Terrible Tom, the TV Tiger

By Janice Castro

The Post's Shales needles the networks and delights readers

He has been called brilliant, thoughtful, incisive and screamingly funny. Also, vicious, infuriating, cruel and unfair. NBC President Fred Silverman no longer returns his calls. His thrice-weekly Washington Post TV column, "On the Air," syndicated in 59 other newspapers, causes teeth-gnashing in Hollywood and heartburn in Manhattan's network headquarters. Critic Tom Shales, 33, the plump, droll, sometimes zany man at the heart of all this Sturm und Drang, puts his brown-and-tan saddle shoes up on the desk in his cramped fifth-floor office at the Post and shrugs off all the fuss: "The networks don't think they should be written about. They have the lowest form of contempt for TV critics."

Among newspaper critics, Shales is the most admired, though John O'Connor of the New York Times may have more clout because of his proximity to Broadcast Row. The Shales style is a fast-paced blend of insight, humor and an almost possessive affection for the medium. He can write lovingly, as he did in "Dingbat's Demise," his column about the death of All in the Family's Edith Bunker: "Wife, mother, grandma, neighbor ... philosopher, cook, mender of socks, bringer of beers, keeper of the faith ... Edith, Edith, Edith, how could you ever up and die on us?" He can be outraged, as he was last February when the networks aired a cluster of exploitative TV movies on torture, rape, child abuse and teen-age prostitution: "Watching prime-time TV is like being trapped in Sleaze City's tackiest honkytonk. One gets a warped and depressing view of what it means to be alive."

More often, Shales stings his victims with wit. Investigative reporters who pounce on their prey in ambush interviews are practicing "bonzo journalism," said Shales. "Naturally one is reminded of the old story about the dog chasing cars --what do they do if they catch one? Wrestle him to the ground? Drag him off to the hoosegow?" Shales ridiculed Dan Rather's histrionic foray into Afghanistan last year for 60 Minutes, dubbing him "Gunga Dan," and noting that Rather's peasant garb "made him look like an extra out of Dr. Zhivago." Some viewers still cannot tune in ABC's Good Morning America Host David Hartman without thinking of Shales' tag for him: "Mr. Potato Head." The names stick. Just ask NBC's Tom Brokaw ("Duncan the Wonderhorse") or the people at ABC News ("Rooney Tunes"). Says ABC News President Roone Arledge: "He loves to make catchy little phrases that are belittling." Adds CBS News President Bill Leonard: "He uses the English language like a sword to punch holes in whatever he feels like punching holes in."

Although Shales is often acerbic about what he sees on TV, he is not contemptuous of the medium. This distinguishes him from other tart-tongued TV critics --and redeems him hi the eyes of many industry honchos. "He wants TV to be better," says M.T.M. President Grant Tinker (Hill Street Blues, WKRP in Cincinnati). Explains Shales: "People who respect TV are the ones I respect. It's the ones who wipe their feet on it whom I probably write nasty things about."

Unlike the first generation of TV critics, a good many of whom tended to judge television by the ill-fitting standard of theater, Shales has spent a lifetime observing and absorbing the medium. He waxes nostalgic about the days when "they called specials 'spectaculars' and everyone talked about the wonderful future ahead." Thus some of his sharpest barbs are reserved for network executives who do not even try to fulfill that glowing forecast. Says he: "You can't expect Hamlet every night, but you can expect a Roots every year or so, something that really knocks your socks off."

Shales first lost his socks watching '50s favorites such as I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, Playhouse 90 and Kukla, Fran and Ollie in front of a 14-in. RCA in Elgin, Ill. (pop. then: 45,000). After graduating from American University in Washington, D.C., with a degree in journalism, he freelanced for several small publications. On his second try, he landed a general assignment slot at the Post. Shales now lives alone in a suburban ranch-style house in Virginia. He is a mildly neurotic M & M addict who, when he is not worrying about his weight (200 Ibs.), frets he will be unable to write and that no one will think he is funny. He is happiest when he is sitting in front of a screen, large or small. Says Novelist Ann Beattie (Falling in Place), a close friend from college days: "He considers a day of work going to two screenings. Then he goes out to a movie, and when he comes home he turns on a late movie."

Like the average American family, Shales watches more than 40 hours of television each week. "Some people knit and do their homework while they watch TV," he says. "I open my mail." But then he adds mildly: "After all, only about 2% of what's on is worth really watching." One can almost see a dyspeptic network executive, somewhere in Manhattan, reaching for his Maalox.

--By Janice Castro.

Reported by Elizabeth Rudulph/New York, Susan Schindehette/Washington

With reporting by Elizabeth Rudulph/New York, Susan Schindehette/Washington

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