Three Hour Tour

Rican Island. Two hours in a dark in theater can be life changing. The films with this kind of power tend to be the ones with the best of lists. Casablanca, Jaws, Citizen Kane, Taxi Driver, movies with one heck of a story to tell. And then there's nineteen thirty nine Code of the Secret Service. It certainly was a movie, just not a great one, at least according to the film star,

an actor named Ronald Reagan. Before he became the forty president of the United States, Ronald Reagan was an entertainer, starring in dozens of films, including western's and dramas. One series had Reagan, playing a character named Lieutenant Brass Bancoft, a former military pilot who joined the Secret Service to take down criminals. The first installment in the franchise, the nineteen thirty nine Secret Service of the Air, was a modest hit. Its success pushed the studio to green light

three more sequels over the next year. That's right, three Secret Service movies starring Ronald Reagan were released in nineteen thirty nine. The final film, Murder in the Air, came out in nineteen forty. Quantity over quality, I guess it was the second installment, though Code of the Secret Service, that was particularly special, not because it was Eddie good. Though Reagan hated it. He called it the worst picture he had ever made, and was quoted as saying, never

has an egg of such dimensions been laid. He wasn't yoking either. The film was almost universally panned by theatergoers and critics alike. Still, it made enough money to keep the series afloat for two more installments. In the film, Lieutenant Bancroft is sent after a ring of counterfeiters who have stolen engraving plates from the U. S. Treasury. Exciting on paper, but not so much in execution unless you were Jerry. Jerry was born in nineteen thirty in Montgomery, Alabama,

but grew up in Florida. When he was thirty two years old, a recruiter from the United States Secret Service paid him a visit and asked if he wanted to join. Jerry didn't think the job was any more dangerous than the one that he had been doing in Florida, Power and Light, so he said yeah. Jerry was no spring chicken. He entered the academy alongside much younger cadets, but that

didn't stop him from persevering as a new agent. In the early sixty Jerry was first assigned to protect John F. Kennedy and then Lyndon B. Johnson as they attended Eleanor Roosevelt's funeral. From there, he was almost always beside a president or vice president, though, Jerry faced the challenge of his life. He was working as part of President Reagan's

Secret Service detail the afternoon of March. The president had just given a speech at a major union organization at the Washington Hilton Hotel in d C. He was being led out of the hotel around two pm, where a sea of reporters were waiting to greet him. President Reagan had stepped up to the crowd to answer questions when a man named John Hinckley Jr. Pulled a revolver out and fired six shots rang out. Jerry jumped into action, shoving Reagan into a waiting limousine. He looked back to

see three people bleeding on the sidewalk. Hinkley had severely wounded several of the president's staff. Jerry assumed that the President had gone unharmed, but he looked back and saw blood spurting out of Reagan's mouth. Out of the six bullets that were fired, one had managed to lodge itself in Reagan's lung, which had collapsed. Jerry told the driver to head to George Washington University Medical Center, where doctors spent two hours removing the bullet and stitching the president's

back up. Reagan was fine, thanks in no small part to Jerry's quick thinking. What very few people knew at the time was that Jerry Parr almost didn't become a Secret Service agent, but he'd been inspired by a film he'd seen many times when he was younger. It was a movie about a former military pilot who joined the Secret Service to take down criminals. A movie starring Ronald Reagan, called Code of the Secret Service, the worst movie Ronald

Reagan ever made, inadvertently saved his life. Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction. Today's television landscape comprises a vast rate of programming, much of it is good or even better than what we might find at the cinema. From star studded series two movies of the week. The TV of today is a far cry from the sitcoms and camp of yesteryear. But that doesn't mean the television shows of the old days weren't special in their own right.

They entertained families every week with tales of genies and bottles, bumbling spies, and witchy wives. But one man didn't quite care for the quality of programming in the nineteen sixties. He thought it could be better. What he got instead was his name on a piece of television history, though not in the way he probably wanted. Newton Norman was

a lawyer from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Born in nineteen six. Norman fought during World War Two before getting his law degree from Northwestern He worked his way up in the private sector, getting a job at a major law firm until he joined ad LEA. Stevenson on his two presidential campaigns in the nineteen fifties. In nineteen sixty one, President John F. Kennedy appointed Norman into the Federal Communications Commission. As a commissioner, Norman took his job very seriously, lamenting the states of

television at the time. It was a topic he spoke of frequently with Kennedy's brother, Roberts, who agreed that modern TV programming of the time needed a lot of help. More importantly, though, he felt that the children would suffer if television continued its commercial decline. Norman furthered his agenda with a speech which he gave at a convention in nineteen sixty one held by a powerful lobbying group, the National Association of Broadcasters, were responsible for setting guidelines for

television networks and radio stations. Want to know why the hour from eight to nine pm is considered primetime? What we have the n A B To thank for that? Norman had just become chair of the FCC two months earlier, and he was determined to make a splash. He launched into a tirade about undesirable programming such as game shows, Westerns and sitcoms. He believed that if there was more variety,

people would naturally choose to watch better shows. Among the ones he actually liked were The Twilight Zone and certain news programs, where there was plenty that he despised. He referred to television as a whole, as a vast wasteland populated by what he called formula comedies about totally unbelievable families. Many at the n A B agreed, though by the time the speech was given, the networks had already lined up their schedules for the next season. Programming changes wouldn't

happen until at least nineteen sixty three. But one person had heard the speech who didn't agree with any of it, and he was going to have the last word. Sherwood Schwartz had gotten his start in radio, writing for programs like the Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet's and The Bob Hope Show. When he made the jump to television, he got a job writing for the popular comedy program The Red Skeleton Show. But Schwartz wasn't going to stay in

the writer's room forever. He had an idea for a show of his own, one which he started production on in November of nineteen sixty three. It started an ensemble cast who found themselves strand it on a deserted island after their tour boat was damaged in a storm. What was supposed to have been a three hour tour ended up becoming one of the most popular series on television, spanning three seasons, almost one episodes, and several film sequels

plus one catchy theme song. Gilligan's Island was a hit, and in some ways it was a hit piece on the former FCC chair himself. You see, Sherwood Schwartz didn't take too kindly to the ways in which he'd been insulted. Here he was with a formula comedy about totally unbelievable characters getting into one hairbrain scheme after another, and he

knew that people were going to love it. So as any great artist would, Schwartz fired back at his critic, Norman, in the only way he knew how he named something in the show after him, Newton. Norman Minnow would live on in the hearts and minds of viewers everywhere as the inspiration behind the name of the skipper's ill fated ship, The S. S. Minnow I hope you've enjoyed today's guided

tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.