Season Three, Episode 68
Original Air Date: September 29, 1961
Cast:Bill Stockton: Larry Gates
Grace Stockton: Peggy Stewart
Paul Stockton: Michael Burns
Jerry Harlowe: Jack Albertson
Martha Harlowe: Jo Helton
Frank Henderson: Sandy Kenyon
Mrs. Henderson: Mary Gregory
Marty Weiss: Joseph Bernard
Mrs. Weiss: Moria Turner
Man: John McLiam
Writer: Rod Serling (original teleplay)
Director: Lamont Johnson
Producer: Buck Houghton
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Director of Photography: George T. Clemens
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Phil Barber
Set Decoration: H. Web Arrowsmith
Assistant Director: Darrell Hallenbeck
Editor: Jason Bernie
Sound: Franklin Milton and Bill Edmondson
And Now, Mr. Serling:“Next week on The Twilight Zone, we use a camera like an X-ray and look under the skin of a neighborhood of men and women. It’s a little experiment in human nature and behavior on the night that a Conelrad broadcast shatters their composure with an announcement of terse terror: a bomb is coming. Most of our stores are a little far out. This one is very close in. You’ll see what I mean next week when we present ‘The Shelter.’”
Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:“What you are about to watch is a nightmare. It is not meant to be prophetic. It need not happen. It’s the fervent and urgent prayer of all men of good will that it never shall happen. But in this place, in this moment, it does happen. This is The Twilight Zone.”
Summary:While a birthday party is taking place for Dr. William (Bill) Stockton in his suburban home, surrounded by his family, friends, and neighbors, Bill’s son, Paul, informs the partygoers of an emergency radio broadcast. The President of the United States has issued a yellow alert after unidentified flying objects have been detected heading toward the United States. In the context of the Cold War, this means a probable nuclear attack. The partygoers quickly disperse and Bill’s family prepares to enter their fallout shelter, which had been installed the previous summer, by gathering food, water, and various other supplies. Soon, the water and the power shut off in the home, heightening the alarm.
Though the neighbors have previously teased Bill about the construction of his fallout shelter, they now begin to arrive with their families in tow to seek his aid in this moment of crisis. None of the neighbors have followed Bill’s lead and constructed a fallout shelter for their own families. Bill quickly locks his family into their shelter and tells all who come begging at the door that there is not enough space, oxygen, or supplies to let anyone else in. The shelter was designed for the survival of three people: Bill, his wife, and their son.
The response from the Stockton’s friends and neighbors is shocking anger and violence. The neighbors, in an attempt to be chosen by Bill to be allowed into the shelter, begin to verbally tear each other down, exposing secret prejudices and hatreds. Desperation gathers the neighbors together in an attempt to use a battering ram to get through the door of Bill’s shelter and spoil the Stockton’s attempt at survival. While the neighbors are in the process of breaking down the door to the fallout shelter, another radio broadcast is heard. The unidentified flying objects are identified as satellites. The threat is over, yet the damage done through the panic will change their lives as friends and neighbors forever.
Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:No moral, no message, no prophetic tract, just a simple statement of fact: for civilization to survive the human race has to remain civilized. Tonight’s very small exercise in logic from The Twilight Zone.”
Commentary:It seems to be an unavoidable practice, yet also an unfair one, to view Rod Serling’s “The Shelter” in the context of his enduring first season episode, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street.” There is no denying the many similarities. Both episodes present a Middle-American neighborhood sent into hysteria over a poorly perceived threat, one a series of tricks (and the instigation of an imaginative child), the other a false alarm. Both feature similar American stereotypes designed to represent the many facets of the American “Everyman” or “Everywoman.” Both episodes present moments of mob violence that must have been shocking amid the relatively safe offerings of early 1960's American television. Both episodes tackle the ugly problems of middle century America head-on in an unblinking manner, most especially the inner prejudices each one of us secretly harbors and keeps hidden from our neighbors and friends.
Rod Serling often revisited previous material on the series but rarely did so without presenting a new way of looking at the chosen subject matter. “The Shelter” is no exception, and the episode has achieved a reputation for quality independent of its connection to the earlier episode, as evidenced by the research of Martin Grams, Jr., who notes, in his book, The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic (OTR, 2008), that reprint rights for the one-act play were quickly bought by Charles Scribner’s Sons Publishers for inclusion in a contemporary textbook. The episode was also one of the show’s best reviewed segments at the time of its initial broadcast and viewer response was immediate and enthusiastic. During a radio interview with Bob Crane, Serling stated that the episode received 1,300 letters and cards over a two day period after the initial broadcast. Listen to the full interview here. It gives a fascinating insight into Serling’s impetus for writing “The Shelter” as well as a contemporary discussion of the topic.
Whether or not “The Shelter” would have been written and produced had Serling not first had success with “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” is debatable. The result remains the same: a vastly interesting episode, if for no other reason than Serling was able to clean up some of the (few) problems of the earlier episode and change some of the elements to better suit the timely treatment of the theme. It is interesting to consider what the view of the two episodes would be had “The Shelter” been first to air. Of course, one of the fundamental differences in the two episodes is that by the third season of the series, Serling no longer felt the need to cloak his socially conscious episodes in the trappings of the science fiction genre in order to camouflage the message to the viewer and elude the ire of corporate sponsors. The steady ratings and the Emmy Awards ensured the show could be plainly bold in its approach to sensitive social matters.
“The Shelter” offers nothing as trite as the “little green men from space” invasion backdrop presented in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street,” an element which may, ironically, explain that episode’s enduring popularity. Besides an unseen flyover sound effect near the beginning of the panic, and the use of the term “unidentified flying object,” “The Shelter” offers no such imaginative removal from the issue at hand. Serling was attacking the real anxieties of the American public with a logical doomsday scenario. In “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street,” the intelligent viewer intuited what Rod Serling was really talking about when he talked about alien invaders: the red scare, irrational prejudice, unwarranted paranoia, fear of the outsider among us, a horror of cultural assimilation. “The Shelter” requires no such interpretation. It spells out its message clearly and in relative terms, even to a viewer removed from the initial broadcast by more than half a century. It is this quality and the immediacy of the topic that give the episode its power to stun the viewer, even upon repeated viewings. Though Serling’s closing narration states “No moral, no message, no prophetic tract,” he immediately states the episode’s moral and message: “for civilization to survive, the human race has to remain civilized.”
Serling was undoubtedly drawn back to the themes inherent in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” because the anxiety over imminent nuclear war had greatly increased in the two years since the broadcast of that first season episode. No longer was Middle America only frightened by a silent, insidious Communist invasion but also by the threat of sudden, spectacular apocalypse. The main ingredient missing from “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” was the symbolic image of the fallout shelter and what it represented to the average American at the height of the Cold War. It was a powerful enough symbol to prompt Serling to revisit the material by exploring what would happen during an emergency if only one person in a neighborhood possessed a fallout shelter. Would we hold it together or would we, when faced with our own deaths, collapse into violence and savagery? What would be the ethical answer to the problem for the one family that possessed the shelter?
By 1961, the fallout shelter had become as much an emblem of the American way of life as the television upon which the series was broadcast to millions of Americans every Friday night, perhaps more so. An entire manufacturing industry had grown up around the anxiety of nuclear war and many Americans with the financial means to do so were seriously contemplating the construction of a fallout shelter on their property. Sundry items were being marketed based on their effectiveness in a fallout situation.
“The Shelter” offered Serling an opportunity to present a timely episode about a looming social and political issue as well as revisit previous material in an attempt to mold it differently and see how it behaves. One of the key differences in “The Shelter” and the earlier episode it resembles is that, in “The Shelter,” Serling juxtaposes the inherent tension of the episode with moments of levity, which serves to heighten the horror as it unfolds. Once viewed, even the episode’s simple title has a blackly humorous double meaning. “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” doesn’t present such a juxtaposition. Instead, the tension begins immediately with a flyover sound effect and only increases to the violent conclusion. All is unrelieved dramatic tension which is why that early episode can feel somewhat stilted in its delivery and rushed in its pacing.
Serling chose to begin “The Shelter” with a birthday party, a universally identifiable event that displays the close connections between the residents of the neighborhood in order to present a stark contrast to the manner in which the episode will play out. Serling understood that to better bring home the impact of the theme the viewer must be made to see the characters together in a pleasant social setting. We must believe that these characters have long enjoyed agreeable relations. Moments in the script allude to frequent get-togethers and barbecues. As an added measure of plausibility, Serling makes the birthday party one characterized by drunkenness, which can logically explain at least some of the impulsive and irrational behavior after the panic begins.
Even when the tension has mounted to the near breaking point, Serling and director Lamont Johnson take a moment to show two children secretly partake of the half-eaten, forgotten birthday cake on the dining room table while their parents discuss desperate solutions to their dire situation. It is a wonderful moment that lends the episode a frightening verisimilitude, somewhat lacking in "The Monsters are Due on Maple Street." That earlier episode, on the other hand, presents the characters independent of each other and only later coming out of their homes to react to the threat.
Another difference in the two episodes is the logical catalyst that propels the panic. However believable the viewer finds the likelihood of a young boy’s imagination, together with some unusual electrical phenomena, igniting a panic, there is little doubt that such an emergency radio broadcast as depicted in “The Shelter” was something very likely to be on the minds of most adult Americans in 1961. That, along with the pervasive presence of the partygoers’s drunkenness, present a very likely scenario for panic, regardless of time or place. It is the sharp contrast between a joyful party and the sudden onset of very real physical danger that lends “The Shelter” an alarming, disorienting quality. Serling is intimating that when frightening events happen quickly, people may temporarily recourse to an emotional state in which one can react on a purely instinctual level.
This brings to mind another episode of broadcast history which likely inspired Serling in constructing both “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” and “The Shelter.” This was the October 30, 1938 broadcast of The War of the Worlds by Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre on the Air. Presented as a news bulletin, this radio adaptation of H.G. Wells’ science fiction novel caused controversy as it convinced some listeners that the Earth was actually being invaded by hostile extraterrestrials, presumably causing panic in the streets. Though reports of the mass hysteria caused by the broadcast have been greatly exaggerated in the ensuing years, due mostly to contemporary newspaper attempts to discredit radio in the latter medium’s early days, the myth of the Mercury Theatre broadcast quickly became a permanent part of American popular culture, to the point of attaining something close to the status of folklore. If the reader is interested in learning more about it, they would do well to read Slate's article on the persistent myth of the broadcast, written by Jefferson Pooley and Michael J. Socolow.
Though a child is partially responsible for the initial paranoia in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street,” children are even more prevalent in “The Shelter,” as the subject of saving the children becomes a point of both strength and fear, and is one of the chief catalysts of violence as the tension increases. “The Shelter” presents the story in the form of a ticking clock, a countdown to Armageddon, which serves to better justify both the fast pace of a half-hour program and the sudden change in behavior of some of the characters. One of the major deficiencies in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” is that all of it happens a bit too fast and the events cannot justify the necessary quick pacing. Another important similarity between the two episodes is that Serling chose darkness as the moment when the panic really revs up. He suggests that it is easy to continue to be rational as the lights remain on, but once we are cast into darkness begin our descent into madness and savagery. This is by no means a new idea or an outmoded idea if the modern viewer will only recall the panic of the Y2K scare at the beginning of the 21st century, when the idea of a new dark age briefly placed the world on edge.
Serling wisely chose to set “The Shelter” within the home and shows the viewer only small glimpses of the panic on the street, whereas “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” takes place wholly outside on the street and we are not privy to viewing the sanctuary of the characters’s private lives. The change is fundamental to the impact of the story, as seeing the destruction within a home, the most private of American institutions, is more forceful than a confrontation on a street in an intentionally stereotypical American neighborhood.
The preceding is not an attempt to present “The Shelter” as a superior example of the theme first explored in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street,” or to present the episode as wholly dependent upon the other, but only to suggest that “The Shelter” is deserving of being viewed in a positive light outside of the shadow of the earlier, and more famous, episode. Of course “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” has the advantage of originality of concept as well as, despite the Emmy Award laden talent in front of the camera for “The Shelter,” perhaps the most talented ensemble of character actors of any episode of the series. Actress Mary Gregory, who portrays Mrs. Henderson, wife of Frank, in “The Shelter,” is the only cast member to appear in both “The Shelter” and in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street.” The latter episode remains one of the jewels in the crown of Rod Serling’s efforts on the show and was a rich enough concept to produce a second take on the theme that is nearly as powerful as the original.
“The Shelter” features the debut of director Lamont Johnson on the series. Johnson would be a mainstay on the series for the third season and helm some of the finest episodes of the show, including “Five Characters in Search of an Exit” and a pair of writer George Clayton Johnson’s finest, “Nothing in the Dark” and “Kick the Can.” Lamont Johnson also directed Charles Beaumont’s excellent fourth season episode “Passage on the Lady Anne,” his sole directing credit on the series beyond the third season. Johnson also directed “One More Pallbearer,” a Rod Serling-penned episode that is thematically related to “The Shelter” in that the story revolves around a fallout shelter, though the episodes differ radically in their approach to the subject and in their success as effective drama. With the departure of Douglas Heyes after the second season of the series, it was fortunate for producer Buck Houghton to acquire the talents of a director like Lamont Johnson, a former actor who understood well the requirements of dramatic storytelling. Much like with Douglas Heyes, and along with stalwart series director John Brahm, many of the best scripts would be funneled to Lamont Johnson.
Johnson (1922-2010) was born in Stockton, California and began his acting career in 1951 performing on syndicated radio programs, portraying characters as diverse as Tarzan and Archie Goodwin, assistant to actor Sydney Greenstreet’s Nero Wolfe. Johnson made the move to acting in films and television before finding his niche behind the camera in the director’s chair, working almost entirely in television. His efforts yielded eleven Emmy Award nominations and eight Director’s Guild of America Award nominations. Johnson finished his career with two Emmy Awards and four Director’s Guild of America Awards. Despite the fact that Johnson’s efforts on The Twilight Zone were very successful, he rarely worked within the fantasy genre outside of the series and was never called upon to helm episodes of similar contemporary programs.
Unfortunately, Lamont Johnson did not think highly of “The Shelter,” or, more specifically, of Rod Serling’s script for the episode. Author Marc Scott Zicree quotes Johnson in his book The Twilight Zone Companion (Bantam, 1989, second ed.) as saying: “It was too uptight with its own self-righteousness, I think. I found it an interesting idea, I think the thesis was excellent, but I think its devices and general style of writing were a little too pompous.” This low opinion of the episode is one shared by Zicree as well. The episode is certainly pessimistic in nature and perhaps this quality engineers a negative response from those more in tune with the lighter, reassuring episodes. Or perhaps it is, as Serling notes in his preview narration, a little too “close in” for some viewers, lacking as it does that comforting barrier of fantasy found in so many other episodes.
In any case, “The Shelter” remains a powerful episode that still speaks to many societal problems being experienced by Americans in the 21st century, nearly sixty years after its initial broadcast. If it is derivative in places it is equally original in others. It is interesting to contemplate the personal impact on the viewer of “The Shelter” during its initial broadcast, as little of American television was willing to be as dark, daring, and blunt as was The Twilight Zone when Rod Serling turned his talents to attacking a timely social issue. Serling would by no means be finished with the concept after “The Shelter,” as he would approach the themes at the heart of the episode in one form or another in later episodes such as “The Midnight Sun,” "Dust," “On Thursday We Leave for Home,” “The Old Man in the Cave,” and “I Am the Night-Color Me Black.”
-Academy Award and Emmy Award winner Jack Albertson (1907-1981), best known for the sitcom Chico and the Man and the film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, also appears in the fourth season episode “I Dream of Genie” as well as in “Dead Weight,” a segment of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery.
-Sandy Kenyon, born Sanford Klein (1922-2010), also appears in the episodes “The Odyssey of Flight 33,” from season two, and “Valley of the Shadow” from season four. Kenyon also has credits on Alcoa Presents: One Step Beyond and The Outer Limits. Kenyon was an accomplished voice actor for animated television late in his career.
-Jo Helton also appears in the season four episode “On Thursday We Leave for Home.”
-As stated before, actress Mary Gregory has the distinction of also appearing in “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street,” as well as the second season episode, “The Lateness of the Hour.” She appears in an episode of Rod Serling's Night Gallery titled "The Different Ones."
-John McLiam also appears in the fourth season episode “Miniature,” as well as in uncredited roles for the third season episode “The Midnight Sun” and the fifth season episode “Uncle Simon.”
-Despite the fact that Rod Serling adapted “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” into a short story for his 1960 collection Stories From the Twilight Zone, he felt confident enough in similar episode “The Shelter” to adapt it into a short story as well for his 1962 collection New Stories From the Twilight Zone.
-“The Shelter” was adapted into a Twilight Zone Radio Drama starring Ernie Hudson.