#Bond_age_TV on Vinyl: Vol 1. – Hugo Montenegro, The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
With another #UNCLEtweet upon us tonight, I thought I’d give everyone a little present.
This morning I ripped my copy of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. vinyl — which, by the way, is in pristine condition. It’s a snazzy, jazzy compilation of pop arrangements based on the Jerry Goldsmith scores from the first and second seasons of U.N.C.L.E. Even though this isn’t a straight up score, it’s still a fun compilation. For the legit score, you’ll have to visit screenarchives.com for the brilliant limited edition CD set.
Hugo Montenegro, The Theme from The Man from U.N.C.L.E.:
“It makes perfect sense… I mean not to me, but everything has a reason.”
-Lionel Whitney (Jeff Goldblum)
Stephen J. Cannell’s Tenspeed and Brown Shoe debuted January 27th, 1980 on ABC and was the first show produced by the prolific showrunner through his independent production company Stephen J. Cannell Productions (and the only one without the iconic graphic of the man typing away at his typewriter before flinging the page into the air).
First some background on Cannell before moving along to the unheralded Goldbluminess of Tenspeed.
Cannell sold his first script to the Robert Wagner spy show It Takes a Thief (a recent #Bond_age_TV live tweet) in 1969 before going on to write for Ironside and Columbo. Shortly thereafter he became story editor on Jack Webb’s Adam-12 and his profile at Universal continued to skyrocket. Cannell created his first show in 1973, a crime/detective dramedy called Chase. Though the show survived only one 24-episode season, the show, like a slow-rolling earthquake, reverberated through TV land for years to come. Starring Dark Shadows’ Michell Ryan, Chase concerned the titular character Chase Reddick, leader of a unique team within the LAPD that specialized in solving difficult cases via the use of their individual talents, mostly the piloting of alternate means of transportation such as helicopters, motorcycles, custom vans, muscle cars, etc. Sound familiar? Cannell recycled the same premise for The A-Team a decade later but turned the LAPD unit into a team of fugitives (imprisoned for a crime they didn’t commit!) who solved unusual problems for ordinary people. After the cancellation of Chase, Cannell hooked up with famed showrunner Roy Huggins (Maverick, The Fugitive) to create The Rockford Files, which successfully updated the outline of Maverick (James Garner included) for contemporary crime. The show ran for six years until 1980.
Combine those first two efforts in an industrial, pop-culture blender and you’ve got most of the pulp and bits for the entire television filmography of Stephen J. Cannell – dramedies concerning eccentrics solving crimes and mysteries in somewhere under 45 minutes. Did I boil that down too far for the sake of brevity? Absolutely. The distillation: Stephen J. Cannell cranked out television hits continuously for 30 years. In addition to those previously mentioned add Hardcastle and McCormick, Riptide, 21 Jump Street, Silk Stalkings, and The Commish to the list. And it all kinda sorta began with this little remembered gem called Tenspeed and Brown Shoe starring Ben Vereen and, of course, Jeff Goldblum in his first starring television gig.
Does that well up all of the 1980’s feels or is it just me? Swelling horns and adult contemporary funk. Freeze frames and 4th-wall-encroaching smiles through the camera. And if you weren’t around in the 80’s to fully appreciate the spectacle of 1980’s television in the moment, I’m truly sorry for your loss. In the age of TV on DVD, however, you are not without hope.
After giving up his golden-boy status on the Universal TV lot to establish himself as an independent producer, Cannell developed Tenspeed and Brown Shoe as his first project. His team consisted of himself, his secretary, a producer from Universal, Juanita Bartlett (a writer on Rockford), and a few other nondescript tag-a-longs (perhaps non-creative — the book was oddly vague here). Crammed full of ideas that would carry on into other more successful Cannell productions, Tenspeed carries with it a joie de vivre, an unbridled enthusiasm for new beginnings and old pop-culture standards. So, naturally, #SixSeasonsAndAMovie right?
Backing into the Detective Gig
The two-part pilot finds Lionel Whitney, the button-down accountant stereotype and closeted hard-boiled Chandler-esque private detective (if only at heart), at a crossroads. He’s being flung into an ill-conceived marriage of status and convenience. Yet the call of the flatfoot intervenes in the form of E.L. “Tenspeed” Turner, a con-man and hustler who inserts himself into Whitney’s life in an ill-conceived getaway scheme. Newly paroled, E.L. poses as Lionel Whitney’s driver and hides stolen Nazi diamonds in Whitney’s limousine. As you’d imagine, the mob (also after the diamonds, wouldn’t you know) pegs Lionel Whitney as an associate of E.L. Turner. Now the mob and the Nazis are after both men. Whitney showcases his various skills of privilege (black belt in karate — but only if self defense, collegiate-trained pistol marksmanship) and lust for the hard-boiled detective game, to navigate himself (and Turner) out of the farfetched mess. Lionel convinces E.L. to run a scam to get all the bad guys arrested (and clear Lionel’s now besmirched name). Their success inspires Whitney to break his engagement, quit his job and fulfill his dream of becoming a hard-boiled detective… and suggests E.L. “Tenspeed” Turner his partner in order fulfill his parole requirements.
At face value, the pilot suggests that E.L. is indentured to Whitney (a la George and Jerry’s indentured butler pilot on Seinfeld), Tenspeed and Brown Shoe dispenses with any suggestions of civil or social inequality. If anything it is E.L. Turner’s cockeyed cons that save the duo more regularly than Whitney’s wits. And as the show gains confidence, especially in the third episode (“Savage Says: There’s No Free Lunch”), their relationship becomes that of two oddly shaped puzzle pieces that just fit barely together, each keeping the other’s eccentricities in check long enough to solve a case.
The “Savage” Stories
The usual Cannell trappings appear early and often in Tenspeed. Generic, villainous gangs in the form of the mob and the Nazis (later biker gangs, stock brokers, Russians, etc.). The noble everyman thrown into extraordinary situations. Easy humor mixed with chase-scenes and dramatic flourishes of sincere connection between the leads.
The episodes are framed and often informed by the “Mark Savage” novels read by Lionel Whitney. The shows open with a Goldblum voice-over reading especially purple detective prose from a different Mark Savage mystery, written, of course, by Stephen J. Cannell – his picture prominently featured on the back of the books themselves (though no such series exists, sadly). As Whitney modeled his inexperienced P.I. on the Mark Savage character, the prose often bled over into the show’s narrative, influencing both characters.
Goldblum perfectly depicts the floundering detective searching his well-read brain for a particular Mark Savage passage that would advise him out of an especially hairy situation. His ticks (shall we say the Goldbluminess) suggest a private dick out of his element, but like the show itself, Lionel Whitney repeatedly proves himself to be more clever than he initially appears. The streetwise Turner keeps Whitney from bumbling into too many unfortunate scenarios with toughs, thugs, goons, or heavies (and helps bail him out with a quick scam when necessary). The detective can’t however help but fall prey to a beautiful woman, no matter how many times he gets burned. We’re never convinced of Whitney’s proficiency in snooping or detecting… but like his karate skills, which appear untrained and clumsy (despite the supposed black belt), Goldblum’s detective (like Goldblum himself) succeeds despite highly unconventional methods.
Tenspeed is both a spoof of the hard-boiled detective genre and a loving tribute. The two leads project easy, mismatched charisma. Vereen and Goldblum create intentionally incompatible characters and still manage to convince us that these two affable jokers from opposite sides of the social divide become trusting friends and colleagues in this ludicrous enterprise.
The end of Tenspeed, before it even began
ABC placed Tenspeed and Brown Shoe on Friday night’s opposite CBS’ ratings juggernaut Dallas. Cannell began to call this timeslot between 9:00pm and 10:00pm on Friday “the Steve Cannell memorial time period” because so many of his shows failed in the shadow of Dallas and Falcon Crest. Unfortunately Tenspeed was one of these failures. Despite excellent early ratings and an Emmy for writing on the pilot episode ABC cancelled the show after only 14 episodes, resulting in an $800,00 loss for Cannell’s newly-minted production company. Could the show have survived outside the shadow of Dallas? Great shows fail every year because of network mishandling and poor marketing. This just seems to be another one of those unfortunates.
Failed but not forgotten, the premise of Tenspeed and Brown Shoe lived on in the lesser (but far more successful) Hardcastle and McCormick. Ben Vereen’s character E.L. Turner also reappeared in another short-lived Cannell creation J.J. Starbuck.
Is it then pure luck that the home video gods decided to grace us with Tenspeed and Brown Shoe on DVD? Perhaps… but I choose to believe that it’s all about the Goldblum. Keep in mind, however, that the DVD does not contain the pilot episode due to some rights issue with CBS. It is however, available on YouTube.
Bond_age_TV Snoopathon Special – Mission: Impossible
American television in the 1960s was a pop culture goldmine. The James Bond films had brought a new level of excitement to the spy film, and to TV. Networks clamoured to put all the spy shows they could on screen. The viewing public ate them up. And yet, for the most part, the majority of them burned out fairly quickly. Most of them never even managed to make it half a decade. One program bucked this trend, however, and stayed on the air for 7 seasons. That show was Mission: Impossible. It’s a show that, even 50 years later, still manages to thrill audiences. There are a number of reasons why M:I manages to stay so entertaining, and this essay will take a look at few of them. But first, a brief history of how the show came to be.
Mission: Impossible was the brainchild of TV writer and producer Bruce Geller. His approach to a TV spy show was different than others, and made itself unique amongst the other programs of the time. His basic concept was to take a group of talented people who, while they lived regular lives, would occasionally be called on by the government to perform missions. Each team member had their own specific set of skills, and they would apply them during the course of the mission. His concept found its way to Desilu studies, the production company run by Lucille Ball and Desi Arnez. The show appealed to the studio’s key demand for being low cost, and a pilot was greenlit. With the show up and running, casting became the next key component.
The central character of the show was the team’s leader, the person who appeared to work directly for the IMF. In season 1, actor Steven Hill played this role. In the subsequent 6 seasons, Peter Graves took over the role. The remainder of the team usually consisted of the same actors, who were occasionally joined by guest stars. The roles usually required minimal characterisation from the actors, as the main focal point of the series was the missions. The cast the show developed, though, was a strong one. Martin Landau, Barbara Bain, Greg Morris and Peter Lupus made up the first group of members. Over the course of 7 seasons, only Morris and Lupus remained for the entire run. As actors left the series, characters with similar skill sets were introduced as replacements. This helped the show maintain its core structure, a development which other spy shows of the time didn’t have. It helped the show remain resilient. Similarly, the show had a sense of style unmatched by other shows.
Few TV shows can be considered iconic, but Mission: Impossible certainly fits that description. Its opening is instantly memorable and recognizable. A match lights a spark on the screen, and we go through a fast edit of scenes from that evening’s show, all under the massively infectious theme, created by legendary screen composer Lalo Schifrin. The show proper opened with the team leader getting his orders via tape recorder (or record, in some episodes), in some unassuming part of LA. The assignment being given, the recording would then self destruct. The rest of the episode would proceed like clockwork: the plan laid out, then implemented. Even though it was a TV show, the script made it sound like they were playing for keeps. When the voice on the tape says “if any of your IMF force are caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions,” you know they’re playing highstakes action. The show knew how to hook you, and keep you hooked.
The pilot episode for the show aired September 17, 1966. It was, by all accounts, a success. Viewers tuned in every week to find out what the mission was, and to see how they would make it succeed. Even the change of lead from Steven Hill to Peter Graves failed to dampen audience enthusiasm. Eventually, though, even the best of shows face problems it needs to solve. In M:I’s case, the problem was a changing American society. Anger over the Vietnam War was gaining amongst the demographics that most TV networks aim for: the 18-35 year olds. Protests over US interference in foreign affairs were commonplace. The networks were also looking for the show to cut costs. Responding to both pressures, the producers of M:I started moving the show away from the international intrigue stories, and more towards fighting organized crime in the US. This adjustment allowed the show to maintain its audience, and to survive longer than most other spy shows of the era. However, even the best shows have to end sometime. Eventually, they began losing their audience, and despite all their best efforts, weren’t able to get them back. The show’s final episode was broadcast on March 3, 1973.
It’s not hard to understand how it was that Mission: Impossible managed to stay on the air for as long as it did. The premise was unique, and the show had a style and format which caught the viewer’s attention right away. The music also had a huge impact on the show, as Lalo Schifrin’s vibrant jazzy score added to the action. The cast had great chemistry, especially in the early seasons. The show also had a strong producer behind it, keeping the show’s format intact, but allowing it to adapt to change. As a result, it managed to buck the trend of most other 60s spy shows, and continues to be an enduring pop culture icon.
Bond_age_TV Snoopathon Special – The Man From UNCLE
In 1960s television, a genre was created the likes of which programmers had never seen before: the superspy genre. Over the course of the decade, TV producers were hungry for any kind of spy programs they could find. This was particularly true of American producers. When not creating shows of their own (Mission: Impossible, It Takes A Thief, etc.,) they were busy importing spy shows from other countries, particularly UK shows like The Avengers, Secret Agent, and The Saint. They also produced superspy westerns (The Wild Wild West), and superspy comedies (Get Smart). The Man From UNCLE (1964-1968) was the first of the homegrown US superspy shows. In a newly-formed genre, it had the potential to become one of the biggest successes TV had ever seen. Instead, it petered out after 4 seasons, losing ratings as it went on, finally being cancelled during a shortened 4th season. And yet, it has managed to live on as a pop culture touchstone, and is a show still entertaining to this day. The reasons for UNCLE’s successes and failures will be the focus of this essay. To start, we must look back at the show’s beginnings, and its connections to the best superspy out there: James Bond.
James Bond is a cultural phenomenon. Between the books and the movies, he has remained a name that is known worldwide. He transcends borders and languages. His creator, Ian Fleming, has become as much of a known name as Bond. When television producers in the 1960s were looking for ideas for spy shows, one producer, Norman Felton, approached Ian Fleming himself looking for suggestions. Amongst the ideas that Fleming put forward were two characters: Napoleon Solo and April Dancer. Before his full suggestions could be implemented, though, trouble developed from the producers of the Bond films. They felt Fleming was undermining their franchise by working with Felton. As a result, Fleming had to step away from the producers of UNCLE, and they had to work out their own format. The UNCLE producers were, however, allowed to keep the names that Fleming had suggested. The task of developing the show fell to Sam Rolfe, a veteran TV writer and producer. By late 1963, a pilot was shot. It was called SOLO, and featured Robert Vaughn in the starring role of Napoleon Solo.
The pilot was TheMan From UNCLE in all but name. Sam Rolfe’s plot pitted UNCLE against their arch enemies THRUSH, and contained all the elements that UNCLE episodes would feature for its entire run. The most important element Rolfe developed was the use of “innocents” in the plot, who could be used wittingly, or unwittingly, by both sides. To further bolster the superspy image of the show, the “innocents” were most often beautiful young women. The pilot also established the casting of well-known actors from TV and movies as either innocents or the villains. The pilot also featured David McCallum as fellow UNCLE agent Illya Kuryakin, a Russian working for UNCLE. His role, though small, was a crucial one. Despite the pilot being completed, it never aired. Instead, it was retooled slightly, with a couple of key character changes, the first being McCallum being made a series regular. The second change involved giving UNCLE a new boss, played by Leo G. Carroll (best known for North by Northwest). With these changes, the pilot was cut down to a broadcast standard length, and finally aired as “The Vulcan Affair” on September 22, 1964. The show’s title went from SOLO to The Man From UNCLE. It was not an instant success.
Despite the pilot being shot on film, season 1 of UNCLE was broadcast only in black & white. It also didn’t get huge ratings when it began. Gradually, though, it was able to build up its profile with the audience. One reason for this was that MGM, the show’s home studio, had an eye on potential revenue from Man From UNCLE feature films. The films consisted of the same broadcast episodes, but with special scenes and more adult situations than network TV would allow. The pilot, never aired, was recut with scenes added, and released as To Trap A Spy (1964). The movies, initially sent out to American audiences, proved to be great successes overseas, and helped make international sex symbols out of the two leads. This development helped UNCLE to solidify its success at home too. The charm and charisma of Vaughn and McCallum helped make them one of TV’s best duos. They were partners, friendly, but also willing to one-up one another. They had a great rapport, and were entertaining to watch. The talent behind the screens also helped to make the show a great success. The scripts were witty, yet also serious when required. By the end of season 1, UNCLE had managed to overcome its initial listlessness into one of the strongest shows on TV.
From season 2 onward, UNCLE moved away somewhat from the somewhat serious tones of season 1 towards a more tongue in cheek approach. It was broadcast in colour, which added to the lightening of the stories. But UNCLE was facing a bit of a problem backstage in the production office. Starting with season 2, The Man From UNCLE faced a veritable merry go round of producers. Season 1 had one producer (Sam Rolfe); season 2 had 3. Each producer had a different vision for the show, so when most shows need consistency, UNCLE had none. When it finally did get some consistency, it was for all the wrong reasons. Partway through season 2, the Batman TV series arrived, and became a ratings smash. UNCLE’s network wanted the program to establish a similar tone, so outlandish premises soon became the order of the day. What worked for Batman, however, didn’t work for UNCLE. It lost steam over the next 2 seasons, and despite an attempt to return the show to its original tone, it was cancelled partway through season 4. It was a sad end to a fun series.
The Man From UNCLE, despite only lasting four seasons, remains a fun series to watch to this day. There was an energy on the show that is noticeable, and the talent behind it remains high. The casting was strong all around, especially in some of the guest star casting. The talent behind the scenes also helped make the show a great success. Writers such as Dean Hargrove and Harlan Ellison scripted episodes, and directors like Alf Kjellin and Joseph Sargent made the episodes fun to watch. The show spawned a short-lived spinoff (The Girl From UNCLE), comic books, novels, feature films, and countless other things. People who watch the show will likely never forget it. And, for a show that didn’t last as long as it could (or should) have, that’s saying something.
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