One of the gauges of America's pulse after 9/11 was the late night talk show.  Much was said and written about how Dave, Jay, Bill, Conan, Jon, Craig and Saturday Night Live dealt with the disasters, especially with regard to the first new broadcast each show had to do after that day.  At the time, I was touched by most of the entries and thought most of the hosts did a fine job in a difficult situation.  Recently though, I was given some tapes of all those "first broadcasts back" and I watched all of them at least partway through.  Most, including ones I really respected at the time, I now found unwatchable.

While I do not question the sincerity or grief of anyone, I found all the shows overly maudlin and mannered and, with the possible exception of Mr. Maher on Politically Incorrect, horribly simplistic.  Somehow, they all reminded me of those horrible moments on the news when some reporter asks the survivor of a tragedy, "How does it feel to lose your home and family?"  I always feel that pain is being paraded and emotions exploited for no good reason.

(One thing which kinda jolted me was how everyone kept talking about "more than five thousand dead."  The total has since been revised to more like 2819, which is still, of course, ample cause for all the sorrow we can muster.  Still, I find it odd that in the last year, this happy downgrade hasn't attracted much attention.)

I also, watching the tapes, was struck by how much importance was attached to the difficulty of resuming production on a comedy show…as if that was one of the significant tragedies of September 11.  And some of the tears — especially Dan Rather's on Letterman — now seemed horribly affected and mannered.  I don't think he said one thing that was insightful or informative that night.  It was all a matter of "look how upset I am, how upset we all are."  Those who enjoy the bully pulpit of a national audience ought to be offering something constructive and healing, as opposed to ratcheting up the despair.

I am not suggesting that any of the late night shows did bad jobs, or could have been expected to do better jobs.  They did what they had to do for those airings and I'm not sure that it matters much that some of it may seem inappropriate, nearly a year after the fact.

Still, I think it's interesting and not unhealthy to note how sensibilities have changed, largely for the better, since September 11.  The cliché of that week was "everything has changed" and I suspect most folks today would suggest that things have changed a lot less than we thought they would.  Some of us thought World War III was commencing and that at the very least, the attack would overshadow everything we did and everything we said for years to come.  It hasn't.  We are a far more resilient people than we thought at the time, as evidenced by the fact that people are finally starting to deal with problems of that day and asking some hard questions instead of moaning and sitting shiva.  Watching those late night talk shows, I saw a lot of crying and reverence and even the occasional bit of eloquence.  But I didn't see anyone talking about recovery or moving on or doing anything positive.

The anniversary of 9/11 is upon us and television is pulling out all stops to show respect for the dead and to celebrate our pain…and I'm sure Dave, Jay, Conan and the others will offer a respectful dose of all that.  But I wish one of them would remind us that not everything has changed and that we show respect for the departed by doing everything we can to prevent further disasters, not by wallowing in grief and airing endless montages of old news footage.  I suspect though that, in an industry where everyone is terrified of being accused of insensitivity and lack of patriotism, it's easier just to salute the flag, curse out Osama, and cry about our dead.

A few nights ago, Game Show Network ran a 1957 episode of To Tell the Truth in which one of the contestants was Jack Bothwell, a New Jersey restaurant host who said that, in his younger days, he'd played Freckles in the famous "Our Gang" comedies produced by Hal Roach.  As per usual for the program, Bothwell and two impostors answered questions from the panel whose mission was to identify the real Jack Bothwell.  In this case, their problem was a little more difficult because — as the show's producers obviously were unaware — all three men answering the questions were impostors.  You see, there was no character named Freckles in the "Our Gang" films and Jack Bothwell never appeared in any of them.

We are nearing the day when a great industry will draw to a close…people claiming falsely that they were kid actors in "Our Gang."  There have been a staggering number of them, some claiming to have played Spanky or Alfalfa or some other actual character; others bragging of a non-existent role like Freckles.  Not that long ago, the ABC news show, 20/20, did a whole profile of an older black man who, they said, played Buckwheat.  Some of these folks have published books or sold autographs.  Others just seem to want the stardom.

There are other explanations for some of the fakes.  There were several "Our Gang" imitations offered up by Roach's competitors and in later years, some of the grown-up kid actors who'd been in those knock-offs either got confused or, more likely, decided there was more prestige in saying they'd been in "Our Gang" than in, say, "The Kiddie Troupers."  There were also kids who played bit parts or extra roles in "Our Gang" who later decided they'd been regular featured players.

And there's one other interesting source of fake Our Gangers.  At the peak of the series' popularity, there was a gent touring the mid-west, working a "Harold Hill" style scam.  He'd breeze into some small town and give an interview to the local paper as Robert MacGowan, director of the famous "Our Gang" series.  That was the name of the actual director but this wasn't him.  The fake MacGowan would announce that he was interested in getting some rural, small town values into the shorts and that he was scouting for kids who could act.  Naturally, hundreds of parents would drag their offspring down to meet him and he would suggest to each that Junior would be a natural; that he could go directly to Hollywood and earn thousands a week if only he had a little more polish and seasoning.  The phony director — and there may have been more than one con artist working this line — would introduce an acting teacher (actually, his wife) who had just arrived to help his talent search and who, for a nice fee, could make the child camera-ready.  There were a number of variations on the scam, including some that involved actually using locals to film what the bogus director said was a genuine "Our Gang" comedy.  One can easily imagine a kid who was in one of them later believing (or choosing to believe) he was actually in an "Our Gang" movie.

None of this, by the way, seems to explain Jack Bothwell.  He appears to simply have been a fraud.

The other interesting thing about that spot on To Tell the Truth was that one of the fake Bothwells was a former police officer who had recently joined the staff of another game show.  His name was Barney Martin and he later became quite a successful actor.  Oddly enough, he got more answers correct than the "real" Jack Bothwell.  Asked where in Hollywood the Hal Roach Studio was located, Martin said it was in Culver City (correct) whereas Bothwell said he didn't know because his "Our Gang" movies had been shot on the East Coast.  In truth, no "Our Gang" films were made there.

Mr. Bothwell made the rounds of talk shows and did personal appearances before he passed away around 1967, complete with newspaper obits about his career in "Our Gang."  I don't know if anyone ever called him on his little fib but I do know he wasn't telling the truth on To Tell the Truth.

Gosh.  If you can't believe a 40+ year old game show, what can you believe?

I don't smoke.  I've never smoked.  Not a puff, at least not directly.  I have, however, ingested enough second-hand smoke to, in the opinion of a leading respiratory physician, do some serious damage to my nostrils.  But I, myself, have never smoked.

I've never smoked for pretty much the same reason I've never taken a ball peen hammer and hit myself repeatedly over the head.  Both seem like enormously unappealing, self-destructive things to do to one's self.  Logically, of course, I know that so many intelligent people have smoked and/or continue to smoke that it must have some positive reward but I just don't understand it.  Actually, most of the smokers I know seem to regret they ever started.

Anyway, the point is that I don't smoke and I hate being around smoke.  When people around me insist that they have the right to smoke around me, I used to insist that — in that case — I had the same right to vomit on them. One time, years ago, I actually did.  I have a hunch that, thereafter, that smoker was a little more prudent about where he lit up.

All of this said, I find myself in this curious conundrum: I more or less agree with those who oppose a ban on smoking in certain public places, such as restaurants.  Yesterday watching Crossfire, I found myself in general accord with Robert Novak and those who are arguing against New York's pending law that would forbid all smoking in eateries.  I don't want to be sitting in the Carnegie Deli, partaking of a side of Marlboro aroma along with my corned beef sandwich…but I feel the greater damage may lie in allowing government to get this deep into what could and should be a market-determined decision.

I think the law should be not that smoking is banned in restaurants (as it is in many cities) but that those that did allow it would have to post a conspicuous "Smoking Allowed" sign out front and perhaps mention it in all advertising larger than a certain size.  Folks who smoke could go to these places.  Folks like me could avoid them.  Eventually, as business thrived or suffered, restaurants would configure their policies to serve the public in proper proportion.  Surveys suggest that anywhere from 20% to 30% of Americans enjoy (if enjoyment, it be) the occasional smoke.  I suspect that if what I propose were to be enacted, most neighborhoods would wind up with 10% to 15% "Smoking Restaurants."  The reason the percentage would be lower would be because (a) even many smokers prefer not to eat around it and (b) when a non-smoker and a smoker dined together, it would have to be at a non-smoking establishment.

Now, I already know some of the objections and will attempt to answer them here…

It's unfair to waiters and other employees to make them inhale all that second-hand smoke.

Absolutely.  And I am not suggesting that a restaurant that is now non-smoking should be allowed to suddenly let everyone light up Marlboros.  I think the default would be non-smoking and that an establishment would have to give its patrons and employees ample notice before allowing it.  Since waiting tables is largely a transitory existence, that would give employees time to find employment elsewhere.  It's like if a vegan restaurant were to decide to start serving Prime Rib.  The staff in such places is usually anti-meat, and they have every right to be anti-meat.  They just shouldn't be able to prevent the owner from changing his cuisine.

This kind of thing has been tried with "smoking airlines" and other establishments that went bust, and even a non-smoking casino in Las Vegas that went bankrupt.

The casino was already in deep financial trouble before they tried that policy and the airlines that have tried it have been marginal, as well.  But even if every business that permits smoking goes broke and no "smoking" businesses remain, fine.  Let that be determined by market demand, not by government oversight.

Restaurants in some cities tried having smoking areas and it didn't work.  The smoke kept drifting into the non-smoking area.

That's not what I'm suggesting at all.  A restaurant would have to be one or the other and could not try splitting one business into two so they could have it both ways.  Hotels, let's note, seem to be doing okay with smoking rooms and non-smoking rooms on separate floors…and occasionally they convert one into the other, depending on what their customers seem to demand.  Why couldn't restaurants be one or the other?

If your favorite restaurant went smoking, you wouldn't be able to go to it.

True.  It would cease to be my favorite restaurant. It would also cease if it purged its menu of everything but cole slaw.  But so what?  They have the right to do that and I can find another favorite restaurant.  Should the government step in and insist they keep my favorite items on the menu?

But this is different.  This is about protecting the health of people.

Which people?  Non-smokers?  I'm all for protecting their health, especially since I am one.  But if we have clearly-labelled smoking restaurants and they go in, isn't that the same as if they go to a hotel and ask for a smoking room?  Should we be protecting them from that?  As for protecting the health of smokers, what difference does it make if they can smoke in a restaurant when they can go outside and smoke, smoke at home, smoke in their cars, etc.?

As I keep saying, I hate smoke.  But I think it's important to be consistent to one's principles and one of mine is that people have the right to do whatever they want to themselves as long as it doesn't harm others.  I think you have the right to ingest alcohol or drugs, so long as you don't go out and drive.  I think you have the right to kill yourself.  And I certainly think you have the right to smoke so we shouldn't enact unnecessary laws to make you a social pariah, especially when folks like me can avoid the smoke with minimal effort.  I really feel strongly about this.

On the other hand, any time I find myself agreeing with Robert Novak, I figure my opinion is at least a little suspect.

A piece I posted over on my News page about Bill Cullen brought an amazing amount of response, including this note from Rich Twoley…

I had never realized how on those quiz-panel shows, the producers were making an important decision when they decided who to start the questioning with.  Did that apply to all shows or just I've Got A Secret?

All shows.  But it was especially evident in the famed "Mystery Guest" segments on What's My Line?  People occasionally accused a show like that of being rigged…of giving the answers to the panel.  There was, of course, no reason why they should do that, since the show was most entertaining when the panel was lost and guessing wildly off the target.  In fact, on What's My Line? and a couple of other game shows (especially The Name's The Same, which Game Show Network occasionally resurrects), it's obvious they were sometimes giving panelists false leads so their questions would be funnier.

On What's My Line?, they had to prevent the panelists — especially Bennett Cerf and Dorothy Kilgallen, who were fierce competitors — from knocking off the Mystery Guest too quickly and prematurely ending the fun of the game.  This was difficult because the main source of Mystery Guests was folks who were either performing in New York at the time or making the rounds to promote a soon-to-open movie or other project.  If Bob Hope had a film opening in Manhattan any day now, there was a better-than-average chance he'd be the Mystery Guest.

Kilgallen was a reporter and before each broadcast, she'd go over the newspapers and press releases to make up a list of likely Mystery Guests.  Cerf went her one better: As the publisher of Random House books, he had a whole staff that dealt with publicists and book tours and who was in town for promotional purpose.  He'd have the staff make up a list for him and, before the show and during commercial breaks, he'd pull it out of his pocket and cram for the Mystery Guest spot.

To make it more difficult for him, the producer (Gil Fates) would usually have the questioning commence with Cerf.  If he didn't…if the person before Cerf asked, "Do you have a movie opening this week?" and the Mystery Guest said yes, the odds were that Bennett would nail it on his first question.  Having him ask the icebreaker question generally ensured that the game would at least last until each of the four panelists had asked a question.

The problem got worse in later years when they did the syndicated What's My Line?, which Game Show Network has just begun rerunning again.  Apart from occasional guest shots, Cerf had departed but Soupy Sales was on the panel, and Soupy was too good at guessing the Mystery Guest.  He knew every obscure show biz celebrity — and on the syndicated version, some of them were pretty damned obscure — and, no matter what the vocal disguise, he could recognize most voices.  Fates, who was still producer, appealed to Sales to go easy.  Not only was the entertainment value of the endgame suffering but the shows kept running short and it was necessary to pad with lame interviews.  The Soupman, however, wasn't about to miss a chance to win.  To try and cut down on his quick identifications, the producer instituted a new rule, which they called "Fates' Law."  It specified that if a panelist guessed a name and was wrong, the panelist had to remove their blindfold and sit out the rest of the game.  It slowed Soupy down, but only a little.

I mentioned in the Cullen piece that one obstacle to a new wave of panel-type game shows might be a lack of great panelists.  Another could be a paucity of experienced game show producers who know how to set up and run a contest for maximum entertainment value.  Guys like Gil Fates had done them for years in the formative days of television — and some even in radio.  They perfected the rules of their games and how to make them work.  In today's TV industry, where shows have to prove themselves quickly or get axed, they'd never have the chance.