They Went Thataway

In Britain last week, commercial television (never to be confused with the state-supervised BBC) celebrated its fifth birthday by repaying the last shilling of the -L-550,000 government loan that got the enterprise started. Despite such success, critics carped that a Briton's TV set was no longer his castle. The big payoff, wrote the London Evening Standard, was financed by U.S. shows. "Not only are there too many imported programmes on the home screen, but our homebred programmes are becoming more and more influenced by America."

The extent of U.S. influence is as familiar to British televiewers as Maverick or Richard (Have Gun) Boone. On London's commercial Channel 9 last week, there were more than nine hours of U.S. shows. And the BBC supplied another eight. Caught up in the cultural invasion, armchair wayfarers could head out with Wagon Train or Highway Patrol. With tea they got Annie Oakley, Mickey Mouse, Popeye; with cocktails it was Lucille Ball in Lucy or Ann (Private Secretary) Sothern; with the bedtime mild-and-bitter came OSS, or Lee Marvin's M Squad. On commercial channels in the south, Midlands, and north, screens flashed with Wild Bill Hickok, Lassie. Joe Friday, Martin Kane or Flash Gordon.

Still, there were no signs of popular resentment. "Oh. westerns may sometimes bore." said one Londoner 'ast week, "but for comedy shows the Americans' are so far ahead that we can only raise our hats and say. 'Tney went thataway.'"

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