Cavett Survives the Dread Clayhead Menace

NEW YORK – ABC, under pressure, has come to terms with Dick Cavett. The show will continue to the end of the year. Thereafter Cavett will do it one week a month, Jack Paar will do one week, and the other two weeks will be filled with movies, plays or whatever else the network thinks will attract viewers.

Cavett left for vacation without commenting on the ABC decision, but in an interview with Rolling Stone the day before the August 4th announcement, he said, “I would not be unhappy if it turned out I was not to do it five nights a week, four weeks a month. I’ve never thought that was a good idea.”

The compromise represented a rare, if abridged, triumph for Cavett’s viewers. Even in the world of network TV – a world dominated by an endless struggle for the attention of millions of mythical, beer-swilling clayheads – ABC has earned a reputation for sleaze. Cavett failed by the standards of this world because his show commanded a mere 3.5 million or so viewers. Mothball movies and Johnny Carson, with his friends from the Bob Hope-Spiro Agnew axis, both far out-rated Cavett.

But when ABC threatened to cancel the show unless Cavett drew more clayheads, viewers replied in force. Thirty thousand letters rolled in. SAVE THE CAVETT SHOW bumper stickers began to turn up around the country. Ralph Nader suggested a public hearing. Jack Paar appeared on the show and read off telephone numbers for A.C. Neilsen rating service offices in New York, Chicago and Palo Alto. The result was jammed switchboards. Neilsen executives issued a starchy statement to the effect that they were concerned only with the 1200 families who suffer Neilsen monitor machines to repose in their sets; all these other people could shove it. But ABC could tell bad publicity when they saw it coming.

The new schedule may prove to be a boon for Cavett. Seven and a half hours a week is a lot for many people just to be civil, much less witty and entertaining, and after two and a half years of such a schedule, Cavett was showing signs of stampeding boredom. One of his most frequent sight gags for studio audiences lately has been to slap his cheeks just before the camera comes on, as if to wake himself up.

“It’s inevitable after this many shows,” Cavett said. “Maybe somebody’s interested in all those people, but I’m not. There are times when my eyes have glazed over and I think, ‘Oh my God, I’m not going to be able to speak when it comes my turn. I don’t know what they’re talking about.'” He has stopped reading many of his guests’ books or seeing their movies because they are so often bad and he is afraid of becoming too caustic on the air.

As a result, Cavett’s down moments have gotten pretty far down. On a show which featured highlights from the old Candid Camera series, Cavett glanced at one of the index cards his staff prepares for him and asked Alan Funt, “How many miles of film have you shot? Do you know?”

“No,” answered Funt.

Puerto Rican gang leaders from the South Bronx told Cavett they planned block parties to raise money to clean up the streets; Cavett replied dreamily that personally, he didn’t much like parties.

And there was the recent interview with Mick Jagger. Cavett hung around the dressing rooms at Madison Square Garden looking ill at ease, neither journalist nor star, “Like the illegitimate son of the Eyewitness News team,” as he put it later. Jagger appeared:

Cavett: “Doesn’t this upset you, all these people?”

Jagger: “Yeah, it’s pretty crowded for a morning show. . . .”

“How did you sleep after opening night last night?”

“Not very well.”

“Didn’t sleep?”

“Didn’t sleep at all. I just slept a couple of hours.”

“Do you pop up in the morning after opening night and grab the papers, and all that stuff?”

“No.”

“Just thought I’d check that. Say, I don’t know if I was supposed to see this or not, but there was a plate of something going around; people offering me little pills.”

“Vitamins and salt.”

“That’s what they told me they were, but you know. . . .”

“A, B, C and salt. Drink the salt with plenty of water.”

“Do you do any kind of exercises every day?”

“Yeah. Last night I forgot. I did a warmup exercise and pulled a muscle. That’s the way it goes.”

“Did you ever hurt yourself on stage?”

“No.”

“. . . . Do you read poetry?”

“No. Do you?”

“You were registered at a hotel under the name of an 18th century poet, and I just wondered if. . . .”

“I haven’t read any for years. [Clutching at a piece of paper behind Cavett] I didn’t realize you had notes.”

“Notes?”

“I never thought you had notes. I thought it was just straight off.”

“What notes?”

[Muttering] “America?”

“I do it. It’s always. . . .”