That tribute from Ernie Townsend made me well up a bit. And the part about his private and professional life has several meanings.

Anyone remember the character Keith/ Jonah Lockwood?

Do I ever! It was, peerhaps, the best storyline ever on Edge!

October 1961 TV Radio Mirror

I don't know if this has been discussed or not, but in the movie Driving Miss Daisy the characters of Hoke and Idella are seen watching The Edge of Night in 1963. What storyline were the two watching, and who was the blonde they both marveled about in the movie?

February 1957 TV Radio Mirror

Great articles.

Edge never had strong families because of the nature of the show,but Judy Gibson could have come back widowed ,with a child and become immersed in crime and mystery. Maybe a new love interest who was a criminal.

I'm almost done with this - sorry it's taken a while to type up. Did you see the Search article I posted yesterday?

on her lap. She hadn't the least real fear - not real fear! - as she lifted the cover.

But the box was empty.

She looked at it, turning deathly white. She remembered putting the doll away, in this box, in that bureau drawer. It's happened again! she thought, dry-throated. But it can't be! I remember so distinctly. And then she began frantically to search the other bureau drawers, to empty her closet, to search in ridiculous hiding-places to find the doll that nobody else in the world would have wanted to hide. Nobody but herself, if it had happened again...

Presently she wept hysterically, her hands pressed against her temples. She flung herself on the bed and buried her head under the pillows, fighting to keep from screaming.

It was not the doll, as such. She'd bought it for Bebe, to make her quite the most special present that a little girl would receive. It did not matter that even this doll was missing. What did matter - what made her want terribly to die - was that her mind was playing tricks on her. She remembered tucking the doll lovingly in this very box, ad putting it in this very bureau drawer. Nobody else would have touched it. But, just as had happened in other matters, she was finding that she'd done something insane - she must have done it - of which she now had no memory at all. She must have taken the doll out of the box. She wanted to scream again, as she guessed the maniacal things, she might have done to it. And, if something like this had happened again, she was a failure even at staying sane!

She wept exhaustedly. And, while she wept, she longed terribly for relief from this despair. She knew that she could have relief. She had only to go to the cupboard where the bottles were. She could go there. And, in a little while, she would feel confident and strong and sure and unafraid. It would mean fresh disgrace, of course. Harry would look coldly disgusted when he found her vague-eyed and thick-tongued. But she couldn't suffer like this!

After a long and bitter struggle - which she knew in advance she would lose - she got up and began to feel her way to that infinitely treacherous solace. She wished desperately that, sometimes, she might find herself relieved of anguish without the memory of failure - without memory of giving in. Then she realized abruptly that this was one thing that she had never yet done without her own knowledge. She might crazily tear off the head of the doll named after Jack - and not remember it. She might have, because nobody else would have done it. She'd been terribly upset about Jack, then, and Harry'd asked if she'd been trying to work voodoo magic to get him killed in some automobile accident. And then he'd gone to the closet where she'd put the doll-collection carefully away, and he'd come out with the doll that resembled him, and found that there were pins in it all over. He had seemed angry. More voodoo, he asked? But he was most shocked when he searched again and came out with the doll called Marilyn - with Marilyn's coloring, and clothed like her - and pointed to a bit of blood-red ribbon stabbed into the dolls sawdust breast.

"You not only stick pins in a doll you've named for me," said Harry, in a tone of revulsion, "but you stab a doll named for my secretary, and put a red ribbon for blood to gloat over! Isn't there any limit to what you'll do?" he asked.

She'd been struck dumb, then. She didn't remember doing it. But nobody else could have done it, and she bitterly hated Marilyn. She knew that Marilyn had been more than merely Harry's secretary. She was...She was...

But she'd never taken a first fatal drink without remembering it! Never without an anguished struggle - and failure - to endure the pain of failure and unwantedness. She'd learned that she must have done other mad things, though she did not remember. But never once had she started to drink without full knowledge.

She stopped short, groping in her thoughts. Insane things like this one - hiding the doll for Bebe from herself - and tearing off the head of a doll, and sticking pins and stabbing dolls without knowingly wanting to and still less intending it. But I've never taken a first drink that I didn't know! she thought. And for me to take a first drink is most insane of all! Maybe...

She did not go to the cupboard. Triumphantly, she washed her face. She dressed for the street, her hands trembling a little. She picked up her handbag - and remembered exactly when and how she had put it down in that exact place - and went out, quite steadily. She got a cab to take her to Bebe's home. She'd explain gently to Bebe that there'd been an accident to the doll, and she was sending it back and getting another. She'd have the other doll sent from the store. And then she'd ask Bebe's mother, Hester, if she thought there might not be some significance in the fact that she always remembered a first drink, but never remembered other evenless rational things which it was eivdnet she did when she hadn't been drinking at all.

Cora pictured herself speaking to Bebe. She'd say gently: "Aunt Cora's sorry, dear. i'd have loved so much to give it to you myself and to see how you liked it. But it will come!"

She leaned back in the cab, her eyes closed. She pictured Bebe smiling up at her. But she began to have a peculiar, unreasonable hope. Maybe there's some explanation, she thought. I daren't guess at it myself. But I've only been a failure lately. Recently, though, I've been acting as if I were mesmerirzed. As if I did childish, foolish things in my sleep - which of course I wouldn't remember. Exactly as if I were mesmerized....

The cab lurched and jolted. It came to a stop. Cora opened her eyes as the cab-driver opened the door. This was Hester's house, where little Bebe lived - though now she was going away. Cora stepped out of the cab and opened her handbag to pay the cabman.

She went ashen-white. She remembered, distinctly, putting her purse down the day before. She remembered what was in it. She'd picked it p from where she'd laid it down. Nobody else had touched it.

The cab-driver said uneasily:

"What's the matter, lady?"

Cora did not answer him. She couldn't. She swayed on her feet and fumbled out change to pay for the ride. She looked about her, blindly. She did not go into Bebe's house. She walked unsteadily, looking for the only easement there could be for such despair as filled her. She looked for a bar.

But her head was quite clear. Before she found a bar, she passed a trash receptacle on the street. There were discarded newspapers half-filling it. Her head shaking, she put into it, and covered over, the leg of the doll she'd meant to give Bebe today. It had been ripped from the doll's body with a sort of maniacal fury. It had been in her handbag.

Cora hid it and went stumbling for the only relief that existed, for her.

Harry Lane leaned back in his chair and regarded Marilyn with level eyes. She smiled sarcastically as he watched her while she put the recently dictated letters on his desk.

"You wouldn't," she asked, "be looking at me like that because there's been a revival of your enormous affecton for me? If you are, it's no go."

"No," said Harry Lane evenly. "You're quite - sarcastic, lately. I am wondering if it's because of the enormous affection I understand you feel lately for someone named - ah - Duke Manson."

Marilyn tensed. Then she said harshly, "So what? You wouldn't care, would you?"

"No," said Lane coldly, "except in one way. You've been very useful to me, Marilyn. You've been valuable. I intend to reward you. But - ah - you know a great deal about my affairs. I hope you will not...confide too freely in this Manson."

"Is that a threat?" she demanded. "I'd hate to have you threaten me, Harry! I might have to take measures! Right now I'm staying on here just to get that reward you mentioned. You've promised plenty. Don't fool yourself that you won't have to keep the promises you've made me!"

"Do I ever fool myself?" asked Lane.

Marilyn laughed suddenly, without any mirth.

"I don't know anybody who fools himself more!" she told him. "Look at the record! You've made a lot of money at other people's expense. Right now you plan to make a lot more - but your scheme requires that you get rid of your wife. You've got a right little, tight little plan for it. Nobody but you would think of such a thing. You made her a drunk, expecting to get an easy divorce that way so you can marry Louise Grimesley. But she fights it too hard. So now you've started something new. Now you're persuading her she's insane."

Harry Lane cocked his ears to listen - not to her, but to the sounds outside his office. He leaned back at ease.

"Interesting," he said without expression. "You were saying...."

"Hiding things until she misses them," Marilyn rushed on, "and then putting them back where she couldn't have missed them. The business of the dolls. Pretending indignation because she tore off the head of the doll named for Jack - when she didn't. You did. Raging that she stuck pins in a doll named for you. You stuck them. Affecting vast vast disgust because she stabbed a doll representing me - did you enjoy stabbing that doll, Harry? But you've got her believing she did those things! You've bought a duplicate of the doll she got for little Bebe. I don't know how you'll use that, but I'll bet it's nasty!"

Harry Lane continued to look at her steadily.

"Maybe you'll get away with it," said Marilyn silkily. "You got away with ruining your brother and Martin Spode, for two. Maybe you'll get away with this. But you're fooling yourself."

"Very eloquent," said Harry Lane, smiling. "How?"

"Thinking you can get away with it forever," said Marilyn harshly. "I'm gambling you will, until after I'm paid off - and that had better be soon - but I want out from being involved in your affairs! You finish one scheme and start another. Every one is rotten and every one destroys somebody. You're fooling yourself when you think you can go on forever! You're mesmerized by the idea of scheming your way to more and more and more money, and everything you want. You'll never stop scheming. You'll keep it up until you're caught! You're mesmerized by your own smartness. And I think you're a fool!"

Cora found her way dizzily into her room. She felt strong and capable and confident. She knew that she was beloved and was needed, and she muttered grandly to herself, making uncertain gestures. She could take care of anything that needed taking care of! That bartender who wanted her to go home, he was ridic-ridic-hic - he was silly! And Harry was silly, looking disgusted when he let her in the front door. Ridic-

She made a sweeping gesture, dismissing Harry and all other matters which ordinarily upset her. She felt wonderfully good.

Then she saw the box on the floor. It was in the box, just where it should have been. It was not missing a leg. It was quite perfect, with silken curls, and it had dainty clothes that buttoned and unbuttoned and it would say "Ma-ma" in a squeaky voice....

Cora went cold sober on the instant. It was a horrible soberness. She remembered that the doll had vanished. That she'd gone nearly crazy because it wasn't in its box. She thought she'd destroyed it...

But it had been in the box while she thought the box empty. It had been a delusion that it was gone. she was mesmerized.

She swayed on her feet, fighting the shadows of madness. She wanted to scream....

The inside article is just a basic recap about Maeve returning to Edge in 1976, but I decided to post the cover as I liked it.

Some Edge photo memories

Edited July 1, 201114 yr by Paul Raven

Weird seeing Kay Campbell there.

I didn't notice the resemblance between Donald May and John Larkin until now. I wonder if that was intentional in casting.

I was just watching some of that story on Youtube...back when all the Madisons were still around. The scenes of drunk, pathetic Nola are tough to watch.

How old was Brian Madison supposed to be? The actor looked about the same age as Owen Madison.