Christmas Day of 1963, a new TV show debuted on CBS. It was produced by Allen Funt, whose Candid Camera was then riding high in the ratings for that network. It's not so much the practice any more but it used to be kind of understood that if you had a hit on a network, that network would buy another show from you. Mr. Funt came up with Tell It To The Camera, which reversed the principle of his other series. Instead of catching ordinary people on a hidden camera, the new show put ordinary people in front of a non-hidden camera and invited them to say anything they wanted. They could recite a poem, sing a song, tell a joke, express an opinion…anything. Crews were dispatched across America to film people on the street in different cities.
Does that sound like a great idea for a show to you? It doesn't sound like a great idea for a show to me. And after I saw one episode, I couldn't fathom how it sounded like a great idea for a show to anyone. It was one of the most boring things I ever saw on television and America agreed with me. CBS yanked it after thirteen weeks, by which time there were probably more people on an episode than were watching it. I wonder if before it went on, anyone at CBS said, "You know, this is the perfect time for a series like this, so soon after the President was assassinated. The people of America feel a crying need to express themselves and to speak out." And like we need more proof that TV doesn't learn from its mistakes: In 1980, producer George Schlatter used his clout from Real People to sell NBC on Speak Up, America…same premise as Tell It To The Camera, same short run.
Mr. Funt's show was pretty obscure. As far as I can tell, there's no mention of it over in the Internet Movie Database. If you do a Google search for "Tell It To The Camera Funt," all you'll find are a lot of articles in newspaper libraries like the one above. Mostly, you'll find terrible reviews.
I remember the series for an interesting reason. When I was in high school, I had this friend named Mike. He called me one day and had me help him on a secret mission. A friend of his had tipped him off that CBS was cleaning out its library. If one went at a certain time to a certain set of dumpsters in a public alley alongside CBS Television City, one could fish lots of 16mm prints of old TV shows out of said dumpster. This we did, taking home about, I'd guess, 100-150 cans of Amos & Andy, General Electric Theater, The Jack Benny Program and many others. There were several episodes of Tell It To Groucho, the short-lived series Groucho Marx did as a follow-up to You Bet Your Life. There was also an amazing film — an hour of You Bet Your Life from when it was on radio. They hauled cameras into the studio and filmed a broadcast, apparently as a test to gauge how the show would look or should look when it was transferred to television.
Mike and I showed some of these films around our school and at local groups and then at some point, Mike sold them all to a collector. A lot of these shows are available in the home video market and I wonder how many, if any, are transfers from the prints we rescued from the garbage.
One thing we picked up — and I'm not sure why — was all thirteen episodes of Tell It To The Camera. We had to act fast to get the films because there were studio guards to shoo us away. I think we quickly sorted film cans into "take" and "leave" piles, put the Funt shows into a "leave" pile, then accidentally took one of those stacks. Later, we watched about half of one episode. It was a great print but a terrible show…but still, we couldn't bring ourselves to throw them away.
I cannot explain why but a thought came to me: Maybe Allen Funt would want these. I don't know why but I found the number of his production company in New York and made a phone call to his office. This was back when "long distance" phone calls were not inexpensive. I explained to the receptionist that I had some of their films they might want and she put me through to an officious gent who didn't give me his name but I'm pretty sure was not Allen Funt. I got as far as explaining to him what I had when he interrupted, half-yelling, "How did you get those? Those are our copyrighted property!"
I explained that a friend of mine and I had fished them out of a trash dumpster. He half-yelled, "What were they doing in a trash dumpster?"
I said I didn't know but we'd saved them from being burned or dumped in the ocean or whatever would have happened to them. I then told him, "I'd be glad to ship them back to you if you'll pay for postage." I thought that was damned nice of me but instead, he began full-out yelling, "WHAT? YOU WANT US TO PAY RANSOM FOR OUR OWN PROPERTY?"
I said it wasn't ransom. I was going to go to a lot of trouble to get them to him and I wouldn't make a dime on the deal. He shouted back in all caps, "YOU WILL HAVE THOSE FILMS IN MY OFFICE IN 24 HOURS OR I WILL CALL MY FRIENDS AT THE FBI AND HAVE YOU ARRESTED!!!"
Since I hadn't given anyone there my name and since I didn't figure he had the capacity to trace the call, I hung up on him. Later, I gave the films back to Mike and I think he finally threw them away or gave them away or something. A few years ago, I met Allen Funt's son Bill and I told him the story. He sighed and told me their company didn't have any copies of those shows. Well, that's why.