Present at the Conception

Milton Berle was television’s first star, and his “Texaco Star Theater,” which premiered on NBC in the fall of 1948, was the first show to become popular with the American viewing public. Although Berle has appeared in vaudeville, on radio, in film and in nightclubs in a show business career that spans 85 of his almost 90 years, he will probably always be known as “Mr. Television.”

Question: When did you first get into television?

Answer: Everybody thinks I started on television in 1948. But it was 1929. I was in vaudeville, headlining the Palace Theater in Chicago. A man by the name of Frank Sanabria came backstage. He said to my mother, “I’d like to put him on television.” We said, “What’s that?” He had a place, maybe a store, in the back. He had one camera with the worst lights I ever saw. Strobe lights.

Q: Did this go out on the air?

A: No. It was a private thing, experimental. I still have the clip in my archives--it appears in the A&E; “Biography” of me.

Q: How did you get the nickname “Mr. Television”?

A: That moniker was given to me by Walter Winchell. He called me “Mr. Television.” Meaning “the man who started it all.” I’m glad he didn’t call me “Miss Television.”

Q: What’s the origin of “Texaco Star Theater”?

A: In 1947-48, I was on the radio for Texaco. Then Texaco or its ad agency came to me and said they would like to go on television and asked if I had an idea for a format. I said, “The only idea I have is what I’ve been doing all these years--vaudeville.” They said, “Well, let’s try it.”

Q: You were not only the star of the show but had production responsibilities as well. How difficult was it to reassure performers who were new to the medium?

A: In those days, directors would say, “Move here, make your second move and pick up camera two.” But I told performers, “Go out in front of the curtain and do your act. Don’t worry about the camera. The camera will pick you up. I want you to do what you do naturally instead of looking for marks.”

Q: What kind of ratings did you get?

A: The audience share was 83.9. But, of course, at that time, there were only 83 sets.

Q: How difficult was it to do live television?

A: We were doing a show once, I think “Texaco,” and I was right in the middle of my opening monologue. All of a sudden, on the punch line, I hear a loud noise backstage. An iron bar had fallen. It was live. I turned around, then turned back to the audience and said, “CBS just dropped another show.”

Q: I’m sure that’s not the only time things went wrong when you were on live.

A: I booked Pallenberg’s Bears from the Barnum & Bailey Circus. The trainer didn’t give them time to go to the bathroom before the show, and during their act, the bears let loose on stage. The next act did East Indian dances with bare feet. Rings on their fingers and bells on their toes. Before I introduced them, I got a broom and swept up the stage but I didn’t get all of it. The last trick involved the dancers sliding from the back of the stage to the front. When they finished, I said, “Well, that cleans that up.” We were in Studio 6B at 30 Rockefeller Center in Radio City. I’m deviating . . . but that’s because I’m a deviant.

Q: I knew there was a good explanation.

A: There’ll be no ad-libbing from you!

Q: OK. Is it true the popularity of “Texaco Star Theater” could be gauged by the water levels in Brooklyn?

A: They measured the water level in Brooklyn between 8 and 9 on Tuesday night, and it was way down, because the people wouldn’t leave their sets during the show--they would only go to the bathroom during the commercial. When the commercial ended, the water level returned to normal.

Q: To what extent was the show a Berle family affair?

A: When I opened every show, there was always a big sight laugh for my costume, which was designed by my sister Rosalind. My mother was a plant--she sat in the audience and overlapped the audience with a louder laugh. I would say to her, “Don’t laugh, lady--you may have children of your own.”

Q: During 1947 and 1948, you hosted both the television and radio programs for “Texaco Star Theater.” How did you cope with the pressure of doing both simultaneously?

A: You tell me. It was pressure. But I didn’t realize it was pressure. I was so involved, so in love with my business, that I didn’t notice the pressure.

Q: You’ve done a number of dramatic roles on TV. Of which are you the proudest?

A: “Doyle Against the House” on “Dick Powell Theater” [in 1961]. It was produced by Aaron Spelling and directed by Ralph Nelson. I played a dealer who got caught cheating. Those were my own hands on screen, by the way. My [character’s] child was very sick. I was a widower, and needed money for her operation.

Q: Even though that was filmed, rather than live, you made a classic goof on that, didn’t you?

A: We rehearsed for two weeks, then did several run-throughs. The opening shot was me shuffling the cards to start the deal. Dealers are not supposed to speak, but when I put the cards in front of this guy, out of force of habit, I said, “Cut,” as in “Cut the cards.” After 10 to 12 minutes, Ralph Nelson said, “Print that!” The sound man said, “Print what?” When I had said “Cut,” the sound man thought “Cut the scene” and hadn’t recorded sound. It was a complicated shot, and it took four days to get it right again.