New York — The first theme song for "The Today Show" was "Sentimental Journey," maybe an odd choice for a news and information program. But from its inception, "Today" broke many of television's rules and invented plenty more.
On Monday, a half-century after its dawning on Jan. 14, 1952, "Today" takes a sentimental journey in earnest, looking back at a few of its 13,000 yesterdays from 7 to 10 a.m. CST on NBC.
Chimpanzee J. Fred Muggs digs into a fifth-anniversary cake for NBC's "Today" show, upstaging anchor Dave Garroway in this 1957 file photo. Monday, a half-century after its dawning on Jan. 14, 1952, "Today" takes a sentimental journey in earnest, looking back on a few of its 13,000 yesterdays during a golden anniversary broadcast.
Along with the current team of Katie Couric, Matt Lauer, Al Roker and Ann Curry, former "Today" stars will be on hand including Hugh Downs (1962-71), Barbara Walters (1974-76), Tom Brokaw (1976-81), Jane Pauley (1976-1989) and Bryant Gumbel (1982-1997 and now co-anchoring CBS' morning rival).
Among Monday's special guests: Muhammad Ali and Tony Bennett, as well as Sigourney Weaver, daughter of 93-year-old "Today" creator Sylvester "Pat" Weaver.
But sadly absent from the scene as "Today" turns 50 is the man who, with Weaver, did the most to put the show on its prosperous path: Dave Garroway, the show's first host. (It was he, by the way, who chose "Sentimental Journey.")
Garroway, who committed suicide 20 years ago, left "Today" in 1961. But his on-air style comfortable, inquiring and just a bit quirky helped define the show up until the present day.
Handling everything
"The format of 'Today' has arguably more continuity than anything on television," says Robert Thompson, Syracuse University professor of television and popular culture. "When you wake up and turn on 'The Today Show' now, you get pretty much the same thing you got 50 years ago."
Then budgeted at $60,000 per week (which would cover roughly one day of Couric's salary under her new contract), "Today" was conceived to handle everything from hard news to fluff. It welcomed heads of state, even as it gave featured billing to a chimpanzee. (J. Fred Muggs pulled in the nation's youngsters, and with them their parents, which made the show a hit.)
But early on, "Today" distinguished itself with something beyond its adaptable formula.
"More than any other show, 'Today' really understands how people watch TV," says Thompson. "The thing is turned on, then watched modularly with interruptions, coming in and out of the room, and, during prime time, even while you're half-asleep."
TV at its most successful caters to such disregard, he says, "and 'Today' can accommodate inattentive viewing while it deals with some pretty heady journalistic issues."
Critics howled early
All well and good, with 50 years' hindsight. But TV critics weren't so impressed when "Today" premiered.
A New York Times writer dismissed it as "excessively pretentious and unreasonably confusing and complex." The New York Herald Tribune called it "an incredible, two-hour comedy of errors perpetrated as a 'new kind of television."'
Garroway, at least, wasn't hurt by disapproving reviewers. "I like to see anyone make an honest living," he quipped.
That was Garroway's gift: He was clever yet companionable. When the sight of people on a TV screen could still spark wonder from the audience, Garroway helped normalize the viewing experience. He with his "Today" sidekicks proved that just like Matt 'n' Katie, Al 'n' Ann the right folks on the screen could come to feel just like your family.
Window on the world
"Today" was the first show to treat TV as an environment rather than a destination. It aired not from a disembodied studio, but from a glassed-in storefront smack in the middle of town. Thus did "Today" demonstrate how TV can merge with the world its viewers occupy (or at least give that illusion).
The windowed studio lasted until 1958 (with a brief revival in the mid-1960s).
Then, with considerable fanfare (and a few jeers from the competition), "Today" reintroduced the concept eight years ago with its sidewalk-level, bullet-proof-glassed Studio 1A.
Runner-up in the ratings at the time, "Today" soon recaptured its No. 1 standing. (It still wears that Nielsen crown while earning NBC a kingly $350 million each year).
Meanwhile, a craze was unleashed. Around Manhattan, windowed studios have been popping up like Starbucks outlets ABC's "Good Morning America" has one, as does CBS' "The Early Show," Fox News Channel, MTV, and soon CNN.
"I think it helped a lot that it was there first," says Jeff Zucker, now NBC Entertainment president after making his mark as executive producer of "Today."
He refers not only to its windowed perspective and its fluid, wide-ranging format.
From the wake-up time slot it first staked out, there's one more way "Today" pioneered TV. "It's reassured us every morning," says Zucker, that overnight "the world didn't fall apart."
Until it does, there's no end in sight for "Today."
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