Home Fires

Anyone under 40 might have trouble understanding how progressive the comedy-drama Room 222 (ABC, 1969-74) was on late sixties TV. Its opening titles (complete with one of TV’s loveliest musical themes) tell the story without saying a word. We see dozens of kids walking along outside an urban high school, chatting and interacting; they are an easy, natural-looking mix of faces, some white, many not. Next comes our top-billed star, an African-American man, a teacher. He smiles at the sight (who wouldn’t?) of his colleague, played by someone I’ve long considered one of TV’s most beautiful women, Denise Nicholas. What followed was a show that dealt with themes — drug addiction, homophobia — little explored on home screens then suffused with the likes of Petticoat Junction and The Brady Bunch, yet one that also made us smile as we grew to know and like the faculty and students of Walt Whitman High.

Decades later, her lead role as school counselor Liz McIntyre is probably what many people most associate with Ms. Nicholas. But her recently released book, Finding Home: A Memoir (Agate) offers a welcome opportunity to know her better. This is not your typical “and then I starred in” actor’s autobiography. Though saddled with a regrettably generic title, it’s a gracefully written, candid account of a life many of us can find relatable and sympathetic. Achieving a major breakthrough with Room 222, she strove to parlay it into film work, but her elegant beauty wasn’t cut out for the blaxploitation films of that era. (She also stayed true to her father’s stern admonition, “Do not let me walk into a movie theater and see your naked ass up on that screen.”)

As she grew older, she began to shift her interests from acting to writing, eventually publishing a critically acclaimed novel, Freshwater Road. She writes warmly of the late Carroll O’Connor, who made her his leading lady on In the Heat of the Night (NBC, CBS, 1988-95), and helped her gain multiple screenplay credits on the show. Away from the cameras, she writes frankly about three marriages that ended in divorce, and the unsolved murder of her sister.

Now in her eighties, rather than sinking into a relaxing retirement, she’s providing hands-on caregiving to her mother, more than 100 years old, who suffers from dementia. As she openly admits, she can’t afford full-time care in a place to which she could comfortably entrust a cherished family member. It’s that sort of confession that made this book resonate with me. Like most of us, Ms. Nicholas has worked hard to build a successful career and happy home life. Sometimes she’s succeeded, sometimes she hasn’t. I came away from this book feeling I’d truly gotten to know another human being better. Having long admired her work, I now add to that my respect for her humanity.

All’s Well with Wellman

Knowledgable movie buffs increasingly recognize the name of David Meuel as one of today’s premier film historians. His newest, Assembly Line Auteur: The Pre-Code Films of William Wellman (McFarland) provides further evidence of the author’s analytical skill, attention to detail, and grasp of motion picture history.

One reason I appreciate Meuel is his originality. Rather than cranking out the 367th book on Marilyn Monroe, he hones in on a specific and worthy topic, infusing it with cogent commentary. In writing about William A. Wellman (1896-1975), he could have focused on the director’s best-known work, like The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) or The High and the Mighty (1954). Instead, he takes a deep dive into the three-year period in the early 1930s when the energetic craftsman made an incredible eighteen films for Warner Bros., an aspect of Wellman’s career that Meuel argues convincingly merits more attention. 

As he shows us, Wellman, even when handed projects not of his own choosing, or pressed to meet tight deadlines, demonstrated a flair for innovation and technical skill. Meuel points out, for example, that in shooting Night Nurse (1931), the director refused to accept the status quo of early sound films, with “his fluid use of the camera,” and how, “as an early user of the mobile ‘boom’ microphone, he kept the sound recording apparatus moving right along with it.” He also boosted the careers of actors like James Cagney and Barbara Stanwyck at critical junctures.

Unlike some authors, Meuel doesn’t try to convince us that everything his subject touched turned to gold. His critique of The Purchase Price (1932) clearly calls out its flaws, for which he doesn’t entirely absolve Wellman of blame, but also notes what he did well. Throughout the text, Meuel illustrates Wellman’s knack for “fortifying dubious material” rather than giving in to it.

This is an excellent film study that has something worthwhile to say, and says it in a clear, accessible way that readers will appreciate — and that some of the author’s peers might benefit from studying. I hope Mr. Meuel is hard at work on another book. I’ll be eager to read it.

NOTE: I was furnished a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Cover Reveal!

Here’s a first look at the cover of my 12th performing arts history book from McFarland and Company, due out next spring.

It’s a comprehensive look at 34 half-hour syndicated dramas of the 1950s, including titles like Harbor Command, Man Without a Gun, and Lock-Up. Each lasted two years or less, and it’s difficult to find more than a few sentences about them in most reference sources. Yet I enjoyed learning about them, and I think you will too. The book includes interviews with actors who worked on some of these shows, and descendants of their stars. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever interviewed a nonagenarian, and our chat was lively and interesting.

I hope you’ll investigate Tune In for Action when it appears. 

New Book Coming

I’m happy to announce that I have signed to publish my 12th book on performing arts history with McFarland and Company. I’ll have more to say about the book later, but for now I can reveal that it deals with 1950s television, and should be out in 2026.

Stay tuned!

“Another Wonderful Book”

The always-interesting “Another Old Movie Blog,” hosted by Jacqueline T. Lynch, is shining a spotlight on my book, John Hodiak: The Life on Film, Stage and Radio. Am I glad she did!

This post’s title is blatantly cribbed from her review. She mentions not only Hodiak’s film career, but his work on radio, which the book covers in detail. Ms. Lynch believes he deserved a higher level of fame than he achieved prior to his early demise, and I certainly concur.

To read her review in its entirety, go here.

While you’re there, become a subscriber, and check out her fine books. You’ll be glad you did.

P.S. I’m hard at work on a new book project. Stay tuned. I hope to share some details soon.

Holiday Sale!

Just in time for seasonal gift-giving, my publisher is offering a great across-the-board discount:

If you already own all my books (a boy can dream, can’t he?), you’ll find that McFarland also has plenty of interesting titles in the fields of sports, history, and literary criticism, among others, not to mention more performing arts tomes than you can shake a stick at.

Check it out!

The Reviews Are In!

No, it’s not like one of those movie scenes where the cast and crew of a Broadway play sit nervously at Sardi’s late on opening night, waiting for the newspaper critics to publish their reviews. But I think most authors would admit there’s a little anxiety felt when your book makes its debut in the world, and you wait to hear how critics and readers react.

So, that being said, are you ready to read the first published review of John Hodiak: The Life and Career on Film, Stage and Radio? Here it is, courtesy of noted film biographer Derek Sculthorpe. 

Want a second opinion? My fellow author Stephen Michael Shearer has contributed the inaugural Amazon review, which says in part, “David C. Tucker has written an excellent biography … followed by a well-researched and valuable critical history of all (Hodiak’s) films, stage and radio appearances … As he accomplished with his fascinating books on actress Rochelle Hudson, and director S. Sylvan Simon, Tucker has given us another well-deserved and valuable biography which every film buff and scholar should read.”

While critical plaudits are greatly appreciated, I enjoy hearing from readers, too. So if you like the book, I hope you’ll let me know. Mr. Hodiak deserves the recognition, don’t you think?