From Those Were the Days:

1921 - The first tennis match on radio was broadcast on KDKA in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. This was a natural since KDKA was the first commercial radio station in the United States. Within eight months the powers that be figured out that sports on radio would bring in big sales revenues. And so, the Davis Cup match between Great Britain and Australia was aired on the radio; but much to the wonderment of KDKA’s listeners. Tennis anyone?

1927 - Radio station 2XAG, later named WGY, the General Electric station in Schenectady, NY, began experimental operations from a 100,000-watt transmitter. Later, the FCC regulated the power of AM radio stations to not exceed 50,000 watts on ‘clear channels’ (where few, if any, stations would cause interference with each other).

1940 - Crime Doctor introduced a new kind of radio hero to audiences. The CBS Radio program presented Dr. Benjamin Ordway, the show’s main character, who was a victim of amnesia. He once was a criminal, but got hit on the head, and suddenly began to work as a crime fighter. Nice twist.
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At the Stroke of Eight

The 1939 Columbia serial Mandrake the Magician rolls on with Chapter 11, in which we find that despite destroying one entire wing of the Wasp’s sanitarium hideout in an effort to destroy Mandrake and Betty Houston, the magician and his main squeeze are still alive and kicking. The Wasp and his gang beat a hasty retreat, grabbing the radium energy machine and escaping out the secret passageway while Mandrake and Company remain stupefied at how nobody was injured in the explosion. (Well, at least Betty has the presence of mind to faint from the excitement.) Mandrake and Webster investigate the secret escape route and our magician hero discovers an incriminating receipt—a bill for a rental car. (I hope you would-be criminals in the audience take something away from this: give a hoot—don’t pollute.)

(By the way, I love Mandrake’s line re: the discovery of the secret exit: “Andre, we’ve stumbled onto something…this is the secret entrance to the rest home—they can cut off the highway back there and come in through here.” Pause. “Well, so much for that.” Yeah, move it along, folks…nothing to see here.)

Mandrake later reveals to his friends his discovery of the devastating car rental receipt, and he has a brainstorm in which he’s convinced that “one of our circle” is in actuality the Wasp. He and Lothar make tracks for the rental place, and they spot Dirk getting into another car (I would like to have heard his explanation to the rental agent as to why the last car had bullet holes), so they drive off after him. Dirk manages to lose the tail by slipping into an abandoned store front, which—yes, this is a coinky-dink!—serves as the main hide-out for the Wasp! His Waspness is rather non-plussed about Dirk’s arrival: “Dirk—mistakes are fatal…” “But it will never happen again, sir,” Dirk snivels, in his patented apple-polishing way. (Truer words were never spoken, as you'll see in a moment.)

Meanwhile, Professor Houston’s newest machine—which is supposed to act as a “nullifier” towards the radium energy thingamajig—is almost completed (which begs the question of why Dr. Doofus didn’t build it at the same time as the other to assure that no evildoer could wreak havoc with it), so Mandrake hits upon the scheme of assembling all the members of his “circle” to the house that evening. But there's bad news for Dirk. Granted, he’s been a loyal underling, but according to the Wasp: “You know more about the Wasp than any living man—and that…is fatal!” (Hold it a sec—I thought mistakes were fatal…) Dirk, demonstrating that there’s a fine line between stupidity and loyalty, allows himself to walk into a room outside the Wasp’s lair, where the arch-criminal releases more poison gas. (Ah, Dirk…we hardly knew ye.)

At Mandrake’s that evening, his guests are surprised to learn that the Professor has completed the nullifying machine and just as he is adding the final part, he drops it on the floor, prompting an unknown someone to kick it across the room (we see only their shoes from underneath the table). Unbeknownst to Mandrake, the Wasp has set the radium energy machine (sort of like TiVo, when you think about it) to destroy Mandrake Manor…and as the room begins to shake violently…

Tomorrow, the final chapter: “The Reward of Treachery!”
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“What do we do now?”

Since the presidential campaign is upon us (and since I am an avowed political junkie), I had the urge to see The Candidate (1972) again—so I made it one of three rentals this week from Netflix. This wickedly sly satire, directed by Michael Ritchie and scripted by Jeremy Larner (a former speechwriter for Senator Eugene McCarthy during his 1968 presidential bid), is one of the very best films on the subject of politics—Larner was even rewarded with an Oscar in 1972 for his well-written screenplay.

Liberal legal-aid lawyer Bill McKay (Robert Redford) is recruited by party hack Marvin Lucas (Peter Boyle) to run in California’s Democratic primary and go up against the incumbent, popular Republican Senator Crocker Jarmon (Don Porter), in the general election come fall. McKay is hesitant to get involved in politics, but Lucas seduces him into believing that the race will benefit him by providing a pulpit for his idealism—in fact, he’s not even supposed to win. As the campaign progresses, though, McKay might possibly have a shot at upsetting Jarmon—and he finds himself compromising his earlier positions and watering down his message; having done so and emerging triumphant, he turns to Lucas and asks him the question that's the title of this post.

Star Redford and director Ritchie had worked together before on an earlier film entitled Downhill Racer (1969), with Redford as the title character who joins the U.S. ski team and clashes with its coach (Gene Hackman). I’ve long been an admirer of Ritchie’s work; he had a definite knack for exposing the soft white underbelly of Americana in movies like Smile (1975), a corrosive look at beauty pageants (and a movie that needs to be released to DVD—stat!), and The Bad News Bears (1976), which reveals several unpleasant truths about little league baseball (all four of these films also contain the similar theme of what it means to be a “winner”). Unfortunately, the director’s career went on the wane in the 1980s and 1990s, with dreck like Fletch Lives (1989) and Cops and Robbersons (1994) (both starring Chevy Chase…coincidence? I think not.).

The first time I saw The Candidate, it convinced me that I could never—ever—consider a career in politics; its theme of compromised idealism still resonates with me some thirty-two years later. (This is a timeless movie, by the way; it does not seem dated at all.) It’s filmed in incredibly realistic fashion, which keeps it from slipping into political melodrama, and its satire is still as sharp and pointed as ever (particularly Redford’s monologue in the limousine: “…this country cannot house its houseless…feed its foodless…”). I think my favorite scene in the movie is when Redford’s character—who’s made one last desperate attempt to recover his idealism during a candidate’s debate—is at last embraced and endorsed by his father (Melvyn Douglas, in a crafty performance), a former state governor. “I wonder if anybody understood what I was trying to do,” McKay asks him, prompting the old man to reply: “Don’t worry, son—it won’t make any difference.”

The Candidate benefits from a superlative supporting cast, including Allen Garfield, Karen Carlson, Quinn Redeker, Michael Lerner and Kenneth Tobey, plus there are appearances from both celebrities and politicians like Hubert Humphrey, George McGovern, Howard K. Smith and Natalie Wood. (I was surprised to see that I recognized Hardball with Chris Matthews whore Mike Barnicle in a bit part as well.)

During the 1988 presidential campaign, vice-presidential candidate J. Danforth Quayle remarked to the press that he had been inspired by this movie to run for office (in fact, there were quite a few people who commented that Quayle had a Redford-like appearance, prompting the actor to jokingly introduce himself as the senator at more than one Democratic campaign rally). When I mentioned this to a friend one night as we were searching for something to rent in a video store, I also told him how the movie had caused me to think quite the opposite. He then grabbed it from the shelf and cracked: “That settles it…now I have to see this movie.”
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