The Chicago School

With its orchestra, singers and dancers, straight man and comedian, Garroway at Large (Sun. 10 p.m., NBCTV) might be just another TV variety show. But on the TV screen, something surprising happens. Last week, back on the air after a summer vacation, Garroway again demonstrated an out-of-the-ordinary pace, outlook and quality that TV men have come to consider characteristic of the whole "Chicago school" of television.

Partly the difference lies in a freshness and informality. Partly it lies in a brash approach that encourages visual puns (e.g., after a harmonica quartet, Garroway is shown eating his way through an ear of corn).

With Imagination. Big, 37-year-old Dave Garroway, an amateur mechanic, gem cutter, tile-setter, photographer, bird fancier, cabinetmaker and bibliophile, says his scriptless show is planned by "four guys sitting around a table." The other three, all under 35, are Writer Charlie Andrews, an ex-hobo; Producer Ted Mills, an expatriate New Yorker; and Director Bill Hobin, an ex-drummer. The Garroway show's top council, with Burr Tillstrom (Kukla, Fran & Ollie) and Documentary Expert Ben Park, make up the brain trust of the close-knit, argumentative group that has developed the Chicago school. Explains NBC's Chicago Station Manager Jules Herbuveaux: "New York thinks there's nothing wrong with TV that the stage can't cure, and Hollywood thinks there's nothing wrong with TV that movies can't cure. Chicago goes its own way."

The Chicago group's imaginative approach has been born of necessity. Lacking big budgets, elaborate equipment and big-name talent, they are forced to shortcut the elaborate. They specialize in what they call "simplified realism" and "ad-lib drama." By banning studio audiences they can use the four walls of every set; short on cameras, booms and overhead trolleys, they never switch from one camera to another without a good reason.

Long & Short. Out of these techniques have come such shows as Ben Park's Saturday Square, and Hawkins Falls, based on nearby Woodstock, Ill.; Ted Mills's Portrait of America and Crisis; Charlie Andrews' Studs' Place, which drew 4,000 letters of protest (mostly from New York and Philadelphia) when it was dropped last month, and the Ransom Sherman Show, dedicated to the incurable inefficiency of the American male.

Of such shows, thus far only Garroway at Large, sponsored by Congoleum-Nairn Corp., has been a conspicuous commercial success, but their total impact on TV has been enormous. Fred Allen, due to make his own TV bow this month, says: "The Chicago shows are making an effort to do something. They're short on money, short on talent, but long on inventiveness." And NBC's Herbuveaux, who believes in a change of pace, adds: "After half an hour of being beat over the head by New York, people enjoy a half-hour of leaning back with Chicago."

Many radiomen think the Chicago experiment is doomed. They see a parallel between what is happening in TV and what happened in radio in the '30s, when Chicago pioneered in low-budget dramas, documentaries like The Empire Builders, and situation comedies like Amos 'n' Andy, Fibber McGee & Molly, and Vic and Sade. By 1937, almost 400 network shows a month were originating in Chicago for NBC alone. Then New York money and Hollywood climate and opportunities began to siphon off Chicago's talented radiomen, and most of the remaining shows degenerated into a mishmash of successful but seedy soap operas.

Dave Garroway, one of the first of Chicago's TV successes, may be one of the first to leave. Headed for a $250,000 income this year, he is reported considering a move to New York in 1951. Says he: "We'll move anywhere if they pay us enough money and give us legal assurances that the show won't be hurt."

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