weary story, locals come and go, offering their own tales of woe: a blind old man cannot afford the cost of an operation that would restore his sight; a young couple cannot afford a wedding; parents with sick kids can’t afford medical treatment. After Andy leaves Sweeney alone to watch the place, a young punk walks in, looking for trouble. Sweeney slugs him in the jaw and sends him running, inadvertently ending up with his wallet, which turns out to be full of cash. Suddenly flush with dough, Sweeney decides to share the wealth, passing out money so that everyone can get what they need. But a police officer soon arrives with bad news: the money is counterfeit. Despite their disappointment, the locals are thankful for Sweeney’s gesture. It is truly the thought that counts, and Sweeney’s Christmas spirit is restored.
The Cincinnati Enquirer hypes “WLW Staff Writer” Rod Serling, December 20, 1950.
Notes: “Christmas for Sweeney” brought a national audience its first taste of Serling’s desire to dramatically convey his feelings about the true meaning of Christmas. Notable for this reason, “Sweeney” is otherwise a dreadful piece of television, filled with stale dialogue, stock characters (the blind old man sells pencils), and a plot that would have been better suited for The Honeymooners than anything resembling a serious dramatic program.
As with “Grady Everett,” Serling received only a “Story by” credit rather than full teleplay credit. Director Axel Gruenberg did some uncredited rewriting of the teleplay, mostly for the worse. Though it’s likely that nothing could have salvaged this script, Serling’s original version has a few things in its favor that were lost in the rewrite. For one, Serling at least attempted to give the supporting characters some depth. In Serling’s original, the blind old man is a former sportscaster who longs for the days when he could see a football game and describe the action; the young couple, Pete and Marge, don’t need money for a wedding—Pete is an aspiring musician who wants to go to music school, and Marge dreams of going to New York to become an actress on Broadway. These are minor embellishments, but losing them makes the script blander and adds an element of sexism: the rewrite eliminates Marge’s independent dream of becoming an actress and replaces it with Pete’s hope that someday he could “make enough money so that Marge could quit her job and we could get married.” This change offers a reminder that sexism in 1950s television did not always simply reflect the times but was often treated as a requirement, to be added when absent. Gruenberg also added an overt religiosity (including a long, proselytizing speech that closes the show) that was not present in Serling’s original.
Three days after this broadcast, the script was produced on the Stars over Hollywood radio program. Serling’s Christmas-themed stories improved significantly from this point forward.
Trivia: On January 17, 1951, Serling sold all rights to a continuing series proposal, By-Line, Mike Sweeney, to actor Bruce Cabot for three hundred dollars. Cabot had starred in King Kong (1933), one of Serling’s favorite movies. Serling’s friend and neighbor, Saul Marmer, once claimed that Serling was so tempted to hold onto Cabot’s autograph that Marmer nearly had to drag the writer to the bank to deposit the check.9
Serling’s sale to Cabot included a series outline, all rights to “Christmas for Sweeney,” another teleplay (“A Tuxedo for Jeb”), and an outline for one more story. “A Tuxedo for Jeb” was produced and broadcast on Stars over Hollywood as “Tails for Jeb Mulcahy” on April 11, 1951. Serling publicly claimed to have sold only two scripts to Stars over Hollywood. He apparently overlooked “Tails for Jeb Mulcahy” because it was sold directly to Cabot and not to the series itself. He may not have even been aware that the script was produced. No film of this episode is known to exist.
CBS
Rod Serling’s first television sales were to Stars over Hollywood, but the subsequent sales to Lux Video Theatre started opening doors for the young writer. “Besides the good and bad moments in a career of writing, there is also an indefinable turning point, a crossing of the Rubicon when suddenly you find your name somewhat known in the agencies and on the networks,” Serling wrote. “In my case it happened because of a single show that emanated out of New York City. This was the Lux Video Theatre.”10 The show’s story editor, Dick McDonagh, was one of Serling’s earliest champions, and Lux Video Theatre, which aired live on CBS from 1950 through 1957, ultimately produced eight of Serling’s scripts, four of which were recycled from The Storm.† None of Serling’s episodes are known to exist on film.
“You Be the Bad Guy”
August 18, 1952, 30 min.
Alternate titles/productions/publications:
1. Produced on It Happens to You (WLW radio, Cincinnati), October 2, 1953, as “The Human Comedy”
2. Produced on It Happens to You (NBC radio), July 6, 1954
3. Partially recycled into “The Last Night of August,” Pursuit, December 17, 1958
Produced by Cal Kuhl; directed by Richard Goode
Cast: MacDonald Carey; Biff Elliot; William Harrigan; Joe DeSantis; Joe Verdi
Synopsis: When they were kids playing cops and robbers, Dan Shevlin would always make his younger brother, Jamie, pretend to be the bad guy. Now adults and still living together, their roles remain the same. Dan is a lieutenant on the police force, and Jamie is still pretending to be a bad guy—but he’s about to graduate to being the real thing. Unknown to Dan, his younger brother has gone to work for a local mob boss, Wylie.
When the brothers played cops and robbers as kids, their games often took an odd turn because Dan was reluctant to use his toy gun to capture the crook, preferring to try to talk sense into him. This also has not changed much. Dan recently took pity on a juvenile shoplifter and let him off with a warning, and the kid proceeded to commit murder. As a result, Dan has been demoted and ordered to start getting tougher on criminals, beginning with Wylie. A tip that Wylie has planned to hijack a shipment of merchandise offers Dan the chance to start redeeming himself.
Once he is home, Dan decides to call Wylie to rattle his cage. Reaching for the phone, Dan is distracted by a scrap of paper on the table: it has Wylie’s phone number written in Jamie’s handwriting.
When Dan and his fellow officers arrive at the scene of the expected hijacking, they find a watchman shot dead, and Dan chases the suspect out into the night. He knows that he is chasing his brother. He pursues Jamie all the way back to their home. Just as when they played as kids, Dan tries to talk his brother into surrendering peacefully. Jamie refuses, forcing his brother to shoot and kill him in the stairwell of their own home.
Dan Shevlin is indeed tough enough to be a cop. But he has made this discovery at the steepest possible price.
“The Hill”
November 24, 1952, 30 min.
Produced by Cal Kuhl; directed by Fielder Cook
Cast: Gage Clarke; Mercedes McCambridge; Herbert Rudley; John Shellie; Victor Thornley; Harry Townes
Synopsis: A colonel assesses the strategic objective of an infantry platoon in North Korea: “One stinking little two-by-four hill, and it cuts two companies to pieces. The high cost of North Korean real estate. One stinking hill that a bulldozer could level in an hour and a half, and we have to pay for it in lives per square foot.” The enemy is holding onto the hill for precisely the same reason American soldiers need it: to command the high ground.
Embedded with the troops is a well-respected veteran newsman, Pop Trask, whose son might soon be joining the fight for that hill. When Pop asks to be allowed to go out with the troops to report on the battle firsthand, he learns that he is about to be called back home and replaced by someone else.
Pop’s replacement is Jo Gibbs, a young, pushy, gruffly ambitious female reporter whose only experience is as a gossip columnist. Gibbs coldly tells Pop that his stuff has gotten stale and their editor has decided that they need a fresh perspective. She suggests that he head home, but he says that he’ll stay until his son has received his orders.
Gibbs and Pop draw straws to see who will go out with the troops. Gibbs wins and Pop lets her go without an argument. He reveals that his son’s platoon has received its orders and is heading for the hill. Pop admits, “If I went out there, I’d be a father instead of a reporter, and I wouldn’t be able to do my job.”
After witnessing a morning of intense combat, Gibbs returns to the press tent, shaken to her core. Pop asks for news of his son but she does not or cannot answer. Pressed, she swears that she has no information on his son: “There were three hundred boys, and they all looked alike. They all had beards and dirty uniforms and averaged eighteen years old … and looked like old men.”
An air raid siren sounds, and all the reporters except Gibbs gather their things to head for shelter. She insists that she will stay and write. “I had a husband,” she explains. “His hill was in Normandy. They carried him off his hill. Feet first. I pulled strings to get this job, so I could see what licked him. What left me alone. Well, I found out.” She admits that her icy demeanor is a deliberate facade. “I have to be tough and nasty or I’ll crack in two.”
The air raid siren stops blaring, and news reaches the tent: the American troops have taken the hill. Gibbs sits at her typewriter and writes,
The hero of this story must remain anonymous until next of kin have been notified. It’s always this way in a battle. The kids who die are anonymous … the mothers, fathers, wives, families, all the people a thousand miles away are suddenly “next of kin” … until they discover their tragedy inside a telegram envelope. This particular kid was a hero. Not because he wasn’t afraid—he probably was. He was a hero because he didn’t let fear lick him. He stood up and was running … to draw fire on himself, so that the rest of the platoon could advance part way up the hill. He didn’t run very far—only a few yards. But they were brave yards … that cost him his life. His platoon did advance—and held what they took. I wish I could give you this boy’s name. This is one of the tragedies of war. Men are units—or parts of units—and the individual soldier loses his identity. And it’s only much later that he can be singled out for praise due. That kid—one of fifty I saw die this morning—should get that praise due.
Pop Trask will soon receive his tragedy inside a telegram envelope.
“Welcome Home, Lefty”
June 23, 1952, 30 min.
Alternate titles/productions/publications:
1. Produced on It Happens to You (NBC radio), August 17, 1954
Produced by Cal Kuhl; directed by Richard Goode
Cast: Chester Morris; Jan Sherwood; Richard McMurray; Donald Murray; Robert F. Simon
Synopsis: After pitching seventeen seasons in the Major Leagues, Lefty O’Bannion has been released by his team, and his brilliant career has come to an end. To soften the blow, his wife, Helen, has planned a surprise “welcome home” party for him. But hours after his train was scheduled to arrive, Lefty still hasn’t shown up. Instead, he spends most of the night at a local bar. Between drinks, Lefty curses his ungrateful team and insists that he won’t be home more than a day before another Major League club knocks at his door, begging him to pitch for them.
Rod Serling on …
COMBAT and WAR:
“Sometimes I think that’s the worst thing there is about war. Not what it does to the bodies—what it does to the minds.”
—“The Thirty-Fathom Grave,” The Twilight Zone
“There is a residue that comes with war. A backwash. A lot of garbage that gets left behind, and you don’t read about this in a West Point manual, or the history of battles. The grief of it, the pain of it, the misery that men have to deal to other men. That’s never a matter of record. Never a statistic. Never a part of the data that gets figured out when it’s all over with. It’s an ache we carry in our gut that no medic will ever cure.”
—“Bomber’s Moon,” Playhouse 90
Rod Serling’s war-themed stories:
“No Gods to Serve,” The Storm, The Doctor
“The Sergeant,” Armstrong Circle Theatre
“The Hill,” Lux Video Theatre
“The Inn of Eagles,” Lux Video Theatre
“Twenty Four Men to a Plane,” Chrysler Medallion Theatre
“The Strike,” Studio One
“Save Me from Treason,” Armstrong Circle Theatre
“The Rack,” United States Steel Hour
“Bomber’s Moon,” Playhouse 90
“The Dark Side of the Earth,” Playhouse 90
“The Purple Testament,” The Twilight Zone
“The Passersby,” The Twilight Zone
“A Quality of Mercy,” The Twilight Zone
“The Command,” Chrysler Theatre
The Loner (series)
The following morning, someone does knock at his door, but it’s Lefty’s neighbor, Jimmy, a seventeen-year-old baseball player who idolizes Lefty and can’t wait to tell him that he has been picked to play in a game between the country’s best high school players and a semipro team. The event is being held for charity, and the organizers want to know if Lefty will pitch.
Lefty is insulted by the suggestion that he would pitch in an amateur contest and embarrasses the kid for having asked. When he learns that a Major League scout intends to be at the game, he agrees to pitch after all. He doesn’t realize that the scout is interested not in him but in Jimmy.
That afternoon, Lefty leaves for the field without telling his wife where he is going. After the game, Jimmy arrives at Lefty’s house before him and gives Helen a recap. For a few innings, Lefty looked like the young pitcher of his glory days. But then he grew tired. He loaded the bases, and Jimmy stepped up to bat. He swung and missed at two pitches but then hit a grand slam that knocked Lefty out of the game. Jimmy is profusely apologetic, ashamed to have so wounded his hero. Hat in hand, he leaves before Lefty can see him again.
When Lefty returns, his wife is surprised to find that his mood has greatly improved. He now accepts that his career is over and that he will need to find another purpose for the rest of his life. But it wasn’t giving up a grand slam that convinced him. It was his certainty that Jimmy purposely missed his first two pitches—two meatballs that the kid should have clobbered. Any pitcher can give up a home run, but to know that an opposing player is taking it easy on him, that’s a very different thing. He knew his career was over before he threw his last pitch. To repay Jimmy for his kind intentions, Lefty deliberately served up another pitch that the kid couldn’t avoid hitting for a home run, helping him seal a deal with the scout and begin his journey toward the Major Leagues.
Trivia: Lefty O’Bannion or at least a version of him makes a cameo appearance in The Twilight Zone’s “What You Need” (December 25, 1959). In that episode, a peddler hawks his wares in a bar where he approaches a customer named Lefty, a former Major Leaguer who is “looking for a pitching career at the bottom of a bottle.” He sells the pitcher a train ticket, which turns out to be exactly what he needs to get to a Minor League coaching job that he’s been offered.
† Although Serling wrote that Lux had produced eleven of his scripts (Patterns, 15), evidence indicates that the actual number was eight.