During the iQSo's, in a frontier atmosphere of enterprise and sharp struggle, an American television system took shape. But even as it did so, itspioneers pushed beyond American borders and became programmers to scores of other nations. In its first decade United States television was already a world phenomenon. Since American radio had for some time had international ramifications, American images and sounds were radiatingfrom transmitter towers throughout the globe. They were called entertainment or news or education but were always more. They were a reflection of a growing United States involvement in the lives of other nationsan involvement of imperial scope. The role of broadcasters in this American expansion and in the era that produced it is the subject matter of The Image Empire, the last of three volumes comprising this study.

Jam-packed with hundreds of anecdotes and quotes from in-depth interviews with over forty television writers, this is the first comprehensive history of writing for American television. These writers tell, often in wonderfully funny tales, of their experiences working with, and often fighting with, the networks, the censors, the sponsors, the producers, and the stars in trying to create shows.

According to Ken Tucker, television is where the mass culture action really is. It's where the weasel goes pop. But for such a fluid, of-the-moment, democratic yet "cool" medium, a strangling accretion of false pieties, half-remembered history, and misplaced nostalgia has grown up around it--the prose equivalent of choking vines. In this book, Ken Tucker shares his zealous opinions about the best and worst of television, past and present Everyone has firm beliefs about what he loves and hates about TV. If TV fans think the high point of televised political wit was M*A*S*H, or that Johnny Carson was the true king of late-night, Ken Tucker does his damnedest to convince them that they've been hoodwinked, duped by pixilated mists of memory and bad TV criticism. His dazzling, provocative, and entertaining pieces include LOVES: James Garner as TV's Cary Grant, Pamela Anderson's breasts, David Brinkley--the only anchor who understood that being an anchor was a hollow ego-trip, Heather Locklear as the ultimate TV Personality, Bill O'Reilly--why the biggest asshole on TV is a great TV personality. And from his HATE lists: "The Sopranos" as The Great Saga That Sags, Miss Peggy as media star, Bob Newhart: Human Prozac, Worst Mothers on TV, Star Trek-Sci-Fi suckiness decked out as utopian idealism. His perception and passion about this much maligned medium gives the lie to passive cliché's like "vegging out in front of the boob tube." This book is the TV version of Michael Moore's Stupid White Men or Bill O'Reilly's The No-Spin Zone.

How mid-century television anthologies reflected and shaped US values and identities.

Visions of Belonging explores how beloved and still-remembered family stories—A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, I Remember Mama, Gentleman's Agreement, Death of a Salesman, Marty, and A Raisin in the Sun—entered the popular imagination and shaped collective dreams in the postwar years and into the 1950s. These stories helped define widely shared conceptions of who counted as representative Americans and who could be recognized as belonging. The book listens in as white and black authors and directors, readers and viewers reveal divergent, emotionally textured, and politically charged social visions. Their diverse perspectives provide a point of entry into an extraordinary time when the possibilities for social transformation seemed boundless. But changes were also fiercely contested, especially as the war's culture of unity receded in the resurgence of cold war anticommunism, and demands for racial equality were met with intensifying white resistance. Judith E. Smith traces the cultural trajectory of these family stories, as they circulated widely in bestselling paperbacks, hit movies, and popular drama on stage, radio, and television. Visions of Belonging provides unusually close access to a vibrant conversation among white and black Americans about the boundaries between public life and family matters and the meanings of race and ethnicity. Would the new appearance of white working class ethnic characters expand Americans'understanding of democracy? Would these stories challenge the color line? How could these stories simultaneously show that black families belonged to the larger "family" of the nation while also representing the forms of danger and discriminations that excluded them from full citizenship? In the 1940s, war-driven challenges to racial and ethnic borderlines encouraged hesitant trespass against older notions of "normal." But by the end of the 1950s, the cold war cultural atmosphere discouraged probing of racial and social inequality and ultimately turned family stories into a comforting retreat from politics. The book crosses disciplinary boundaries, suggesting a novel method for cultural history by probing the social history of literary, dramatic, and cinematic texts. Smith's innovative use of archival research sets authorial intent next to audience reception to show how both contribute to shaping the contested meanings of American belonging.