We had some fun last time looking at some 1950s -era TV Guide magazines featuring movie stars on the boob tube, and there are plenty more.  First, we need to acknowledge that TV Guide today is not the same as it was years ago; now it’s a mere tabloid-ish facsimile of its former self.  Granted times have changed, and the idea of consulting a printed guide to try to get a handle on your weekly viewing choices is unanimously agreed to be completely inadequate to the task.  TV Guide was perfect for its time, and like Seinfeld‘s Frank Costanza, many of us loved that little magazine with the cute red logo.  I used to get the next week’s issue as soon as it was availble — usually the Tuesday of the week before — and it was a thrill to go page-by-page and see what treasures would be in store for you.  Being on the cover of TV Guide meant that you would be seen, read, touched and stuffed between the sofa cushions by millions of eager viewers.  Ah, those were the days.  (Pictured above, Steve McQueen, who essentially started his career in live TV work, moved into screen roles, including his heroic role in the sci fi classic The Blob, went back to TV in 1958 to star in the Western series Wanted: Dead or Alive, and then never looked back as he attained continuous major movie stardom before his too-soon death at the ago of 50 in 1980.) 

By the 1960s, plenty of movie actors agreed that television offered wonderful opportunities to continue their careers.  Steady jobs and regular paychecks lured many over, creating what baby boomers remember as the wonderful TV of our youth.  On the about-face front, we had several former highly acclaimed dramatic stars make the switch into comedy.  One was Andy Griffith, who though primarily known for his comedic characters in movies like No Time For Sergeants, had seared the screen in the savage A Face in the Crowd (1957).  He originated his Sheriff Andy Taylor character on an episode of Danny Thomas’ Make Room For Daddy series, and in 1960 began his own The Andy Griffith Show, now a television classic for over forty years.

Actress Shirley Booth, who had won an Academy Award for her role in 192′s Come Back, Little Sheba but made few movies in the meantime (mostly working in theater), made TV a cleaner and funnier place with her title role as Hazel.  The character of Hazel the maid was created by cartoonist Ted Key in a long-running comic strip, and we all remember her “Yes, Mr. B!” line, if nothing else.  The series also starred actor Don DeFore, who had enjoyed a long and successful movie career as an affable supporting presence in dozens of films over the years.   Miss Booth also took home several Emmy Awards for the role during its five year run.

We can’t forget Academy Award-winning actor Ernest Borgnine (for 1955′s Marty).  He had terrorized Frank Sinatra and Montgomery Clift in From Here to Eternity, among other dastardly screen deeds, but he became one of TV’s favorite funnymen in the service comedy McHale’s Navy, beginning in 1962.   What about one of Borgnine’s co-stars in Eternity, Donna Reed, who won a Supporting Actress Oscar for her role in it?  Reed had already found TV fame as a gently comic housewife married to an obstetrician in her own sitcom The Donna Reed Show, beginning a few years earlier in 1958.  

Actor/hoofer Buddy Ebsen had mostly traded in his movie career for a lively television one in guest roles and limited series until hitting “black gold…Texas tea” in 1962 as Jed Clampett, head of The Beverly Hillbillies in that long-running sitcom.  Another big screen favorite, both for light roles and much darker ones (such as Double Indemnity) was Fred MacMurray, who went all suburban nice guy for his role as what some call the ultimate TV father in nearly 400 episodes of My Three Sons, beginning in 1960. 

Or how about the exquisitely talented child star Patty Duke, who after scooping up an Oscar as Best Supporting Actress for her stunning work as Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker, became the ideal America teenager Patty Lane — as well as her proper British cousin Cathy — in the charming The Patty Duke Show, starting in 1963.

What about B-movie screen beauty Yvonne DeCarlo?  She achieved her exalted and immortal place in pop culture not from her film roles, but from her 2 season role as Herman’s beloved wife in The Munsters, opposite Fred Gwynne.  (The same could be said for the alluring Carolyn Jones for her similarly short-lived role as the seductive Morticia Addams in the competing ghoul-com The Addams Family.)

Dramatic movie actors and actresses also frequently made TV their primary home.  In 1963, Oscar-winning actor (for his supporting role in 1950′s Twelve O’Clock High) Dean Jagger teamed up with the earnest James Franciscus in the thoughtful high school drama Mr. Novak.  Jagger had been active in TV since its inception, and moved back and forth between big and little screen for the rest of his career, including his last TV role in a 1985 episode of St. Elsewhere.  Jagger was twice nominated for an Emmy for his Mr. Novak role.

The dapper trio of Gig Young, Charles Boyer and David Niven — accomplished screen actors to a man — teamed up as The Rogues, a clever but short-lived caper series which debuted in 1964.  What a cast! 

I will leave you for now with a series of TV Guide covers of the brilliant director Alfred Hitchcock, who embraced television with his Alfred Hitchcock Presents anthology series beginning in 1955.  In addition to occasionally stepping in to direct an episode, Hitchcock’s trademark droll host segments turned the series into a must-watch, and he was nominated for an Emmy in that capacity in 1956, as well as for directing two episodes.  Hitchcock’s puckish and agreeably morbid sense of humor certainly tickled the television audience, and he also skewered the sponsors’ annoying commercial breaks with courteous disdain, letting the audience share in the joke while still participating in the transaction. 

P.S.:  If you’re looking to acquire any classic TV Guide covers, there are several dealers on the net with a good array for sale.  It’s a shame that TV Guide itself hasn’t made the full run of its covers — and the magazine content, too — available for enjoyment and research by TV fans everywhere.  They’re really missing the boat.  Once upon a time they were available on microfilm, but now’s the time to get these valuable documents of America’s television history onto the web.  Look at the wonderful job Life magazine (and Google) has done, here.