Friday, Oct. 13, 1961
Beat the Press
From West Berlin and the Soviet Union, World Troubleshooter Jack Paar returned last week to his television show, appearing for the first time since the U.S. Congress and much--but not all--of the U.S. press had waterhosed him for attracting too much attention on Berlin's East-West line (TIME. Sept. 15). Gurgling angrily, he said: "I have noticed that the Congress had the good judgment to adjourn before I got back.'' The Senate, by his description, contained a number of "loud mouths" who had obviously become aware that "they're not fooling with Liberace. I can be very rough."
Clips & Peeps. Turning to the press. Paar fingered New York Times TV Columnist Jack Gould as the man who had led the "literary lynching." Noting that Gould had criticized him for interlacing his Berlin shows with commercials, Paar summoned the TV cameras to have a close peep at a freshly assembled collection of pages from the Times, showing ads full of brassieres and what Paar called "crotch shots" of girdles and panties running side by side with reports on the world's most crucial news. Moving onward and downward, Paar tore into the "yellow journalists," attacked the New York Journal-American for its "warmongering," its sex mania, and its "editorials by Tarzan: Me good American, you good American . . ." Peeling clip after clip from a stack of papers, he cited the A.P.'s mistaken report of Dag Hammarskjold's safe arrival at N'dola to show how inaccurate the printed word can be.
Outhouses & Spare Parts. Returning to the air the following night. Paar said: "Welcome to 'Beat the Press.' I have resumed nuclear testing." But throwing only a jab or two at the domestic enemy ("Some reporters write with crayons"), he settled down quickly to a chatty description of the foreign enemy in Moscow. Astonishingly enough, Paar as a reporter proved to be absolutely superb, from his description of the eerie silence of Russian crowds to his sketch of the ambitious personality of his Intourist guide. In one felicitous phrase, he marveled at the lack of a cultural and technological middle ground between "the outhouse and outer space"; in a fine vignette, he explained why all Russian traffic comes to a halt when a rainstorm begins: motorists keep windshield wipers locked away in the trunk when not in use. since spare parts are all but unobtainable. Reporting that many Russians have a thorough knowledge of American art and literature, he related a talk he had with one man about the late Abstract Expressionist Jackson Pollock. "He died in an auto accident," Paar had told the Russian. Looking furtively from side to side, the Russian said he knew that --"but who did it to him?"
As for Berlin, Paar, typically, was not content to argue (with justice) that his activities were totally innocuous. He went on to claim that he had actually been "a calming influence" in Berlin. While his cameras were working, he pointed out, buses went through the barricades without being stopped by the Volkspolizei, weapons disappeared, and so forth. Upshot: "I think I'll leave for the Congo very soon."
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