Writing the Networks in the 1960s

During the 1960s, tens of thousands of letters poured into to the mail rooms of the television networks. Some complained about commercials or violence or controversial content. Others asked for medical advice or suggested ways to improve a certain program. Sometimes the letters didn’t make much sense at all. But each and every one was read and given a reply. The networks took audience research seriously, using it to gauge reaction to their programs. Learn who was reading viewer letters during the 1960s and how many were received.

From the very beginning, there were certain television viewers who would put pen to paper to convey their reactions to the networks, just as they had with radio. Fed up with violent content? Write a letter. Necklines too low? Write a letter. Too many commercials? Write a letter. Commercials too long? Write a letter. Want to praise a certain program rather than respond negatively? Write a longer letters. Letters weren’t the only way to contact the networks, of course, and some viewers would phone or perhaps send a telegram. But the letter was for most the medium of choice.

Initially, however, there was apparently some reluctance on the part of viewers to actually respond to the programs they watched. According to a May 22nd, 1949 article in The New York Times, “one of the characteristics of the television audience which is puzzling the television broadcasters is an apparent lack of reaction to programs as expressed in volume of mail” [1]. Compared to radio listeners, television viewers weren’t a very communicative bunch. Interestingly, the few letters the networks did receive revealed that reactions varied widely by geography.

For example, The New York Times revealed that one network, broadcasting solely on the East coast, found viewers had no problem with “a scene including the drinking of a cocktail” but when such scenes were shown in the Midwest, viewers objected [2]. Another network, the paper wrote, worried that including the “sounds of a woman in labor” would be problematic and was surprised when it received no letters whatsoever [3].

By the 1950s, as television expanded across the country, became more and more popular and viewers grew attached to their favorite programs, the volume of letters received by the networks increased. While controversial comments and popular actors and actresses earned their fair share of mail, it was often the cancellation of programs — or just the threat of cancellation — that brought deluges of letters to network mail rooms. Read Save Our Show Campaigns Prior to Star Trek to learn how fans tried to influence the fate of individual shows by writing letters.

Why focus on the 1960s? Certainly, there were countless letters written before and after. One could argue that the decade was the purest in terms of audience reaction to what it saw on television. The 1950s saw the networks solidify, television grow exponentially and viewers grow accustomed to watching and reacting. The 1970s, on the other hand, saw large scale campaigns denouncing unsavory content. But during the 1960s, viewers reacted strongly and individually.

The one thing all contemporary articles about letters written to the television networks made clear was the fact that, yes, each and every piece of mail was read (with one exception). Most letters were given some form of reply, although it might have been a form letter mailed to save time. Only clearly organized campaigns, received in huge batches, weren’t always read due to the fact that they weren’t all that helpful. But just who was reading all those letters during the 1960s?

Here’s a breakdown by network:

ABC: Ellen MacKinnon joined the network in 1942 and by 1961 was the network’s supervisor of audience information [4]. The New York Times reported in 1965 that she had two assistants, making the ABC operation the smallest of the networks [5].

CBS: Mail received by CBS, after being handled by a five-person “audience mail department,” was forwarded to a specific division [6]. Leonard Spinrad headed the department; its coordinators were Odessa Leggat and Lucille Chiapponi [7].

NBC: Kathryn Cole joined the network in 1942 and became manager of audience information in 1953 [8]. She had eight assistants in 1965, two of which worked solely with letters sent to The Today Show [9].

Letters addressed to individual actors, actresses, performers or personalities were sent on to their intended recipients without being read by those listed above. That would be rude. According to Cole, “the important part of the job is evaluating viewer reaction and getting that reaction to the right people—in programming and standards and practices, for example. It helps them keep their fingers on the viewers’ pulses” [10]. Letters to each program are collected and separated into three categories: Approval, Criticism and Inquiry, with additional “critical” and “industry” breakdowns.

An article published in the September 1961 issue of Television Magazine, discussing the mail sent to networks, noted that the majority of letters were about programming and that very few — perhaps less than five percent — had to do with the tough issues of violence on television, the impact of television on children or the role of pay television. Each of the networks kept an “oddball” folder, or box, into which the strangest letters were filed [11].

For example, ABC’s Ellen MacKinnon was once sent 12 sheets of paper with writing on both sides. It “appeared to be a serious, well-thought-out dissertation” that, for reasons unknown, had been cut in half; ABC only got part of the treatise [12]. Catherine Cole at NBC received this unusual correspondence:

Dear NBC: I have a device attached to my spine or some part of my body which enabled other people to see and hear what I see and hear. As a result of this device, I can contact a large number of people at the same time. In regards to this, I would like to ask the following questions: Does your company know about me? Am I being used by your company in any way? [13]

In response to letters like these, ABC’s MacKinnon developed a theory involving the phases of the moon. she told John P. Shanley of The New York Times that the crank letters, or “off the beam correspondence,” sent to the network “seems to reach a high point in the two or three days preceding and following the appearance of a full moon. It’s happened so often I’m sure there’s something to it” [14]. All the crank letters she receives are promptly placed in a “full-of-the-moon” folder.

NBC was sent this letter by a worried fan of Another World:

Dear NBC: We are leaving tomorrow for Florida on our vacation. As I arrange my life around ‘Another World,’ will you send a resume of this and the other afternoon serials for the next three weeks? Tomorrow I will miss the outcome of Penny’s operation and I cannot sleep. Postage enclosed. [15]

Whether or not NBC responded with the requested information is a mystery. ABC received this letter from two men, ages 75 and 78, respectively:

We love Lawrence Welk, but tell him to play more boogie-woogie, bop, rock ‘n’ roll, black bottom and Charleston. We love those spry dances. You also could improve your shows by having more swearing, bikini bathing suits and pretty young girls. [16]

Doctors Ben Casey and Kildare were often asked for medical advice. The guns carried by the Cartwrights on Bonanza were coveted by some writers, as was Jane Powell’s phone number [17]. One avid viewer sent a poem about their favorite show: “Roses are red, tires are black, if you take Gunslinger off the air, I’ll stab you in the back” [18]. Another pleaded for more baby girls, insisting that women on television always had boys [19]. A boy living in Ghana requested photographs of current television stars and offered to send a monkey skin in return [20].

Not all letters included requests. In April of 1961, MacKinnon told The New York Times that “the profane and obscene mail keeps diminishing all the time. And the critical mail is more intelligent and thoughtful than it used to be. Most of those who write sign their names and addresses” [21]. And in December of 1967, it was suggested that the intelligence of mail was increasing because viewers had woken up to the fact that the shows they loved were being cancelled because nobody wrote about them [22].

The number of letters written to the networks ebbed and flowed with the television season, with the most mail coming in during the start of each new season and the fewest letters being received during the long summer months [23]. The largest number of letters and phone calls ever received (as of December 1967) by NBC was 198,000 during 1954 [24]. That compared to 175,000 during 1960 (145,000 letters and 30,000 or so phone calls) and 187,000 during 1967 [25, 26].

In 1961, ABC received 750 letters and several hundred phone calls each week [27]. Of the 12,581 phone calls the network received from May of 1960 to May of 1961, only 642 were complaints and just 290 were “serious enough to bring to someone’s attention” [28]. During 1960, NBC alone was sent some 145,000 letters and roughly 30,000 phone calls [29]. In 1965 the network was getting between 450 and 700 letters per day in 1965 [30].

A large number of letters or phone calls didn’t automatically mean a network would take notice. For example, the 899 phone calls to WABC-TV in New York City complaining about a broadcast of The Raven apparently all came from students attending the same Catholic school and thus were believed to be the work of one of their teachers and not reflective of the average viewer [31]. Likewise, the 10,000,000 postcards distributed by the Methodist church to more than 39,000 churches and sent to all the networks (likely not all of them were filled out and mailed) weren’t “studied” [32].

According to Spinrad, “we might treat five letters from the Bar Association more seriously than a hundred letters from fans involving the death of a certain show” [20]. In short, large numbers of of letters obviously from the same location (perhaps even bearing the same postmark) aren’t as important as a handful of letters from various parts of the country focusing on the same subject.

Although a phone call would be faster, writing a letter was perhaps the most effective way to contact a television network during the 1960s. A letter was tangible and at the very least proving that a viewer had enough invested in a program to take the time and work to write. Today, with e-mail and online petitions and “save our show” campaigns with elaborate websites, contacting a network is simpler than ever.

Do people still write to the networks asking about their favorite shows or do they just search the Internet for the answer? Are there still “oddball” folders filled with unusual and unexplainable letters?

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