The Umbrella TV Series of the 1970s: The Saga of The Bold Ones, the NBC Mystery Movie, and Others

In 1955, U.S television launched one of its most interesting experiments: the umbrella series, in which different TV shows were rotated in the same time slot under a single title. The original umbrella series was Warner Bros. Presents, in which the TV shows Cheyenne, Casablanca, and King’s Row were all shown in the same time slot. The only one of the three to be renewed was Cheyenne, the Clint Walker Western that evolved into a launch pad for other TV series. The umbrella series concept seemed to die a swift death.

However, it was revived unexpectedly in 1969 when NBC borrowed the format for The Bold Ones—which was three separate series linked only by the fact that (apparently) the protagonists were bold! The rotating shows were The New Doctors (with John Saxon, David Hartman, and E.G. Marshall), The Lawyers (Burl Ives, Joseph Campanella, and James Farentino), and The Law Enforcers (with Leslie Nielsen and Hari Rhodes). The last series performed poorly and was replaced the following year with The Senator, starring Hal Holbrook as an idealistic politician. For the third year, only The New Doctors and The Lawyers were retained. In its final season, The Bold Ones consisted only of its three physicians, even though the umbrella title was still used.

In 1970, NBC introduced the umbrella series Four in One. This time, there was no attempt to connect the separate shows even loosely. Each series consisted of six episodes shown back-to-back…and then the next series would start. The four shows were: McCloud (with Dennis Weaver); San Francisco International Airport (with Lloyd Bridges); Night Gallery (hosted by Rod Serling); and The Psychiatrist (with Roy Thinnes). The advantage of the format was that each series got a limited try-out. It worked out well for Night Gallery, which was renewed and given its own time slot, and McCloud, which moved to The NBC Mystery Movie the following year. The downside to the format was that viewers didn’t have time to get invested in a series before the next one started. As a result, Four in One was deemed a failure.

That didn’t stop NBC from continuing to experiment with the umbrella series concept. In 1971, it launched the most successful of all umbrella series: The NBC Mystery Movie. In its original form, this 90-minutes series consisted of three shows: the previously mentioned McCloud; Columbo (starring Peter Falk); and McMillan & Wife (with Rock Hudson and Susan St. James). The NBC Mystery Movie was a hit from the start and finished among the Top 15 TV series in its first year. Realizing it had a lucrative franchise on its hands, NBC tried to add a fourth show to the original three and eventually expanded to a second night of mysteries with The NBC Wednesday Night Mystery Movie. Alas, detectives came and went quickly, including: Richard Boone as Western detective in Hec Ramsey; Tony Curtis as a con man detective in McCoy; James Farentino as an expensive detective in Cool Million; James McEachin as an African-American family man detective in Tenafly; and Helen Hayes and Mildred Natwick as The Snoop Sisters. The only segments that really clicked were Banacek (with George Peppard as an insurance investigator) and Quincy, M.E. starring Jack Klugman. They each earned their own time slots, though Quincy was the far more successful of the two.

The success of the mystery movie prompted ABC and CBS to develop their own umbrella series—although neither was successful. ABC’s attempt was The Men (love that title!), a 1972 one-season wonder consisting of Assignment: Vienna (with Robert Conrad); The Delphi Bureau (with Laurence Luckenbill); and Jigsaw (with James Wainwright). CBS opted to go with big-name stars with the 1973 New CBS Tuesday Night Movie. Each month, CBS showed two original made-for-TV movies and then one episode each of Hawkins and Shaft. The former series starred James Stewart as a “countrified” crafty lawyer. In the latter series, Richard Roundtree reprised his film role as private eye John Shaft (the violence displayed in the movies was toned down considerably for the small screen).

Except for the NBC Mystery Movie, the umbrella series faded quickly. There were attempts to revive the format in 1979 with Cliffhangers (an innovative experiment worthy of its own article) and NBC Novels for Television (which were basically miniseries…not unlike PBS’s long-running Masterpiece Theater and Mystery!). Unfortunately, the business side of TV production killed the concept. It was simply cheaper to produce one series with a regular cast and standing sets than to multiply those costs by two or three. Variety may be the spice of life, but on television, it can be expensive!

31 Days of Halloween: Like an Itch You Can't Scratch - "Caterpillar"- Night Gallery

When the idea for the 31 Days of Halloween was first proposed I tried to think of the scariest motion picture or television show that I'd ever seen; Psycho, The Exorcist, Don't Look Now, Jaws, Alien, Aliens came quickly to mind. It was harder remembering a television show that chilled me to the core. I thought it was "A Feast of Blood" from Night Gallery; however, when I viewed it on line it seemed rather tame and silly. But while doing research I came across what many consider to be Night Gallery's most famous production "Caterpillar". When I read the synopsis I instantly knew that this was the episode that had caused many a nightmare and reinforced my fear of earwigs, those ugly little bugs with nasty looking pincers at both ends of its body.

Set on a tobacco plantation in the steamy jungles of Malaysia, the teleplay depicts the deterioration of one man's already diminished soul by the unyielding forces of nature, the constant rain and debilitating heat, and his increasing boredom and dissatisfaction with the social restrictions inherent in the life of a European plantation owner. And whatever is left of his morality and integrity disintegrates into a murderous lust for the young wife of his much older employer.

Steven Macy (Laurence Harvey), disillusioned with his life in England, signs a one-year contract to work for a tobacco grower in Borneo. His employer Mr. Warwick (Tom Helmore) is married to a much younger and stunningly beautiful woman(Joanna Pettet). Macy erroneously believes that the lovely Mrs. Warwick is unhappy in her marriage and begins to make unwanted sexual overtures to her which she quickly rebuffs, declaring that she loves her husband and plans to be with him forever on the plantation. In spite of these blunt rebukes, Macy's obsession with Mrs. Warwick escalates to a dangerous level.

Robinson (Don Knight), a felon who chose deportation to Malaysia over serving time in a London jail, continues his unsavory dealings in the local village, lurking around in seedy pubs, trespassing on private property, offering his questionable services for hire. On one of his forays onto the Warwick plantation, ostensibly to sell kindling, he witnesses one of Macy's failed attempts to woo Mrs. Warwick. He recognizes Macy's untenable situation and presents a way to solve the problem. He tells Macy about a little beastie called an earwig which likes to feed on wax. Supposedly, if one of the little critters gets into your ear it will eat the wax, but unable to move backwards, it continues boring through the brain causing unimaginable pain as it seeks a way out. This results in the death of the earwig and its host. Macy is appalled at the implication that murder will be done, but tells Robinson to do it as soon as possible, that very night, and pays him 100 pounds to place the earwig into Mr. Warwick's ear.

The next morning at breakfast Macy intently watches his employer for any signs that something is wrong, while noticing a strange feeling in his own ear. This increases in intensity and when Macy holds a handkerchief to his ear it comes away bloody. The realization that the earwig was placed in his ear drives him screaming from the room.

What happens to Macy over the next two weeks is disgusting and horrific and sickening. He lies in the bed, hands tied to the bed post to prevent him from scratching his face off, his countenance twisted with the unbearable agony he suffers. When Robinson appears at his bedroom window to "apologize" for the "mistake", Macy painfully and slowly utters, "I... want... to... die". But he doesn't die! The earwig reached his opposite ear and fell out. Macy confronts the others, expecting to be taken to jail and tried for attempted murder. He tells them that being tortured on the rack, flayed alive, and even hanging would be preferable to the excruciating, persistent, driving itch caused by the earwigs journey through his brain. Mr. Warwick informs him that there will be no arrest and no trial in Malaysia or England. Macy realizes that there is something they are not telling him and after Mrs. Warwick is asked to leave the room, the doctor tells him why he he won't be suffering any punishment from the law. The doctor was the one who caught the earwig as it fell out of Macy's ear; he killed it and discovered that it was a female--and a female lays eggs. There is no reaction shot of Macy and as the screen fades to black, we hear a bloodcurdling scream of terror emanating from the house.

The most amazing thing about this episode is that the horror is not derived from graphic depictions of bugs and blood, but rather from the brilliant, descriptive teleplay by Rod Serling. The fear and disgust we experience does not result from gratuitous scenes of the earwig plowing through Macy's brain or blood gushing from his mouth or nose. There are no close-ups of the doctor squishing the bug. It's in the telling of the story in such a way that our imaginations are given free reign to conjure up our own versions of the hideous images and unrelenting pain suggested by the script.

The actors get their jobs done by accurately delineating their characters and setting up the interactions that follow. The lovely and talented Joanna Pettet is the perfect object of desire, her radiant beauty a forbidden fruit for Steven Macy. But it's Laurence Harvey's terror filled eyes and quiet moaning, his pain ravaged face, his disheveled and unwashed appearance, lying in bed with his hands tied to the bed posts, that enhance the elements of horror, disgust and fear in Serling's script and make "Caterpillar" one of Night Gallery's scariest episodes.