ANNOUNCERS VOICE
GREEN … green, cool grass, the touch, the smell of green, cool grass, now brought to you for the first time in GREEN, the new chlorophyll cigarette, the smoke that doesnt smell like tobacco, but smells good, green, cool, like grass …
And this:
PITCHMANS VOICE (Hard sell) … if you act now, you can get your acreagein Splendid Flats for the fantastic, the unbelievable price of twenty-five cents an acre! A week! Look at this land!
Its flat! Its gray! Its undeveloped! But within ten years with the coming of water and people, it will be a veritable oasis of loveliness! Get in on it now, folks! Before the land value skyrockets!
Most of all, Static is a loving remembrance of something dear that is gone. In his book of nostalgic essays, Remember? Remember? (Macmillan, 1963), Beaumont wrote, The world of radio was real to us. There are squirts and small fry today who will soon be as old as the Us of Then, and I know some who havent turned a radio on in their entire lives. I try to tell them what it was like, but they dont understand. They cant believe Im talking about the little plastic box in the kitchen that plays rock-n-roll and gives us the news, and Im not sure I believe it, either. Television is the substitute for what we had, and I deem it a bad one. It inspires neither loyalty nor awe. It does not thrill, transport, terrify or enchant. It only entertains … The point is made even more succinctly by a line that Lindsay says in the episode: Radio is a world that has to be believed to be seen. Its true, and Static reminds us of that.
THE WHOLE TRUTH (1/20/61)
Written by Rod Serling
Producer: Buck Houghton
Director: James Sheldon
Music: stock
Cast:
Harvey Hunnicut: Jack Carson Honest Luther Grimbley: Loring Smith Irv: Arte Johnson Nikita Khrushchev: Lee Sabinson Old Man: George Chandler Young Man: Jack Ging Young Woman: Nan Peterson Translator: Patrick Westwood
This, as the banner already has proclaimed, is Mr. Harvey Hunnicut, an expert on commerce and con jobs, a brash, bright, and larceny-loaded wheeler and dealer who, when the good lord passed out a conscience, must have gone for a beer and missed out. And these are a couple of other characters in our story: a little old man and a Model A car but not just any old man and not just any Model A. Theres something very special about the both of them. As a matter of fact, in just a few moments theyll give Harvey Hunnicut something that hes never experienced before. Through the good offices of a little magic, they will unload on Mr. Hunnicut the absolute necessity to tell the truth. Exactly where they come from is conjecture, but as to where theyre heading for, this we know, because all of them and youare on the threshold of the Twilight Zone.
After buying the Model A, which its elderly owner assures him is haunted, Hunnicut, an unscrupulous used-car dealer, finds he is compelled to tell the absolute truth. Consequently, he cant sell a single car on the lot. When a local alderman who is up for re-election expresses his interest in buying the car (to give the illusion he is not getting rich off his constituents), Hunnicut tells him of the spell it casts. Realizing that any politician who told the whole truth would very quickly be out of a job, he immediately changes his mind. Instead, he names several of his colleagues whom he would love to hear tell the truth for once. This gives Hunnicut an idea. Using the ruse that, if presented as the typical car of the average American, the Model A could be effective in anti-U.S. propaganda, Hunnicut manages to unload the car on someone he thinks will be much embarrassed by the truth Nikita Khrushchev!
Couldnt happen, you say? Far-fetched? Way-out? Tilt-of-center? Possible. But the next time you buy an automobile that happens to look as if it had just gone through the Battle of the Marne, and the seller is ready to throw into the bargain one of his arms, be particularly careful in explaining to the boss about your grandmothers funeral when you were actually at Chavez Ravine watching the Dodgers. Itll be a fact that you are actually the proud possessor of an instrument of truth manufactured and distributed by an exclusive dealer … in the Twilight Zone.
The Whole Truth was an odd choice, both for videotape and for The Twilight Zone. Although the used car lot is supposed to be outside, the illusion is not convincing. And the subject matter reveals that even Serling was not immune to some of the more pervasive prejudices of the day.
Night of the Meek
Written by Rod Serling
Producer: Buck Houghton
Director: Jack Smight
Videotape
Music: stock
Cast:
Henry Corwin: Art Carney Mr. Dundee: John Fiedler Burt: Burt Mustin Officer Flaherty: Robert Lieb Sister Florence: Meg Wyllie Bartender: Val Avery Elf: Larrian Gillespie Fat Woman: Kay Cousins
This is Mr. Henry Corwin, normally unemployed, who once a year takes the lead role in the uniquely American institution, that of department-store Santa Claus in a road-company version of’ The Night Before Christmas/But in just a moment Mr. Henry Corwin, ersatz Santa Claus, will enter a strange kind of North Pole which is one part the wondrous spirit of Christmas and one part the magic that can only be found in… the Twilight Zone.
Showing up at the department store drunk on Christmas Eve, Corwin is fired by Dundee, the manager. Still dressed in his moth-eaten Santa suit, he wanders aimlessly until he comes upon a magic bag that can dispense any gift thats asked of it. Corwin sets off to spread joy to one and all, but he soon runs into Officer Flaherty, who assumes the gifts are stolen and hauls him off to the station where a vengeful Dundee awaits. But when Dundee tries to remove the stolen merchandise, all he finds is a stray cat and some garbage. Corwin explains that its a most unusual bag. Facetiously, Dundee asks for a bottle of cherry brandy, vintage 1903. To his astonishment, Corwin supplies it. For the rest of the night, Corwin distributes presents. At midnight, the bag is empty. Burt, a friendly bum, notes that Corwin has taken no present for himself. He replies that his only wish would be to do this every year. The wish comes true: in an alley, Corwin comes upon an elf, sleigh and reindeer all waiting to take him to the North Pole.
A word to the wise to all the children of the twentieth century, whether their concern be pediatrics or geriatrics, whether they crawl on hands and knees and wear diapers or walk with a cane and comb their beards. Theres a wondrous magic to Christmas, and theres a special power reserved for little people. In short, there’s nothing mightier than the meek, and a merry Christmas to each and all
Once in a while, Rod would have an enthusiasm, Buck Houghton recalls. Hed say to himself or to me or to Carol or whomever, that he particularly liked somebody. There was a Christmas show that we did just because he wanted to see Art Carney play Santa Claus.
Sentimental, touching, and timeless, Night of the Meek is filled with holiday magic. As Corwin (named after Serlings idol, writer Norman Corwin) Carney is wonderful, providing just the right balance between comedy and drama. Supporting him in grand style are John Fiedler, as Corwins quick-tempered boss, and Burt Mustin, as a friendly skid-row
Santa and two of his neighborhood children. This is a genuinely funny episode, with the humor flowing naturally and enhancing the characters. There are no boffo laughs but rather many pleasant little moments, such as when Fiedler is in a police station berating Carney for distributing what he believes to be the stores merchandise, not noticing that the gifts hes removing from the bag as he talks are in fact empty tin cans until he removes a cat.
Taped just three weeks before Christmas, Night of the Meek had a special effect on the cast and crew, and especially on the many children on the set. Production assistant Lillian Gallo, today a producer, recalls, There were more children performing on that show as extras than on the other tape shows, and I remember their excitement and their joy. Sometimes, it was difficult for them to contain themselves during the times that you have to be quiet during the show. There was a different atmosphere throughout that shooting schedule.
This isnt to say that Night of the Meek pleased everybody. One viewer was so enraged at the
blasphemy of presenting a drunk as Santa Claus that he sent outraged letters to Serling, the network, and several newspapers.
TWENTY-TWO (2/10/61)
Written by Rod Serling
Producer: Buck Houghton
Director: Jack Smight
Videotape
Music: stock
Cast: Liz Powell: Barbara Nichols Doctor: Jonathan Harris Nurse/Stewardess: Arline Sax Barney: Fredd Wayne Night Duty Nurse:Norma Connolly Day Duty Nurse: Mary Adams Ticket Clerk: Wesley Lau Ticket Clerk #2: Joe Sargent P.A. Voice: Jay Overholts Double for Sax: Carole Conn
This is Miss Liz Powell. Shes a professional dancer and shes in the hospital as a result of overwork and nervous fatigue. And at this moment we have just finished walking with her in a nightmare. In a moment she’ll wake up and we’ll remain at her side. The problem here is that both Miss Powell and you will reach a point where it might be difficult to decide which is reality and which is nightmare, a problem uncommon perhaps but rather peculiar to the Twilight Zone.”
In the hospital, Miss Powell has a recurring vision in which she follows a nurse to room 22 the morgue at which point the nurse, who is disturbingly beautiful, throws open the door, smiles ominously, and says, Room for one more, honey. Miss Powell is convinced that these events are real, but her doctor and her agent believe they are no more than a bad dream. This seems even more certain when it is pointed out that the morgues night nurse is not the woman she saw. Finally, Miss Powell is discharged from the hospital. Arriving at the airport to board a nonstop flight to Miami, she has a dreadful sense of deja vu the plane is flight 22! Boarding, she is horrified to see that the stewardess is the nurse in her vision. The woman smiles at her and says, Room for one more, honey. Screaming hysterically, Miss Powell runs back to the airport lounge. The plane takes off without her and explodes in mid-air.
Miss Elizabeth Powell, professional dancer. Hospital diagnosis: acute anxiety brought on by overwork and fatigue. Prognosis: with rest and care, she’ll probably recover. But the cure to some nightmares is not to be found in known medical journals. You look for it under ‘potions for bad dreams to be found in the Twilight Zone.”
Rod Serling adapted Twenty-Two from a short anecdote in Famous Ghost Stories, edited by Bennett Cerf (Random House, 1944). In the original, an attractive young New York girl visits the Carolina plantation of some distant relatives. On two successive nights, just as she is getting into bed, she looks out the window to see a magnificent old coach, drawn by four coal-black horses pull up outside. The coachman, a ghastly-looking fellow, jumps off the coach, points a finger at her and says, There is room for one more! This so unnerves the girl that she packs her bags and heads back to New York, where she goes to see a doctor. The doctor dismisses the entire thing as an hallucination, but just as she is about to board the elevator to return to the ground floor of the medical building, she hears a familiar voice, saying, There is room for one more! The elevator operator is the same man as the coachman! The girl screams and draws back. The cables on the elevator break and all the passengers plummet to their deaths.
In adapting the story, Serling kept the basics but changed the setting from plantation to hospital and the vision from coach to morgue (an impressive set utilizing forced perspective). As for the elevator, thats transformed into the airliner that explodes upon takeoff (an effect that was accomplished with a model hanging from a wire and rigged with explosives).
Twenty-Two was not one of the more shining examples of The Twilight Zone. Barbara Nichols, Fredd Wayne, and Jonathan Harris (later Dr. Smith on Lost in Space) give performances which are shrill, shallow, and hard, and the theme of the episode, with its garbled premonitions and disbelieving bystanders, seems much better suited to a show like One Step Beyond. In the end, no one connected with the show felt very warmly toward it. Says director Jack Smight, I just didnt think it had the quality of some of the others.
LONG DISTANCE CALL (3/3/61)
Written by William Idelson and Charles Beaumont
Producer: Buck Houghton
Director: James Sheldon
Videotape
Music: stock
Cast: Billy Bayles: Billy Mumy Grandma Bayles: Lili Darvas Chris Bayles: Philip Abbott Sylvia Bayles: Patricia Smith Shirley: Jenny Maxwell Dr. Unger: Henry Hunter Mr. Peterson: Reid Hammond Attendant: Lew Brown 1st Fireman: Bob McCord 2nd Fireman: Jim Turley Nurse: Jutta Parr
As must be obvious, this is a house hovered over by Mr. Death, that omnipresent player to the third and final act of every life. And its been said, and probably rightfully so, that what follows this life is one of the unfathomable mysteries, an area of darkness which we the living reserve for the dead or so it is said. For in a moment, a child will try to cross that bridge which separates light and shadow, and of course he must take the only known route, that indistinct highway through the region we call the Twilight Zone.
For his fifth birthday, Grandma Bayles gives her loving grandson Billy whom she possessively thinks of as her son a toy telephone, then promptly takes sick and dies. For a short time, Billy is despondent, but he quickly seems to recover, spending virtually all his time talking animatedly into the toy. He claims Grandma is on the other end, that she is lonely and wants him to come visit, but his parents dismiss this as a childs imaginings at first. But when Billy throws himself in front of a speeding car, narrowly avoiding being killed, then claims someone told him to do it, his mother has a dread suspicion. Hearing Billy talking on the toy late that night, she grabs it from himand hears breathing on the other end! Screaming that she broke his telephone, Billy runs from the house and tries to drown himself in the fish pond. A fire rescue team tries frantically to resuscitate him, but with no response. At his wits end, Billys father goes into the childs room and speaks into the toy telephone. He pleads with his mother to let Billy live, arguing that if she really loves Billy shell let him grow up and experience the world. Suddenly, Billy begins to respond. Grandma has finally loosened her grip on Billy … and given him back to the living.
A toy telephone, an act of faith, a set of improbable circumstances, all combine to probe a mystery, to fathom a depth, to send a facet of light into a dark afterregion, to be believed or disbelieved depending on your frame of reference. A fact or a fantasy, a substance or a shadowbut all of it very much a part of the Twilight Zone .
As with Static, the idea for this morbid and effective little ghost story originated with one of Charles Beaumonts friends, in this case William Idelson. In his youth, Idelson had been an actor (he was a regular on radios Vic and Sade) later he would be a top TV comedy writer-producer, with credits including Love American Style and The Bob Newhart Show. But at the time he was selling real estate and desperately trying to break into writing for television.
Of Long Distance Call, Idelson says, It grew out of a true situation which I expanded and fictionalized. It was after the birth of my first kid, a little boy. It was just the situation in the house with my mother there and my wife there, and she had given my kid a toy telephone for his second birthday, and I saw her call him on the phone. Its so hard to know how ideas come, but it was like a flash.
Richard Matheson, another of Idelsons friends, submitted his script to The Twilight Zone. Initially, it was rejected, but Beaumont heard about the script and liked the idea. Upon his promise that he would rewrite the script with Idelson, Cayuga bought it. And Idelson had made his first sale.
Long Distance Call also marked the debut on The Twilight Zone of a gifted young actor who would ultimately be featured in three episodes. Today, Billy Mumy is primarily remembered for his role as Will Robinson on Lost in Space, but in reality his career has been a long and varied one, including such films as A Child is Waiting and Papillon.
What makes Long Distance Call truly frightening is the horrifying concept of a dead relative guiding a child toward suicide. The total vulnerability of the child and the utter helplessness of the parents to intercede (until the end) cannot help but involve us emotionally. It was
a theme that concerned some of those on the set as well. I remember my mother was really upset with the suicide scenes, says Mumy, thinking that it might make some type of weird impression on me to get something out of them by maybe pulling a stunt like that. One scene in particular must have caused a great deal of anxiety. When I tried to commit suicide in the pond, Mumy recalls, we shot a whole thing there with me floating in the water. I dont think that that was on camera, but I remember doing it. I was a real good swimmer then.
One of the factors that might originally have dissuaded Cayuga from buying Idelsons script was the less-than-successful climactic scene, in which the childs father picks up the toy telephone and pleads with his dead mother to return the boy. Heres how it appeared in the original script:
Ma! Ma, if you can hear me, give him back to us. You said you loved me, and I know you did. I remember so many things. Remember that funny little dog I had? You let me keep him even when he tore up all the furniture.
Pa wanted to give him away, but you said no. And remember the first day of school? How scared I was … and you sat in the back of the room all morning so I wouldnt cry? And that first pair of long pants. And the time I broke the window with the ball? You hid me under the bed when the policeman came. My graduation … and that first date I had, you remember? With that skinny redhead, how mad you were? We had lots of fights, but I always knew you loved me. And I loved you, too, so very, very much. I never really got a chance to tell you. Oh, Ma, please, give him back to us, so we can love him too. Give him back to us.
Chuck Beaumont and I were on the set while they were shooting the show, says Idelson, and Rod came down and said, T dont like this last speech. I want you to change it. Chuck and I went into an office and changed it, on the spot.
What emerged was a speech (beautifully performed by Philip Abbot) in which the focus was moved away from the father and put where it rightly belongson the child:
Twilight Zone Companion Page 21
