Paul Raven

New York Times Nov21 1976 Home Is Not a Soap Opera EAST BRUNSWICK SEVERAL times a week, William Mooney leaves his home here and heads for NewYork, where he becomes Paul Martin in the ABC daytime serial, “All My Children.” In the five years that he has played the part, Mooney as Martin has been in and out of love, tried matrimony three times and suffered the slings and arrows of fortune as only the soap operas can depict them. A seasoned actor whose one‐man show, “Half Horse, Half Alligator,” and “Damn Everything But The Circus” have brought him critical approval, the 40‐year‐old Mr. Mooney Is not about to bite the hand that has given him the fame he has enjoyed since playing in “All My Children.” For him, the serial is far more than a time filler for the housebound. Five years ago, when Mr. Mooney tried out for the part, he was in one of those low periods traditionally experienced by actors. “I was frantic,” he recalled in an interview in his home here. “I had just signed a contract for a new house and then hadn't worked for seven months. ‘All My Children’ was a godsend.” When he accepted the role, Mr. Moo. ney soon learned that working under . theapressure of memorizing a 42‐page script several times ‘a week—and then relearning it after it is cut the night before taping—required rigid discipline. He learned, too; that seasoned professionals, among them two of his co‐workers, Mary Fickett and Ruth Warrick, were determined to make every segment count. Soap operas, Mr. Mooney believes, are a variation of the cliffhangers used to entrance the audiences in the 1930's and 40's. “These are melodramas,” he said. “People want heroes and villains. Every time I think the plot of ‘All My Children” is getting too bizarre, somebody writes in and says, ‘If you think you have trouble, listen to what happened to me.’ And then the plot‐doesn't seem so strange any more.” But the best thing about the show for the tall, slender Mr. Mooney is that he's working at his craft every day. :The camera's eye is relentless,” he said. “There is no way an actor is going to walk through his part and last. It may not be deathless prose, but to be able to act so often is exquisite.” Mr. Mooney's love affair with acting began when he was 15 and hitch‐hiked Little Rock to see “South Pacific.” It is difficult to explain the impression that the musical made on him. As he recounted: “I remember looking at the actors and thinking, My God, if they're having half as much fun doing that as I am watching it, that's the life for me.” Determined to be an actor, Mr. Mooney attended the University. of Colorado, where he acted in college productions and branched out into radio work both at the university and the CBS.stadon in Denver. But the big time is New York, and so Mr. Mooney left the university and headed cast in a beat‐up Ford that died 20 miles outside of Ecnver. There was only one thing to do: ditch the car and hitchhike. In New York, the aspiring actor worked as an NBC page and an extra in a Shakespearean .festival. Meanwhile, he recalled, he quietly starved. “I finally decided that this is ridiculous,” Mr. Mooney said. “I wasn't getting anywhere, and my parents were from his parents’ farm in Arkansas to violently opposed to acting for all the usual reasons. Still, I called them and they bailed me out. ‘Ten years later, when I was making more money than my father, he felt better about the profession. I've always been grateful to him for helping me.” The next time Mr. Mooney took on New York, he said, he had more savvy. He knew that an actor who wanted work had to be around people who knew where the work was. Thus,The applied to the American Theater Wing and was accepted. “Tell about the wire factory,” hls wife, Valerie Goodall, a soprano, interjected. “Oh, yes, the wire factory,” Mr. Mooney replied. “Well, I worked there from midnight until 8 A.M. to support myself while I studied acting. I felt like I was spinning my wheels, but I did hear about parts now and then and worked In a catch‐as‐catch‐can way.” It was during one of these shows—a road company performance of “South Pacific,” the musical that started itsall that the Mooneys met. They were married in 1961. The following year, Mr. Mooney landed a part in “A Man for All Seasons” and his wife headed for an Austrian tour. Three months later, Mr. Mooney was offered the opportunity to go to Austria with a production,’ of “Spoon River Anthology.” The Mooneys still considered this chance to be together during their early marriage as one of those lucky breaks that happens to actors once in a lifetime. When “Spoon. River” was nearing the end of its run, Mr. Mooney began doing research on 19th‐century humor, with the idea of putting together a one‐man show. The show, “Half Horse, Half Alligator,” was successfully performed in Vienna and on a 24‐city tour of Germany that was sponsored by the State Department. It has been a Mooney standard since. In 1967, the Mooney twins, Will and Sean, were born and the family returned to .Europe, where Mrs. Mooney had accepted another engagement and me. Mooney, interested in another oneman vehicle, contemplated dramatizing the work of Albeit Camus. After a talk with the author's widow, he undertook the project. • “For‐years, I worked like a bloody Turk trying to whip Camus into a oneman show,” he said, “but I just couldn't do it. The project went to hell.” Juggling two careers on two continents began to ,pall. In addition. Mr. Mooney finally decided that he was a miserable writer and a good enough editor to know it. What the couple needed, they decided, was work in the same country. When they returned to. the States, Mrs. Mooney was deter, mined to find a job here. “You know what I did?” she said, “I went through the Yellow Pages, looking for colleges that might want voice teacher.” The hunt paid off. Mrs. Mooney was offered a position on the voice faculty at Rutgers University, where she teaches, and the couple purchased home in East Brunswick. With the responsibility of a new home staring him in the face, Bill Mooney accepted the role in “All My Children.” thinking would last a year. As residents of East Brunswick. the couple have participated in various township activities, often donating their talents to raise funds for civic or religious organizations. These include the Local Arts Council and volunteer fire companies. A realist, Mr. Mooney has few illusions about his profession. “Luck plays about 99.9 percent in this business,” he said. “It's really who you know. Some of the most talented actors are out of work either because they don't have connections or can't stand the rejections that an actor must endure to make a living. Of course, you can make some of your own luck, but you have to keep at it—not just sit around and wait. “This soap opera is the most notorious thing I've done. It has brought me recognition, but because you come into people's homes each day they think they know you and have a right to you. rctor loves recognition, of course, but Although Mr:Mooney is a serious deender of daytime serials, his real love the stage. “The older I get,” he said, “the more realize that I'm bloody good on the `If I stopped acting, I'd probably go crazy within six months’ stage and not really that good on the tube.” The Moonevs also have a home in Colorado. “The air is so pure there that you can snap it like grass,” he said. “I'll never forget the last time we landed in Newark Airport. We're killing ourselves here, and I wonder why we stay with it.” “Don't tell me,” Mr. Mooney smiled rs his wife started to speak, “I know that if I stopped acting, I'd probably go crazy within six months.” ■

New York Times Jan 31 1971 AT 9:20 P.M., last Dec. 5, Fred Stew art, a character actor who en joyed a reputation as a solid citizen of the theater world, was seated at his desk at the Actors Studio, jovially spoofing “On the Waterfront” with a fellow actor. A moment later, Mr. Stewart keeled over dead, the vic tim of a heart attack. His death at 63 was a grievous loss to the Actors Stu dio, which he had selflessly served as an actor, director, and producer with out pay since its inception. By way of earning his bread, Mr. Stewart had most recently been a regular member of the cast of the CBS‐TV soap opera, “Love of Life,” and his death was felt no less keenly by his associates there. In addi tion, it posed a serious problem with regard to the continuity of the show's story, which is normally developed some three weeks in advance of actual shooting. What was to become of the charac ter portrayed by Mr. Stewart, Alex Caldwell, a retired pharmacist who ex erted a benign, fatherly influence on the more troubled souls involved in “Love of Life”? Was he to die, too? How was his absence to be explained? Mr. Stewart had died on a Saturday evening, On the following Monday, he was scheduled to rehearse, and then tape, another segment of the show. What was to be done? A recent visit to the West 53d Street studio where “Love of Life” is taped revealed first the high esteem in which Mr. Stewart was held both as a man and as an actor. He was invariably described as a charming, courtly, warm hearted man who responded readily to the problems of other actors and con stantly reassured them or gave them advice that they valued. Physically, Mr. Stewart cut quite a debonair figure. He had a full head of white hair and a large white moustache, and was partial to houndstooth jackets, red vests, color ful scarfs, gloves, and always wore a boutonniere, which was his “thing.” As an actor, it was uniformly agreed that he gave no less to his role in “Love of Life” than he did to the more cerebral dramas in which he performed both on Broadway and at the Actors Studio. Despite the demanding schedule of a daily TV show, Mr. Stewart never once showed up unprepared, and if he felt that others had “goofed off,” he would let them but always gently. * The news of Mr. Stewart's death reached the show's producer, Freyda Rothstein, the following morning, a Sunday. Once she had recovered from her shock, she faced an immediate dilemma, which was how to proceed the next day, Monday, without Mr. Stewart, it was patently impossible to find another actor to replace him on such short notice, Should Mr. Stew art's scene be left out entirely? Should it be done at a later date with a re placement? What certainty was there that a suitable replacement would even be found? Mrs. Rothstein went over the script at once and decided that with some re writing Mr. Stewart's lines could satis factorily be spoken by another member of the show's cast, Diane Rousseau. Mrs. Rothstein accomplished the re writing in about two hours, and that evening Miss Rousseau learned her lines and substituted for Mr. Stewart on Monday. On Wednesday, Mr. Stewart was again scheduled to take part in a scene, this time involving two other per sons, The problem was resolved by writing Mr. Stewart out of the scene. Mr. Stewart had not been scheduled to make another appearance after that for almost 10 days. Now Mrs. Rothstein and her associate producer, Burt Brinck erhoff, were faced with the long‐range disposition of Mr. Stewart's part. An obvious solution was to have the charac ter, Alex Caldwell, die. This solution was rejected by the producers on a number of counts. It would, they felt, be capitalizing on Mr. Stewart's death. In a soap opera, a death provides an emotional climax to the drama un matched by any other event. To let Alex Caldwell die, and reap the dramatic benefits thereby, seemed to Mrs. Roth stein “too gruesome.” There was another important con sideration. Alex Caldwell was a charac ter much beloved by the housewives who view “Love of Life” regularly and take the make‐believe very serious ly, often, in fact, assuming that it is reality. (The show has been on TV for 19 years and is second only to one other soap opera in longevity.) For the sake of the viewers, too, it was decided to continue the role of Alex Cald well, with another actor portraying him. In the meantime, Mrs. Rothstein's phone had been ringing constantly with actors and actors' agents seeking to replace Mr. Stewart in the role. Mrs. Rothstein estimates that she auditioned at least half the available actors in Mr. Stewart's age category. She finally set tled on Charles White, an actor with im peccable credentials who also bore a physical resemblance to Mr. Stewart, especially in the matter of his white hair. What he lacked, a large white moustache, was supplied by the make up department. * On Dec. 18, 13 days after Fred Stew art's death, the part of Alex Caldwell was resumed with Mr. White in the role. It was the hunch of the producers that the transition would be made smoothly, and that the viewers would soon come to accept Mr. White as Alex Caldwell, as once they had accepted Mr. Stewart. No formal announcement was made of the change in casting—it was believed that the transition would more easily be effected if there was no announcement of the real‐life tragedy. So far, the producers seem to have been correct in their hunch. Three or four letters have been received from viewers expressing their regret over Mr. Stewart's death, which they had read about in the newspapers, and about a half‐dozen phone calls. One viewer sent a sympathy card to Joanna Roos, who plays Mrs. Caldwell on the show. Otherwise, there has been no trauma in the life of “Love of Life.” It proceeds inexorably each weekday morning toward its 20th anniversary.

New York Times Oct 11 1972 A Chic Model of the 40's Now Plays ‘One of the Nastiest Ladies That's Ever Been’ To the soap opera fans who settle down to N.B.C.TV's “The Doctors” every afternoon, there seems to be something familiar about the face of Mona Aldrich, the proper Bostonian who is trying to break up her doctor son's marriage with all the skill of a female Machiavelli. And—at least to those viewers who have attained middle age—there certainly is. Mona Aldrich is played by Meg Mundy. In the 1940's, one couldn't open a fashion magazine without seeing Miss Mundy's elegantly‐slim body doing wonders for the small ‐waisted, full ‐skirted fashions of the day. Her hair is blond now and doesn't quite set off her ivory skin as did the dark brown locks she had at 19. when John Robert Powers told her she was no beauty, “but I bet you photograph.” She did photograph and still does. Even the middle‐age lines around her generous mouth are interesting, and very proper to the character Miss Mundy describes as “one of the nastiest ladies that's ever been, but supposedly with a great deal of charm.” Meg Mundy is back to her first love, acting. It was to support herself at acting school that she wandered into the offices of the modeling agencies. “Harry Conover got me my first job,” she recalled. “I went to the photographer's studio, but shook so, be couldn't get a picture.” Six months later she was back, without the quivers, and was sent to Vogue for a “go‐see.” (The term means an interview with a fashion editor to see if the model fits the editor's need.)’ “I was lucky; Sally Kirkland (then Vogue's fashion editor) liked me and I did my first sitting on the steps of Columbia.” Then began the rounds of the top photographers of the times. The late John Rawlings was fatherly and suggested she do something about her “dreadful” hair—“I had very long hair then, when all the kids were wearing theirs short.” Horst (Horst P. Horst), who was later to do many of her best fashion photographs, turned her down the first time—‐'you're too ugly.” More Artifices Now And no wonder. “I walked around in any old thing and flat shoes. I never had any exposure to expensive clothes. My parents had been musicians. My mother couldn't have cared less about clothes.” But soon the duckling became a proper swan, in high heels, and a hat and gloves. In the black Cavanagh hat box—which was the trademark that distinguished the fashion models from their less glamorous sisters around town—she carried a bra and a waist‐cincher, which were de rigueur for the Dior New Look fashions that had swept the world. Like the other models of the period, she looked considerably older than she was. “It was the thing to look like a chic, elegant woman, mysterious and unreachable. Fashion was a couture rather than a boutique world then. Even though we were girls in our teens and twenties, we looked like grown women.” Now the pendulum has swung full way. Today's models look like perpetual teen‐agers, coltish and “natural.” Actually, Miss Mundy points out, they have more artifices to use: false lashes, wigs and complicated makeups to shade their faces. And they can move. ‘Before the strobe light became a common photographic technique, you had to hold a pose perfectly still. And they were always shooting you with your mouth open.” Still, Miss Mundy declares that current models are more beautiful. By today's standards, she and the other popular models of her time—Marilynn Ambrose, Muriel Maxwell and Betty McLaughlin—might be considered interesting looking, rather than raving beauties. However, their very standoffishness put them on pedestals. Women who recognized them in the street felt the same sort of thrill they might when encountering a movie star. “It was fabulous that people recognized you.” They still do—but as the dreadful television mother of David O'Brien, one of the “Doctors.” Miss Mundy recalls with a laugh that when her 19‐year‐old son, Sotos Yannopoulus, worked as a bagger in a Connecticut supermarket last summer, a shopper asked him, “Is that awful woman really your mother?” “I'm glad I modeled,” Miss Mundy continued. “The money, $35 to $40 an hour, was good for the times. And the clothes were wonderful. It was truly an esthetic experience to put on a Mainbocher or a Norell or a Galanos.” Child of the Stage But she was a child of the stage and the pull was there. Born in London some 50 years ago, the daughter of a singer and a father who was first cellist at Covent Garden, Margaret Mundy came to New York at the age of 8, (She still retains a trace of British accent.) She had musical ‘training —piano and voice—'but I had no real talent for it.” She apparently had enough voice to have sung with such diverse bodies as the New York Philharmonic and Kay Thompson's Rhythm Singers, but preferred acting. Her big chance came in 1948, when she appeared in Sartre's “The Respectful Prostitute” and got excellent reviews. A year later, she starred with Ralph Bellamy in “Detective Story.” Later, when the acting roles dwindled off, she became a fashion editor and a stylist for a fabric house. For a while, she owned a boutique in Connecticut, along with another soap opera actress, Lori March of “The Secret Storm.” These days, in between tapings for “The Doctors,” she lives in an early 1800's white clapboard house in Bridgewater, Conn., with her fourth husband, Angus Thurrott, who is in real estate. She enjoys playing the meddling mother‐in‐law and hopes the show's writers will keep her alive. “But I've already had two heart attacks.. A third one might kill me.”

New York Times Jan 18 1974 ‘SECRET STORM’ STILLED BY C.B.S. “The Secret Storm,” the daytime soap opera, will end a 20‐year run on the Columbia Broadcasting System's television network Feb. 8, having been canceled for a new celebrity game show, “Tattletales.” However, the five‐a‐weekl drama serial will continue on television with original episodes under an unusual syndication arrangement with American Home Products, a sponsor whose product line includes Anacin, Gulden's Mustard, Chef Boy‐ar‐dee Foods and Preparation H. Viewers in New York will scarcely notice the cancellation, since the syndicated version has been accepted by the C.B.S. station, WCBS‐TV, Channel 2. “Secret Storm” will complete its network run in the 4 P.M. time period on a Friday, and will resume on the station the following Monday, Feb. 11, at 1 P.M., with the syndicated episodes. American Home Products is placing the soap opera on close to 140 stations across the country under an exchange plan known in the broadcast trade as “barter.” In such an arrangement, the station receives the program without charge in exchange for carrying a negotiated number of the sponSor's commercials. The sponsor pays for the production and distribution of the show but not for the advertising time on the stations. “Secret Storm” stars Maria Adams, Keith Charles, Lori March and Jade Rowland. The program replacing it on C.B.S. will form a 90‐minute afternoon game‐show block, with “The Price Is Right” and “Match Game” preceding it. All three are produced bY Goodson‐Todman Productions.

Soul Survivors was Marland's proposed soap. I recall it was going to be more 'working class'.Maybe he used some of the storylines on ATWT?

I think The Nanny deliberately got those Y&R references wrong as a sort of in joke.

I know JLB had a very difficult pregnancy and was in a wheel chair off set. I think that this was the time Victoria Thompson (and others? ) subbed for her. Another role quickly recast was that of April. Janet Wood was replaced by Cynthia Eilbacher who had previously played Jodie, the teen runaway.

I just remembered the original Derek story where Caleb Stoddard and another actor played Derek and then the whole thing was dropped for a while until Joe LaDue came on. Does anyone remember how this played out on screen.?

Up until that point, they had pretty much stuck with the original actors - nobody was fired. Not sure what happened with John Considine as Phillip and I think Brian Kerwin was dropped as Greg#2. Anyone else Ive forgotten?

AA?

Great find! Thanks for posting. Victoria Racimo was Tia, Kurt Van Allen's islander wife.

The Abbott house set did not appear until 82. There may have been something shown when BH was John but it seemed most Jack/Jill/John scenes occurred at the office or restaurants etc Terry Lester mentioned in an interview that when he walked onto the Abbott set for the first time, he realised that a whole family and future had been set up. I'm pretty sure Mamie came on around the time when Traci and Ashley appeared. Brett Halseys GH episodes were on YouTube (still might be) and he is in plenty of movies and TV shows so it is easy to imagine him as John. Deborah nailed Jill at that time. She never came of as a total villianess, more insecure and desperate.

French Fans Sept 82 summary has Chris and Jennifer leaving GC to join Snapper in London after begging to get out of her Jabot contract. In the months preceding Greg had been showing interest in Chris but that was dropped. SOD summaries got skimpier as time went on. Funnily enough, around this time Jack used a woman named Gloria to try and break up John and Jill.

Deborah's contract was up and she got Dynasty, so I think Brenda was approached to return.

Thank you for these. So great to see this era represented. Really, with a little polishing those stories could play today. Deborah Adair as Jill! Lorie Brooks! So much to savour.Looking forward to others comments/reactions.

Thanks Slick. Charles Weldon was a character name on Edge of Night also. How often does that happen? I can think of John Randolph on AW and LOL and Laura Spencer on DOOL and GH.

In the Doug and Julie wedding article it says '500 fans, including former soap opera diva Jean Noble...' Not sure who this is?

Wasnt Danson playing Mitch Pierson?

Re Love of Life; Baby April Joy was played by Orla Gaynor. I'm pretty sure this was in SOD at the time. I just recall that name for some reason.

Another list from the same period from Daytime TV.Soaps only 1. DOOL 10.6/35 2. DRS 10.3/ 36 3. AW 9.8/ 31 4. ATWT 9.6/ 32 5. GH 9.5/30 6. AMC 9.0/ 32 7. OLTL 8.5/ 26 8. SFT 8.1/31 9. TGL 7.8/26 10.EON 7.1/25 SO NBC had the top 3 shows, CBS had 4 of the top 10 and ABC 3. NBC had 2.00 - 3.30 sewn up with soaps but could never get a successful 3.30 soap, trying with Bright Promise, Return to Peyton Place and How to Survive a Marriage. They finally solved the problem by expanding AW to 60 min.

Nancy Pinkerton (Vivica Strand) doesn't come on till 79 and the current episodes are from 1974.

Interesting point. I guess we have to acknowledge that many actors view their characters and stories very differently than viewers. What might be challenging and interesting for them to play may not please many fans. A lot of actors don't watch their own show and have no idea of how things come across onscreen and as part of the whole picture. eg On Y&R Jess Walton loves working with Tristan Rogers and that's great but the Jill/Colin pairing and stories are awful

Tom married Carol in 1972 and Natalie in 1975.

Dallas hit #1 for the first time in Feb 1980 with a 31.1 rating 49 share.

Some behind the scenes photos of The Doctors sets