Tweet Berle Hits Bottom?

One of the most enduring celebrity crash-and-burn stories is about Milton Berle. After thirty years of knocking around in vaudeville, nightclubs and radio, he became a smash hit in early television with Texaco Star Theater, only to fall victim to changing tastes later in the 'Fifties. The punchline is that the former superstar was reduced to hosting something called Jackpot Bowling at the end of the decade. Ouch.

At least five of those episodes survive, and I've gotten to see them (on horrendous VHS-to DVD transfers from dupe kinescopes). It turns out that the show isn't half-bad. It's a bizarre hybrid of stand-up comedy and pro bowling, but it's fast-paced and pretty entertaining.

Berle's stint on the show was actually an attempt to resuscitate what had been a straightforward bowling-for-dollars show, one that had drifted through a succession of ineffective hosts during its 18-month history. When it returned in September 1960, it had moved from New Jersey to Hollywood and there was a new focus on entertainment. Each episode opens upon a vista of bowling lanes, the pins standing invitingly in the distance. Out bounds Milton Berle, wearing a dark suit and tie, clutching a microphone, happily acknowledging the applause of a surprisingly large audience.

He delivers a standard Bob Hope-style monologue, and after a commercial for Phillies cigars, we get a bowling match between two pro bowlers. They play nine frames. The only thing that counts is strikes: whoever bowls the most strikes wins $1000, and moves on to a championship round against last week's winner for a jackpot of $25,000 or more. A young Chick Hearn takes the microphone during the bowling segments. These go by fast, very fast; the bowlers don't get a chance to sit down between throws.

But between those two games, Berle is back with a celebrity guest. They trade scripted banter, and then the celebrity rolls one ball for charity: $500 plus fifty bucks for each pin that gets knocked down. The celebrities aren't necessarily top-drawer, but they're more interesting than you might expect: Bobby Darin, Jack Dempsey, Mort Sahl, The Crosby Boys. Since it's for charity, this is played straight, except for the time the Ritz Brothers are the guests. Harry Ritz throws the ball without letting go of it until after he's hurled himself half-way down the alley; the ball rolls slowly the rest of the way toward the pins, and surprisingly enough, knocks them all down (the only celebrity strike of the surviving episodes). The best of these celebrity segments is one with a very sultry Diana Dors, who busts Berle's chops mercilessly before knocking down a very respectable nine pins for the City of Hope.

The Jackpot of the show's title wasn't just hyperbole. The show really did give away serious money, and with the legendary quiz-show scandals having already snuffed out The $64,000 Question and The $64,000 Challenge, this was probably the last show of the era giving away big money. The only trouble was: you had to be a pro bowler, and you had to roll six consecutive strikes in the championship round. But it could happen. A Detroit bowler named Therm Gibson picks up a $75,000 prize in one of the surviving episodes.

The show was basically "live on tape," having been pre-recorded earlier the same evening. That doesn't mean it's a slick production: our host stumbles over the bowlers' names and even the sponsor's name, and when it comes time to hand a bowler a check for his winnings, Berle never knows which jacket pocket it's tucked into. But the rough edges make the show more compelling than it might otherwise be, and as usual Berle ad-libs when the opportunity arises. The comedy bits are clearly scripted, and they're quite good, but oddly enough none of the episodes carry a writer's credit.

The show's location, the Hollywood Legion Lanes, wasn't your typical suburban bowling alley. It was a 44-lane colossus built literally atop the former Hollywood Legion Stadium, the film colony's boxing mecca of the 1920s-1940s, which had been filled in with concrete in 1959 for the new bowling alley. During each episode, the camera pans around to survey a very large and surprisingly well-dressed audience: all the men wear suits and ties. In one episode, a lady sits front and center wearing a huge mink stole.

The surviving shows all date from December 1960-January 1961. Jackpot Bowling never really did light a fire in NBC's program schedule, and it left the air forever the following March. The Legion Lanes were torn down in 1985 and a Bally Total Fitness now stands at the site (1628 N. El Centro, Los Angeles CA).

Yes, this was a relatively low point in the career of Milton Berle (as well as a sober lesson about what can happen if you sign a 30-year contract with NBC). But he did pretty well with it, earning a lot of good laughs and exuding cheerful enthusiasm. If through some miracle his season of Jackpot Bowling were to appear on DVD, restored and with extras, I'd buy it. And watch it. And enjoy it.

Sounds like the bowling equivilent of Home Run Derby.

I own two of these episodes on DVD. Say what you like, Berle was a pro. He actually makes you believe he likes what he's doing, though it must have been painful to a man for whom people broke Tuesday-night dates ten years earlier. As bowling shows go, it's not bad, but definitely an embarrassment for Uncle Miltie. Still, you can't beat the Ritz Brothers doing a lot with a little in their episode (evidently NOTHING embarrassed these guys!)

Coincidentally, last night I watched an episode of KRAFT SUSPENSE THEATER that I had recorded recently. It starred Berle and Carol Lawrence. Fine dramatic program. But there was a scene (1964 episode) where Berle was crossing a small town street and behind him was a gas station with a huge sign - RAY AND IRWIN'S. I nearly fell over.

Coincidentally, last night I watched an episode of KRAFT SUSPENSE THEATER that I had recorded recently. It starred Berle and Carol Lawrence. Fine dramatic program. But there was a scene (1964 episode) where Berle was crossing a small town street and behind him was a gas station with a huge sign - RAY AND IRWIN'S. I nearly fell over.

Given the time frame, it's possible the sign was salvaged for reuse. I can't imagine anyone deliberately recreating it as an in-joke, at least in 1964.

Mike S.

Milton Berle promoted Jackpot Bowling heavily when he appeared as a mystery guest on the Sept. 11th, 1960 episode of What's My Line, even signing in as 'Milton Bowl'. Arlene Francis makes a joke about the show's title, although Berle (inevitably) makes a spirited comeback.

The segment can currently be seen at YouTube:

I think the concept of Milton Berle hosting something as low-rent as the JACKPOT BOWLING show sounds a lot worse than it actually was. It sounds like some Ernie Kovacs skit about how mindless TV can get. Actually, I thought Miltie fared better than expected, and the topical gags/guest stars/bowling bit moved along at an amusing pace, if you're not too demanding. I've seen this show on lists of "all-time worst TV shows, but that's only if you ignore the vile stuff spewed out every night in A.D. 2012. I think Uncle Militie hit bottom with his jaw-droppingly awful 1966 "comeback" series. Poor pacing, infantile writing, the phoniest bloopers this side of HEE HAW, and a generally half-hearted attempt at reviving the funny low-to-no-brow gooniness of 1948. Another low point for Berle were the various times through the years when he was given straight dramatic roles, full of pathos and tears. Remember where he was a blind survivor of a remote plane wreck?

Milton Berle had a long career in movies
and television.

From bit roles in the 1910's to Two Heads Are Better
Than One in 2000 (tv movie) he has relatively few lapses.

Milton Berle belonged to that rare group of comedians
who transcend wherever they appear. Some-
times their material is sub par, but they always get another
chance.



Milton Berle (to group at scene of car crash): "Hey, did you see it?
The way he went sailing right out there! He just went sailing right out there".