"Night Call"

 

Ring ring. It's your nightmares.

“Night Call”
Season Five, Episode 139
Original Air Date: February 7, 1964 

Cast:
Elva Keene: Gladys Cooper
Margaret Phillips: Nora Marlowe
Miss Finch: Martine Bartlett
Voice of Brian Douglas: Ken Drake

Crew:
Writer: Richard Matheson (based on his story “Long Distance Call”)
Director: Jacques Tourneur
Producer: Bert Granet
Director of Photography: Robert W. Pittack
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Walter Holscher
Film Editor: Richard Heermance
Set Decoration: Henry Grace and Robert R Benton
Assistant Director: Charles Bonniwell, Jr.
Casting: Patricia Rose
Music: Stock
Sound: Franklin Milton and Philip N. Mitchell
Mr. Serling’s Wardrobe: Eagle Clothes
Filmed at MGM Studios

And Now, Mr. Serling:

“Next time out on The Twilight Zone, Richard Matheson provides us with a tour-de-force in suspense and the unexpected with a show called ‘Night Call.’ It stars one of the most eminent actresses of our time, Miss Gladys Cooper, and it poses the kind of question that arises when a telephone keeps ringing and you realize that the caller has not been on Earth for a number of years. I hope this intrigues because I think the show will. Next time out, ‘Night Call.’”

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:

“Miss Elva Keene lives alone on the outskirts of London Flats, a tiny rural community in Maine. Up until now, the pattern of Miss Keene’s existence has been that of lying in her bed or sitting in her wheelchair reading books, listening to the radio, eating, napping, taking medicine and waiting for something different to happen. Miss Keene doesn’t know it yet, but her period of waiting has just ended, for something different is about to happen to her, and has in fact already begun to happen, via two most unaccountable telephone calls in the middle of a stormy night. Telephone calls routed directly through…the Twilight Zone.”

Summary:

Elva Keene lives alone in a small house in a rural community in Maine. Wheelchair bound, the elderly Miss Keene is attended to by her caretaker, Margaret, during the day. One night, during a particularly devastating storm, Elva Keene is awoken by the ringing of her telephone. It is two in the morning. She picks up the receiver and hears only static. Figuring it a bad connection, she hangs ups. Seconds later, the phone rings again. She picks it up. Just jumbled static. Confused and shaken, she hangs up.

The next morning, Keene dials the local operator to inquire about the strange phone calls. The operator informs her that it may have just been a faulty connection due to the storm and that, for the moment, the calls are not able to be traced due to the aftermath of the storm. Miss Finch, the operator, tells her that if the calls continue, to let her know. Later that day, she receives another call. Like before, she is unable to hear anyone on the other end. She calls the operator again.

That night, she receives another call. “Hello,” she says. A deep, anguished moaning seeps from the receiver. A man’s voice. “Hello,” she says. “Hello,” the voice responds. Frightened, she drops the receiver. The next morning, she tells Miss Finch about the call but it is apparent that she does not believe her. Miss Finch tells her that she will have someone check the line.

Later that day, Miss Keene receives another call. Margaret tells her to keep the phone off the hook until she needs to make a call. That night, she attempts to take Margaret’s advice, but the dial tone is too loud. She places the receiver back on the hook. The phone rings immediately. She answers it. “Where are you? I want to talk to you?” the voice repeats on a loop. “Leave me alone!” she screams at the voice.

The next day, Miss Finch calls Miss Keene and tells her that they were able to trace the calls to a fallen wire just outside of town. At a cemetery.

Margaret drives Miss Keene to Valley View Cemetery. Keene instructs her where to go. They stop at the grave of Brian Douglas, who died in 1932. There is a fallen phone line spliced open on top of the grave site. Keene then reveals that this is the grave of her fiancé who died in a car accident a week before they were to be married. Keene describes her younger self as a demanding young woman who was very controlling of her fiancé. Against his advice, she was driving the car that night in 1932 when she lost control and smashed into a tree, killing her fiancé and paralyzing herself. She realizes now that Brian is trying to communicate with her. Maybe now she will not feel so alone.

That night, no longer frightened, Elva Keene picks up the receiver, anxious to speak with her long-departed love. After an eternity she hears a voice. “You said leave you alone,” the voice says. “I always do what you say.” The line goes dead. She begs Brian to come back but her efforts are in vain. The line is quiet, and Elva Keene is all alone.

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:

“According to the Bible, God created the heavens and the Earth. It is man’s prerogative, and woman’s, to create their own particular and private Hell. Case in point, Miss Elva Keene, who in every sense has made her own bed and now must lie in it, sadder but wiser, by dint of a rather painful lesson in responsibility. Transmitted...from the Twilight Zone.”

Commentary:

Writer Richard Matheson’s penultimate episode of The Twilight Zone continues what is arguably his most successful and most productive season of the show’s five year run. Thus far into the show’s final season he had seen his stories, “Steel” and “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” made into highly acclaimed episodes of the show, the former being his personal favorite episode of the show, and the latter eventually becoming the most well-known episode of the show, and by extension, one of the most famous moments in television history. With “Night Call” Matheson would get to work with a director he had long admired, Jacques Tourneur, to produce another of his favorite episodes of the show. He would see just one more of his scripts produced on the show, “Spur of the Moment.” Matheson saw more of his scripts produced during the final season than in any of the previous four seasons. A fifth script, “The Doll,” was purchased by producer Bert Granet and was slated for production but was later cut from the production schedule by incoming producer William Froug after Granet left the show for a position on the CBS series The Great Adventure. “The Doll” was later made into an episode of Amazing Stories in 1986 by director Phil Joanou. It starred John Lithgow as a lonely bachelor who buys a doll for his niece’s birthday but ends up becoming captivated by it. Lithgow won his first Emmy Award for his performance and Matheson was nominated for a Writers Guild of America Award for his script. No reason was given for not going forward with the production. It could possibly be that there had already been a highly acclaimed episode called “Living Doll” earlier in the season but, given that Froug also cancelled production on teleplays by writers Charles Beaumont and Jerry Sohl, it’s likely that he simply wanted to bring in new writers and take the show in a different direction. Whether or not Matheson would have continued to submit new teleplays for the show’s sixth season, had it been renewed, is a question lost to history. But with four memorable episodes during its fifth and final season, Matheson would exit the show on a high note.

Famously, “Night Call” was originally slated to air the night of Friday, November 22, 1963 but was postponed, as all scheduled programing on network television was, after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas earlier that day. Instead, due to the particularly grim nature of the episode, they bumped it to February 7, 1964.

Matheson originally published this story under the editor-chosen title of “Sorry, Right Number” in the November, 1953 issue of Beyond Fantasy Fiction. It later appeared in his collection, Shock! (Dell, 1961) under his preferred title of “Long Distance Call.” The title was changed again after Matheson’s teleplay was purchased by producer Bert Granet because the show had already aired an episode called “Long Distance Call,” written by Charles Beaumont and Bill Idelson, during its second season. The title was changed to “Night Call,” this time with Matheson’s approval.

The first half of Matheson’s teleplay is faithful to his story almost down to each line of dialogue, but the end of the episode differs significantly from its source material. The stories are the same up until the scene where Elva Keene is informed that the calls are coming from a severed line located at a cemetery on the edge of town. The scene then abruptly ends. The next, final scene sees Miss Keene alone in her bed that night, petrified with fear. Finally, the phone rings and, feeling as if she must, she picks it up. “Hello, Miss Elva,” the voice on the other end says. “I’ll be right over.” End story. There is no fiancé and there is no trip to the cemetery. Miss Keene is never really given any kind of backstory, so the reader is not persuaded into feeling any kind of sympathy for her.

Matheson was well known for not favoring changes to his material but in this instance the change came from Matheson himself. He told editor Stanley Wiater that he felt his original ending was too morbid and that he preferred the ending of the episode because it made the story more of a character study. The ending of the original story is fun and ghastly, à la Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, but the updated ending gives the main character a lot more depth and leaves the viewer with a sense of devastation at the loss that she has suffered. Matheson is not simply setting the audience up for a punch at the end of the episode. There is a punch, of course, in the scene in which the operator tells Miss Keene that the call is coming from the cemetery. But this comes only midway through the episode. There is an entire act that follows. Matheson delivers the shock that the audience is expecting early so he can make the real jolt the tragedy that is Elva Keene’s doomed, unhappy existence.

There is debate among fans as to whether Miss Keene deserves her unfortunate fate. Matheson does not appear to insinuate one way or another. He does provide clues throughout the episode that give the audience a glimpse into the kind of life she has lived and into her wants and insecurities. She is a demanding person with an abrasive personality, a trait that she appears to be, at least on some level, ashamed of. She was behind the wheel the night her fiancé was killed because she demanded to be. But she was also permanently injured and has had to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for his death her entire life. One would think that she is entitled to at least some sympathy. But, as it appears, Matheson is implying that sympathy cannot change the past.

“Night Call” was directed by legendary French director Jacques Tourneur, whom Matheson personally requested for this episode. Tourneur had been directing films for thirty years at this point and was noted for his highly atmospheric style, having helped pioneer the black and white aesthetic that would become known as film noir. He was the son of famed director Maurice Tourneur and started working in the industry while still in high school. He and his father moved back and forth between Hollywood and France so Tourneur became familiar with both American and French filmmaking. He first made a name for himself as a director of low-budget horror films for RKO under legendary producer Val Lewton. For Lewton, Tourneur directed the iconic horror film Cat People in 1942 and followed it with I Walked with a Zombie and The Leopard Man in 1943. After this, Tourneur was promoted to A-list pictures at RKO. In 1947, he directed the film noir, Out of the Past, further cementing his reputation as a reliable and creatively ambitious director. He eventually left RKO for a freelance career. His other films include Stars in My Crown (1950), Nightfall (1956), and Night of the Demon (1957).

When asked by producer Bert Granet which directors he would like to see direct some of his Twilight Zone episodes, Matheson’s only answer was Jacques Tourneur. Granet was initially hesitant because Tourneur was a film director and had limited experience directing episodic television—this was not entirely true as Tourneur had, by this point, directed many episodes of The Californians and several other half-hour episodic series, but he was an older director who was still relatively new to television so Granet had doubts about Tourneur being able to complete production on time. The two had actually worked together years before on the film Berlin Express in 1948. As it turned out, according to Matheson, Tourneur completed production in less than thirty hours, making “Night Call” one of the shortest production schedules of the entire series. 

Cat People
(1942)

Matheson had been a longtime admirer of Tourneur’s and of Val Lewton’s. As a teenager, he wrote letters to Lewton telling him how much he enjoyed his films, particularly Cat People. When Matheson was brought in to pitch his idea for The Birds to director Alfred Hitchcock he used Cat People as an example of his approach to the script. He felt not showing the birds would make them scarier, as it had with the cats in Tourneur’s film. Needless to say, Hitchcock did not agree with his approach and ended up using over three thousand live birds in his film. To his delight, Matheson got to work with Tourneur twice in less than a year. In 1963, Tourneur directed the Matheson-penned horror spoof, The Comedy of Terrors, for American International Pictures, for whom Matheson had just scripted four films in Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe cycle.

Tourneur brings an overtly noir sensibility to Matheson’s script, with elements of his horror background on display as well. The daytime scenes are shot traditionally with lots of lighting but the night scenes contain lots of interesting atmosphere, including a cool shot of the shadows of branches reflected on Gladys Cooper’s face as they sway in the wind just outside the window. The loud, abrasive ring of the telephone is also a very jarring and effective device. What gives these scenes such an unforgettably disturbing quality is the sound of the voice on the phone (voiced by Ken Drake) which increases in cognizance every time Miss Keene answers the phone. The pacing of these scenes, and the increase in Elva Keene’s dread, is what stays with the audience after the episode is over. It is unfortunate that Tourneur directed only a single episode, his aesthetic fits the show perfectly.

Gladys Cooper returns for the third and final time on The Twilight Zone. She previously appeared in the season three episode “Nothing in the Dark” giving a most remarkable performance. She also appears in a supporting role in the season four episode “Passage on the Lady Anne.” Cooper rose to fame on stage in London’s West End, occasionally appearing on Broadway and in early British films as well. She moved to Hollywood in 1940 at the age of 52 and found immediate success. Her first role in her new home was in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca in 1940. In 1942 she appeared as a dominating matriarch in what is probably her most famous role in Irving Rapper’s Now, Voyager. Other roles include The Song of Bernadette (1943), The Bishop’s Wife (1947), The Secret Garden (1949), and My Fair Lady (1964). She was nominated three times for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

Her performance here is incredible. Cooper was known for playing strong, often domineering women. Both of her leading roles on The Twilight Zone often showcase this ability although they are also very anxious, frightened characters as well. Her ability to balance both of these emotions is done seamlessly. In contrast, her supporting role in the hour-long “Passage on the Lady Anne” displays a light, amiable side and is just as believable. All three of her episodes concern old age, a subject the show would return to again and again.

Nora Marlowe appeared previously on the show in the season two episode “Back There.” She was often cast as nurses, nuns, and housekeepers. She had bit roles in the films An Affair to Remember (1957), North by Northwest (1959), The Thomas Crown Affair (1968), and Soylent Green (1973). She was a prolific presence in episodic television of the era but today she is probably best remembered for her recurring role as Flossie Brimmer on The Waltons.

Martine Bartlett was also active in television during the 1960s including a role in the miniseries Sybil in 1976. Her most recognizable role was as Miss Metcalf in Elia Kazan’s Splendor in the Grass (1961). 

Ken Drake appeared in numerous television series including dozens of appearances on Sea Hunt and a short-lived leading role on the crime series Not for Hire opposite Ralph Meeker.

“Night Call” may seem like an atypical episode to some, given its macabre sensibilities, but it’s still an enjoyable one and it’s one of the best offerings of the show’s fifth season. Matheson’s script is trimmed and crafted to perfection, Tourneur’s pacing and atmosphere are highly effective, and Gladys Cooper turns in a remarkable performance as the controlling but insecure Elva Keene. It comes recommended.

Grade: A

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following:

The Twilight Zone Scripts of Richard Matheson, Vol.2, edited Stanley Wiater (Edge Books, 2002)

Richard Matheson: Collected Stories, Vol. 1, edited by Stanley Wiater (Gauntlet Press, 2003)

The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR, 2008)

The Twilight Zone Companion by Marc Scott Zicree (3rd ed., Silman-James Press, 2018)

Internet Speculative Fiction Database

Internet Movie Database

Wikipedia

Notes:

__Richard Matheson first published this story under the title “Sorry, Right Number” (editor’s title) in the November, 1953 issue of Beyond Fantasy Fiction. It was later collected in his collection of short fiction, Shock! (Dell, 1961), under his preferred title, “Long Distance Call.” It is currently available in his collections Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (Tor, 2002) and The Best of Richard Matheson (Penguin Books, 2017).

__Matheson’s script for this episode can be found in Richard Matheson’s The Twilight Zone Scripts, Vol. 2 (Gauntlet Press, 2002) edited by Stanley Wiater.

__Gladys Cooper also appeared in the season three episode “Nothing in the Dark” and the season four episode “Passage on the Lady Anne.”

__Nora Marlowe also appeared in the season two episode “Back There.”

__Ken Drake also appeared in season two’s “A Hundred Yards Over the Rim” and season five’s “A Kind of a Stopwatch.”

__“Night Call” was adapted into a Twilight Zone Radio Drama by author Dennis Etchison in 2009. It stars Mariette Hartley and was directed by Carl Amari and Roger Wolski.

 

Brian

"Number 12 Looks Just Like You"

Marilyn Cuberle (Collin Wilcox),
moments before she becomes beautiful.

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You”
Season Five, Episode 137
Original Air Date: January 24, 1964

 

Cast:

Collin Wilcox:

Marilyn Cuberle / Lana (photo album picture)

Richard Long:

Uncle Rick / Dr. Rex / Sigmund Friend / Tom / Tad / Jack / Attendant

Suzy Parker:

Lana Cuberle / Grace / Eva / Jane / Doe / Patient / Number 12

Pam Austin:
Valerie / Marilyn (post-transformation) / Number 8

 

Crew:
Writers: Charles Beaumont and John Tomerlin (based on Beaumont’s story “The Beautiful People”)
Director: Abner Biberman
Producer: William Froug
Director of Photography: Charles Wheeler
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Malcolm Brown
Film Editor: Thomas W. Scott
Set Decoration: Henry Grace and Robert R. Benton
Assistant Director: Charles Bonniwell, Jr.
Casting: Patricia Rose
Music: Stock
Sound: Franklin Milton and Joe Edmondson
Mr. Serling’s Wardrobe: Eagle Clothes
Filmed at MGM Studios

 

And Now, Mr. Serling:

“On our next outing, Charles Beaumont comes through with another delightful flight of futuristic fancy, about a society of another time in which you literally can’t tell the players without a score card. They all appear in an identical mold. Collin Wilcox, Richard Long, and special guest star Suzy Parker appear in a program called ‘Number 12 Looks Just Like You.’ I hope you’re around to catch the similarity.”

 

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:

“Given the chance, what young girl wouldn’t happily exchange a plain face for a lovely one? What girl could refuse the opportunity to be beautiful? For want of a better estimate, let’s call it the year 2000. At any rate, imagine a time in the future when science has developed a means of giving everyone the face and body he dreams of. It may not happen tomorrow, but it happens now…in the Twilight Zone.”

Summary:

In the year 2000, all citizens must select one of a few dozen physical avatars upon turning 19, thus forcing the entire population to conform to an established standard of beauty and making many citizens basically identical.

Marilyn has arrived at the age of transformation but has doubts about its validity and purpose. Her mother, Lana, her Uncle Rick, and her best friend, Val, have all gone through the transformation and they all assure her that her precaution is unnecessary, even silly. Attempting to alleviate her anxiety, they offer her cups of Instant Smile. Fearing that she may be unwell, Lana and Rick suggest she see a doctor.

 At the state-run office of Dr. Rex, a man that, because of the transformation, looks physically identical to Marilyn’s uncle and her late father, Lana explains why she is worried. The doctor is baffled and concerned to hear that Marilyn does not want the transformation. She says she doesn’t want to look like everyone else. The doctor says the transformation doesn’t just change a person’s physical appearance. It also helps them adjust emotionally to adulthood. Dr. Rex attempts to examine the cause of Marilyn’s apprehension. Marilyn is hooked up to a machine that eventually prints out results of some kind. Dr. Rex takes the results and studies them. Lana tells him that Marilyn’s father died five years prior in the Ganymede incident. After some questioning, the doctor learns that Marilyn’s father, who underwent transformation like everyone else, held nonconformist views of society and was highly critical of transformation. Dr. Rex suggests that Marilyn stay at the facility for further examination. Marilyn asks him if it’s possible to refuse the transformation. He assures her that no one has ever been forced to undergo the transformation against their wishes.

Marilyn is brought to the office of Professor Sigmund Friend for questioning. Professor Sig tells her that transformation is an important and necessary step not just in the life of a single individual but in society at large as a tool to help eliminate inequality and prejudice. If no one is ugly then everyone is on an equal playing field. Marilyn tells him that she isn’t ugly. The professor assures her that she is. He also explains that the transformation can eliminate illness and prolong life. Marilyn tells Professor Sig that her father introduced her to banned literature like Shakespeare and Shelley and Keats and Dostoevsky and Greek philosophers and that she sees value in their work. Seeing Marilyn as a potential risk, he orders her to stay at the facility overnight.

In her room, Marilyn is visited by Val and her mother. She tells them that Dr. Rex lied about being able to refuse the transformation. They are going to force her to go through with it. Dr. Rex appears and informs Lana and Val that it is time for them to leave. Lana leaves but Val stays a moment longer. She tells Marilyn that she does not understand why she is so preoccupied with her deceased father, especially since she has had several stepfathers since then. Marilyn tells her that her father was a kind, caring person who valued individuality and human connection. Then she confesses that her father did not die in the Ganymede incident but that he committed suicide as a result of his transformation. Seeing the look of confusion on her friend’s face, Marilyn realizes that Val cannot comprehend why she is upset. Feeling completely alone in the world, Marilyn explodes into sobs. Baffled by Marilyn’s emotional outburst, Val leaves.

Once she is alone, Marilyn sneaks out of her room and flees down a hallway. Trying to evade capture, she races into a random room and straight into the arms of Dr. Rex and a hospital attendant, both dressed in full surgical fatigues. This is the transformation room. They spot a tag around Marilyn’s neck with #8 written on it and assume this is her chosen avatar. They tell her it is an excellent choice.

Several days later, Lana and Val wait with Dr. Rex at the hospital. He tells them that the procedure was a success. Marilyn emerges with a glowing smile on her face, looking unrecognizable from the person she was days before. She is pure, unfiltered happiness. She adores herself in the mirror. Everyone tells her she is beautiful. She turns to Val and tells her that the nicest part of all is that she looks just like her.

 

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:

“Portrait of a lady in love…with herself. Improbable? Perhaps. But in an age of plastic surgery, body building, and an infinity of cosmetics, let us hesitate to say impossible. These and other strange blessings may be waiting in the future, which, after all, is the Twilight Zone.

 

Commentary:

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You” is one of the show’s bleakest episodes and one of its harshest. A sharply pointed satire of modern culture that takes aim at many things including the very genre of popular fiction it is emulating. And while it may have felt completely foreign to an audience when it was first broadcast in January of 1964 in between episodes of Route 66 (“Kiss the Monster – Make Him Sleep”) and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (“Beyond the Sea of Death”), it feels alarmingly relevant and familiar in 2025. Many of the issues touched upon in the half hour episode, from the rise of plastic surgery to synthetic mood stabilizers to the disintegration of family norms are all more prevalent now—and were even in the year 2000 when the episode takes place—than when the show first aired. Some of the bigger issues, like government deception and the elimination of individuality, are, unfortunately, commonplace in most periods throughout history. It’s an episode that saw into the future with great accuracy and, along with a handful of other socially charged episodes, is part of the reason for the show’s continued relevance.

By this point, frequent contributor Charles Beaumont was not doing well and his health had declined to the point where he was no longer able to write scripts. Of the three episodes in the show’s final season that bear his name, none were written by Beaumont himself. He would farm out writing assignments to a stable of close friends and then split the money with them. The other two scripts were written by author Jerry Sohl. “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” was given to another close friend, John Tomerlin, who was renting an apartment in New York City at the time while working on a novel, and who gladly accepted a quick assignment to help pay the bills. Tomerlin and Beaumont had gone to New York together a few months earlier to each work on solo projects, Tomerlin on his novel Prisoner of the Iroquois, published in 1965, and Beaumont on what would be one of his last projects, the unfinished novel Where No Man Walks. Not able to concentrate, Beaumont left early and returned to Los Angeles.

“Living Doll” was an idea that originated with Beaumont, was plotted by both Beaumont and Sohl, with Sohl writing the actual script. “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” was taken from Beaumont’s 1952 story, “The Beautiful People,” with Tomerlin doing all the screenwriting. The final episode that would see Beaumont credited as a writer was “Queen of the Nile,” which, according to Sohl, was his idea, his script, and involved little input from Beaumont. So “Number 12 Looks Just Like You,” a title created by neither Beaumont nor Tomerlin, is really the last time Beaumont’s actual ideas and voice were seen on the show.

Like Beaumont, Tomerlin was somewhat of a Renaissance man, dabbling in many different professions and hobbies throughout his life. Screenwriter, novelist, pilot, race car enthusiast, journalist, disc jockey, and avid outdoorsman. Tomerlin lived a full life. He was a regular figure in the circle of writers in Los Angeles in the 1950s and 60s that eventually became known as the Southern California Group of Writers, or the Group. Given their many shared interests, Tomerlin and Beaumont became close friends starting in the early 50s. The two co-wrote a novel together, the first for both writers, under the name Keith Grantland for Fawcett Gold Medal in 1957 called Run from the Hunter. They went on to collaborate frequently, as was common in the Group. Tomerlin contributed pieces to two anthologies of stories and essays on motor racing edited by Beaumont and William F. Nolan, Omnibus of Speed (G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1958) and When Engines Roar (Bantam Pathfinder, 1964). He went on to write several novels about racing including Challenging the Wind (Dutton, 1966) and The Magnificent Jalopy (Dutton, 1967). He also co-wrote an episode of Route 66 with Beaumont and Jerry Sohl called “The Quick and the Dead” and an episode of Richard Diamond, Private Detective with Beaumont called “East of Danger.” Tomerlin’s other screen credits include Wanted: Dead or Alive, Lawman, Thriller and a Dan Curtis-produced ABC Movie of the Week adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray (1973). 

 

"The Beautiful People” was the second story Beaumont published and it originally appeared in the September, 1952 issue of the magazine If. The story varies significantly from the final version that appeared on the screen in 1964. It skips the first two scenes at the Cuberles house and begins with Mary and her mother, Zena, in the doctor’s office. The scene in the episode is almost exactly as Beaumont wrote it in his story with the exception that Mary is not made to stay overnight in a facility and instead the doctor dismisses the Cuberles upon learning that Mary does not want the transformation and refuses any further involvement. Afterwards, Zena, after getting into an argument with Mary, marches about their home attempting to gather up all of her deceased husband’s leftover books to throw them away. We next see Mary at work. She works at an office drawing blueprints for manufacturing equipment and is apparently quite an artist. She is called into her well-meaning supervisor’s office and asked to resign due to her refusal to go through with transformation. Later, at home, Zena receives a letter from the authorities informing her that she and Mary are to appear in court. On the day of the trial, Mary is ordered by law, with the apparent support of society at large, to undergo transformation. The story ends with her on the operating table as needles begin to pierce her skin.

As mentioned, Tomerlin keeps the initial meeting with the doctor very similar to Beaumont’s story but after this his version goes in a very different direction which shapes the message of the story a great deal. Instead of being publicly put on trial for refusing transformation, with the result being that Mary is forced to comply even though the court cannot give her an actual reason why she should, Tomerlin’s authoritarian society is more subtle. The transformation, a tool to keep everyone physically and emotionally derivative, is allowed to keep happening because it is implied that one’s personality is altered in a way that makes them happy with the change (“we just have to find out why you don’t want it and make the necessary adjustments”) therefore never having to make public that there are people who do not want it. Although it should be pointed out, and this is perhaps the only unexplained misstep in the entire episode, if people who are opposed to the transformation are suddenly made to be happy with it, then why did this not occur after Marilyn’s father’s transformation? Beaumont’s story ends before the operation takes place so the reader is unsure of whether Mary will be emotionally altered afterwards. It is implied that her father and grandfather were both still opposed to the transformation even after receiving it.

John Tomerlin wrote two different drafts of this script, both under the title “The Beautiful People.” Both drafts appear in Forgotten Gems of the Twilight Zone, Vol. 2 (2015) edited and with an introduction by Andrew Ramage. The are a lot of differences but most of them are minor. The two most noticeable changes are the addition of Marilyn’s uncle in the second draft, and the change in gender for Val, a character that did not appear in Beaumont’s story. In the first draft Val is male and is implied to be a possible love interest for Marilyn. He is also the only other character that appears even remotely sympathetic to Marilyn’s fears and even helps her escape from the overnight room although this scene is vague and not written particularly well and Marilyn somehow still ends up in the operating room. The switch to a platonic female friend was a better choice as it further isolates Marilyn in this world. Both drafts feature Serling making a rare onscreen appearance at the end of the episode, delivering his closing monologue in the mirror behind Pam Austin after she turns away from it. This was dropped in favor of Austin starring straight into the camera and smiling which makes for a better and far more chilling ending.

As author Marc Scott Zicree touches upon in his commentary for “Number 12” on The Twilight Zone Blu-ray edition, this episode unmistakably recalls the theory of eugenics and the Nazi's pursuit of a so-called Aryan race. While it may just be symptomatic of 1960s television, it should be noted, given the premise of the story, that this episode features only white actors and no mention is made of multiple races coexisting in a world where everyone looks the same. Class is still an issue, however, as Lana and her housemaid, Grace, are physically identical but Lana still feels a social entitlement over Grace and speaks condescendingly to her.

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You” is often thought of as a companion episode to Serling’s “Eye of the Beholder” from the show’s second season. Both episodes feature authoritarian worlds where ugliness is prohibited. They also both feature hospital scenes that take place in dark, shadowy nightmare realms presumably set outside the scrutinizing eye of the public. Serling also commented on prolonging human life in the much gentler season three episode, “The Trade-Ins,” where an ill, aging man is given the opportunity to make he and his wife immortal by trading in their old, brittle bodies for much younger ones.

This episode refers several times to something called the Ganymede incident. Lana claims this is where Marilyn's father lost his life although it is later revealed that he took his own life after his transformation. Ganymede is Jupiter's largest moon, which is likely the reason for Lana's reference to his involvement with the "rocket service." But the moon is named after the Greek mythological character Ganymede who first appears in Homer's The Iliad. He is the youngest son of Tros, founder of the kingdom of Troy, and is said to be the most handsome of all mortals. He is abducted by Zeus and taken to Mount Olympus where Zeus grants him eternal youth as the cupbearer of the Gods.

Actor turned director Abner Biberman began his career on Broadway in the early 1930s before moving to Hollywood a few years later. He made a living as a prolific and reliable character actor, appearing in bit roles, often as ethnically ambiguous characters or criminals. Among his more well-known credits are roles in the films Gunga Din (1939), His Girl Friday (1940), The Leopard Man (1943), and Winchester 73 (1950). In the early 1950s he worked as an acting coach for Universal where Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis were among his pupils. By the middle of the decade he was directing low-budget films for Universal and other studios and soon moved on to episodic television where he enjoyed a highly prolific career. He worked in a variety of genres but was known as a director of western series including twenty-five episodes of The Virginian. His credits also include The Outer Limits, Ironside, and Hawaii Five-O.

Biberman directed a total of four episodes of The Twilight Zone, two of which, “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” and the season two episode “The Dummy,” are fan favorites and are among the most recognizable episodes of the show, both regarded for their visual aesthetic and camerawork. The look of “Number 12” is one of the episode’s greatest attributes. Biberman and the show’s art and set departments create a world that is hyper simplistic, to the point of parody, which adds significantly to the overt satire on display. The simplistic set design, with bare backgrounds and sharp angles, also make the split screen shots of both Suzy Parker and Pam Austin, appearing as two characters at once, look basically seamless, an effect that was not always convincing in this era of filmmaking. It is also to Biberman’s credit, and to the credit of the cast, that despite the fact that the audience is being constantly reminded that there are only four actors in the episode, it still feels like a fully populated world.

A quick mention should be made of director of photography Charles Wheeler. Wheeler was a combat photographer in the United States Navy during World War II and later enjoyed a forty-year career as a cinematographer in Hollywood. He was nominated for an Academy Award for his work on Tora! Tora! Tora! in 1970. His work in this episode is truly remarkable. He is also the director of photography for the episode “Queen of the Nile.” 

Collin Wilcox is best remembered for her role as Mayella Ewell in the film adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird (1962). Her other credits include appearances on a number of television series in the 1960s including Alfred Hitchcock Presents, ‘Way Out, and Circle of Fear and the films Catch 22 (1970), The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (1974) and Jaws 2 (1978). She enjoyed a lengthy stage career as well. Wilcox is an excellent choice for Marilyn Cuberle. Her performance has a rawness to it that plays incredibly well against the rest of the cast.

Richard Long had already appeared in another Charles Beaumont episode, season three’s “Person or Person’s Unknown.” Long signed with Universal when he was still a teenager. His first film role was playing Claudette Colbert and Orson Welles' son in Tomorrow is Forever (1946). Welles was so impressed with the young actor that he cast him in The Stranger that same year. Other notable film roles include Criss Cross (1949), House on Haunted Hill (1959), and the Ma and Pa Kettle films. He is most recognizable as Jarrod Barkley in The Big Valley and Professor Everett in Nanny and the Professor. Long is simply incredible in this episode. A handsome actor, known for playing overly confident characters, he portrays every male character in the episode, each more absurd than the last, but each undeniably interesting. 

When this episode first aired in 1964, Suzy Parker was the most recognizable fashion model in the world. Since that time, she has come to be considered the first globally famous supermodel. At various points in her career, she was the face of both Coco Chanel and Revlon and was the highest paid fashion model ever at that point, earning over $100,000 a year. She made the crossover into acting in 1957 appearing in the Stanley Donen film Kiss Them for Me and continued to act periodically over the next decade. Her final screen credit was the first episode of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery in the segment “The Housekeeper” in 1970. She was significant enough, in fact, to merit a multiple-page photo spread in TV Guide to promote this episode. She was also listed in the credits as “special guest star.” Her shallow and detached portrayal of Marilyn’s mother adds a great deal to the bleak reality of the episode.

Pam Austin’s first screen appearance was in the Elvis Presley film, Blue Hawaii, in 1961 where she became a long-time friend of the singer. She appeared in a second Presley film, Kissin’ Cousins, in 1964. In 1967 she appeared in her own sketch comedy anthology film, The Perils of Pauline, which was intended as a television pilot for a variety show that never materialized. Around the time that this episode aired Austin gained fame as the “Dodge Rebellion Girl” in a series of commercials for Dodge automobiles which ran until 1967. Her aesthetic is well suited for the world in which these characters live and the final shot of her facing directly towards the camera, a beautiful, smiling woman, is perhaps the most chilling moment of the entire episode.

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You” is a superb episode of The Twilight Zone and a stunning half hour of television. It's unfortunate that John Tomerlin did not write anything else for the show. His sole entry is remarkable and seems right at home in the show's catalog. It remains one of the best examples to Rod Serling's commitment to journalistic honesty and is a great example of why the the show is still relevant.

Grade: A 

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following:

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You” by John Tomerlin; Forgotten Gems from the Twilight Zone, Vol.2 edited and with an introduction by Andrew Ramage (BearManor Media, 2015)

The Work of Charles Beaumont: An Annotated Bibliography and Guide edited by William F. Nolan (2^nd ed., Borgo Press, 1990)

“An Interview with Twilight Zoner John Tomerlin” by Christopher Conlon, Filmfax #97 (June/July, 2003)

“Number 12 Looks Just Like You” episode commentary by Marc Scott Zicree, The Twilight Zone: The Complete Series Blu-ray (Image Entertainment, 2016)

The Twilight Zone Companion by Marc Scott Zicree (3^rd ed., Silman-James Press, 2018)

Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR, 2008)

Internet Speculative Fiction Database

Internet Movie Database 

Wikipedia

           

Original artwork for "The Beautiful People"
by Bob Martin 
If, September, 1952

Notes:

__ Charles Beaumont’s short story “The Beautiful People” was first published in the September 1952 issue of If. It appeared in his second story collection, Yonder (Bantam Books) in 1958.
__Richard Long also appeared in the season three episode “Person or Persons Unknown.”
__Suzy Parker appeared in the premiere episode of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery in the segment “The Housekeeper.”
__Abner Biberman also directed the season three episode “The Dummy,” the season four episode “The Incredible World of Horace Ford,” and the season five episode “I Am the Night—Color Me Black.”
__Popular American metal band The Number Twelve Looks Like You take their name from this episode.
__ “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” was adapted into an episode of the Twilight Zone Radio Dramas (Falcon Picture Group, 2009) starring Bonnie Somerville and Charles Shaughessy. It was written by Dennis Etchison and directed by Carl Amari and Roger Wolski.

Brian

"Living Doll"

 

“Living Doll”
Season Five, Episode 126
Original Air Date: November 1, 1963 

Cast:
Erich Streator: Telly Savalas
Annabelle: Mary LaRoche
Christie: Tracy Stratford
Voice of Talky Tina: June Foray (uncredited) 

Crew:
Writer: Jerry Sohl (credited to co-plotter Charles Beaumont)
Director: Richard C. Sarafian
Producer: William Froug
Director of Photography: Robert Pittack
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Malcolm Brown
Film Editor: Richard Heermance
Set Decoration: Henry Grace and Robert R. Benton
Assistant Director: Charles Bonniwell, Jr.
Casting: Patricia Rose
Music: Bernard Herrmann
Sound: Franklin Milton
Mr. Serling’s Wardrobe: Eagle Clothes
Filmed at MGM Studios 

And Now, Mr. Serling:

“Next on Twilight Zone a show that might very aptly be called “The Living End,” and with comparable aptness is called “Living Doll.” It’s written by colleague and cohort Charles Beaumont, and stars Telly Savalas and co-stars Mary LaRoche. Mr. Beaumont supplies us with a little weirdy involving a man and a doll. It comes well recommended. Next time out, “Living Doll.” 

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:

“Talky Tina, the doll that does everything, a lifelike creation of plastic and springs and painted smile. To Erich Streator, she is a most unwelcome addition to his household. But without her, he’d never enter The Twilight Zone.”

Summary: 

            Annabelle and her young daughter Christie arrive home from shopping with their arms laden with packages. Annabelle instructs Christie to go directly upstairs to her bedroom when they go inside the house. As they arrive inside, Erich Streator, Annabelle’s husband and Christie’s stepfather, is seated at a desk in the living room. He stops them before Christie can go upstairs to ask what they purchased. Annabelle tells Erich it’s just a doll and Erich counters that Christie doesn’t need another doll. Reluctantly, Annabelle tells Christie to show “Daddy” her new doll.

            Christie places the large box on the coffee table and unwraps the strings that bind it. From the box she removes a pretty doll in a plaid dress with pigtails, ribbons and an impish grin. “She’s alive, Daddy,” Christie says, “and her name is Talky Tina.” Erich fumes at the thought of how much a doll like that must cost.

            Christie winds a key in back of the doll and Talky Tina’s head and arms move as she speaks in a child’s voice. “My name is Talky Tina and I love you very much.” Erich pushes Annabelle on the cost of the doll and Annabelle counters that it isn’t really the cost of the doll that bothers him. Erich derisively refers to the “Freudian” ideas of Christie’s doctor. Annabelle tells him that it isn’t the doctor’s fault that Christie feels rejected. This further angers Erich. When Christie turns the key to activate Talky Tina again, Erich yells at the girl to “shut that thing off!”

            Christie drops Talky Tina and dashes upstairs. Annabelle scolds Erich for speaking to the girl that way and follows her daughter upstairs. Left alone, Erich walks over and picks up the doll. He turns the key in back of the doll and is stunned when Talky Tina says: “My name is Talky Tina and I don’t think I like you.” Not believing what he’s just heard, Erich turns the key again. “My name is Talky Tina and I think I could even hate you.”

            Erich flings the doll away from him. Talky Tina crashes against the far wall and falls to the floor. Erich stares in disbelief as Talky Tina’s eyes slowly open and she speaks. “My name is Talky Tina and you’ll be sorry.”   

            Annabelle comes downstairs and looks at the doll lying on the floor. “I don’t like what it says,” Erich tells her. Annabelle picks up the doll. Erich takes it from her and attempts to demonstrate the strange things the doll says. He winds the key. “My name is Talky Tina and I love you very much.” Erich shoves the doll at Annabelle. “That’s not what it said a minute ago.”

            Annabelle confronts Erich about his anger toward Christie. Erich turns defensive, mocking Annabelle for suggesting that he is incapable of loving children because they can’t have children of their own. Annabelle denies this and suggests that he could love Christie if he’d only give himself a chance. Annabelle says that she knows Erich got the short end of a bargain when they married but that she and Christie will do anything to make him happy.

            Christie comes downstairs and tells Erich she’s sorry for making him angry. Erich relents and tells the girl it was all his fault. Annabelle gives Talky Tina to Christie and the girl turns the key in back of the doll as she returns upstairs. “My name is Talky Tina and I love you very much.”

            Later, at the dinner table, Talky Tina is seated next to Christie and the girl is pretending to feed the doll from her plate. Erich looks at the doll and Talky Tina winks at him. “I didn’t know your doll could wink,” he says to Christie. “Tina can’t wink, Daddy,” Christie responds. Annabelle says that Tina will be an ideal playmate for Christie, a statement which causes Erich to turn defensive again, insinuating that Annabelle is mocking him for being unable to produce a brother or sister for Christie, and that Annabelle bought the doll to remind Erich of his impotence.

            The doorbell rings. It’s Christie’s friend Linda. Christie goes out to play, leaving Talky Tina at the dinner table. Erich is left alone with the doll as Annabelle carries the dinner dishes into the kitchen. Talky Tina activates as Erich sits next to her. “My name is Talky Tina and I’m beginning to hate you.” Erich chuckles as he says to the doll: “My name is Erich Streator and I’m gonna get rid of you.”

            Talky Tina informs Erich that he wouldn’t dare get rid of her because Annabelle and Christie would hate him, and she, the doll, would hate him. Erich places the doll on the table in front of him and removes a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Annabelle reenters the room and Erich explains that he’s seeing how the doll works. When Annabelle leaves again, Erich strikes a match and dabs the flame to the doll’s nose before lighting his cigarette. When the doll lets out a small cry, Erich asks if it has feelings. “Doesn’t everything?” responds Talky Tina. “Then I can hurt you,” Eric says. “Not really,” the doll responds, “but I could hurt you.”

            “Threats from a doll,” Erich says in disbelief, chuckling uneasily. Annabelle reenters the room. Erich pushes the doll across the table and stabs out his cigarette. He tells Annabelle the game is over. Annabelle doesn’t know what he is talking about. Erich believes Annabelle and Christie are playing a trick on him, using a walkie-talkie to make Talky Tina say threatening things. Christie returns briefly to collect Talky Tina to show the doll to her friend.

            Annabelle denies playing any tricks but Erich won’t let go of the idea, convinced she and Christie are using microphones to affect the speech of the doll. Erich asks why the doll doesn’t speak when Annabelle is in the room. Annabelle is stunned as she realizes that Erich is serious. Erich storms out of the room, telling Annabelle that she’ll be sorry for playing games and keeping secrets.

            Erich enters the garage calling for Christie where instead he finds Talky Tina alone. The doll looks at him, seeming to be alive. Erich picks up the doll and opens the lid to the trash can. “You are going be sorry,” says the doll as Erich drops Talky Tina into the trash can and replaces the lid.

            Later that evening, Annabelle and Christie search for the doll. Erich denies any knowledge of its whereabouts. Mother and daughter go upstairs to continue their search. The telephone rings. Erich picks up the receiver and hears the doll’s voice on the other end. “My name is Talky Tina and I’m going to kill you!”

            The line goes dead as Erich says “Hello?” and “Annabelle?” into the receiver. He returns to the garage and removes the lid of the trash can. The doll is no longer inside. Erich storms back into the house, calling for Annabelle. “Where is she?” he demands, still convinced a trick is being played on him. Erich admits to throwing the doll in the trash can and Annabelle is horrified by his behavior. She swears to Erich that she is not playing a trick on him. It dawns on Erich that it couldn’t have been Annabelle on the phone. He begins to consider the horrifying possibility that the doll really is alive and trying to harm him, but he clings to the notion that Christie is the one playing a trick on him. He finds the girl asleep upstairs with the doll next to her in bed.

            As Erich approaches the bed, Talky Tina’s eyes open as she says: “I told you you’d be sorry.” When Erich reaches for the doll, Talky Tina says: “Christie, Christie, wake up, Christie.” The girl awakens and Erich wrestles the doll from her, leaving the girl in tears. “Daddy! Daddy!” cries Christie. “I’m not your Daddy!” Eric spitefully tells her as he leaves the room with the doll.

            Erich carries Talky Tina to the garage. He places the doll in a vice and tightens it on the doll’s head. “Die!” he whispers to the doll. “You’ll die,” the doll responds, giggling. Erich tries to burn the doll with a blowtorch but the flame extinguishes each time he brings it near the doll. He removes the doll from the vice and places it before an electric saw. He runs the saw against the doll’s neck but cannot make a mark on the doll.

            Annabelle catches him in this insane act and tells him to stop this behavior. Erich angrily pushes her away. As a last, desperate attempt to be rid of the doll, Erich shoves Talky Tina into a burlap sack and binds it with rope. He drops the doll into a trash can and stacks bricks on top of the lid.

            Erich finds Annabelle packing suitcases upstairs. Annabelle tells him that he’s become a stranger to her, a sick, neurotic stranger, and that he needs to see a doctor. “Tell him you tried to kill a doll.” Erich sits on the edge of the bed and says he’ll give the doll back to Christie if it will make Annabelle change her mind.

            He returns to the garage and removes the sack from the trash can. As he pulls the doll from the sack, Talky Tina says: “My name is Talky Tina and I don’t forgive you.” Erich pleads with the doll to shut up. He carries the doll back inside the house and gives it to Christie.

            Later that night, Erich is awakened in bed by the sound of Talky Tina’s whirring mechanism. He slowly gets out of bed to investigate. Annabelle wakes up but Erich tells her to stay there. He first looks into Christie’s room. The girl is asleep but the doll is not in bed with her. Erich looks around the room but cannot find the doll. He hears the whirring mechanism of the doll in the hallway. He walks to the edge of the stairs, listening. Erich takes two steps down the stairs when his foot comes down on the body of the doll, sending him tumbling violently down the length of the stairs.

            Talky Tina tumbles down the stairs and lands next to him. The doll is the last thing Erich sees before he dies. Annabelle appears at the top of the stairs, calling out Erich’s name. She rushes down the stairs to check on him, finding him dead. Her hand picks up the doll next to his body. Talky Tina’s eyes slowly open as she says: “My name is Talky Tina . . . and you’d better be nice to me.” Annabelle drops the doll in horror.

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:

Of course, we all know dolls can’t really talk, and they certainly can’t commit murder. But to a child caught in the middle of turmoil and conflict, a doll can become many things: friend, defender, guardian. Especially a doll like Talky Tina, who did talk and did commit murder – in the misty region of The Twilight Zone.” 

Commentary: 

I. Ghostwriting: Charles Beaumont and Jerry Sohl 

Jerry Sohl in 1973

            In 1977, when author Marc Scott Zicree began work on The Twilight Zone Companion (published in 1982), he contacted surviving members of the series (actors, writers, directors, producers) for interviews. When Zicree interviewed George Clayton Johnson, the writer of such memorable episodes as “Nothing in the Dark,” “A Game of Pool,” and “Kick the Can,” Johnson suggested Zicree interview Jerry Sohl, whom Johnson said would have an interesting story to tell about The Twilight Zone. Zicree knew Jerry Sohl (1913-2002) from Sohl’s science fiction novels Costigan’s Needle (1953) and Point Ultimate (1955), as well as from Sohl’s scripts for Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Outer Limits, and Star Trek. But Zicree could not connect Sohl with The Twilight Zone. There was a simple reason for this.

            Jerry Sohl never received a writing credit on The Twilight Zone, although, as he revealed to Zicree, he wrote three teleplays that were produced on the series, including “Living Doll.” The reason Sohl did not receive credit on the series was that he ghostwrote the teleplays for his friend Charles Beaumont, who received on-screen credit for the episodes. 

Charles Beaumont in 1960

Charles Beaumont (1929-1967) was second only to series creator Rod Serling in the production of scripts for The Twilight Zone, writing such memorable episodes as “Perchance to Dream,” “Long Live Walter Jameson,” “The Howling Man,” “Miniature,” and many more. Beaumont was not averse to collaboration during his writing career, writing a collaborative novel under a pseudonym with John Tomerlin (Run from the Hunter by Keith Grantland) as well as many collaborative teleplays and articles, some of which were solely credited to Beaumont. The numerous articles Beaumont wrote for Playboy magazine, for example, collected in Remember? Remember? (1963), were often partially or entirely written by others. As Beaumont’s biographer Roger Anker wrote, “Beaumont was always full of a thousand ideas and a thousand projects, and approached them all with fantastic energy.” However, Beaumont was “often so busy he would enlist the help of his friends to complete the assignments.”

These friends included such writers as William F. Nolan, John Tomerlin, OCee Ritch, George Clayton Johnson, William Idelson, Ray Russell, and Jerry Sohl. The typical arrangement was that Beaumont would acquire the assignment through his connections in publishing, film, and television, work with the other writer on a basic plot or outline, and then split the money fifty-fifty after the finished work was turned in. Sometimes Beaumont and the other writer worked collaboratively on the script or article, while other times the other writer solely composed the work based on Beaumont’s story, idea, or outline. There are several examples of this on The Twilight Zone, including “The Prime Mover,” “Long Distance Call,” “Dead Man’s Shoes,” and “Number Twelve Looks Just Like You,” episodes which credited Beaumont in collaboration with another writer. Then there are the three episodes written by Jerry Sohl, which solely credit Beaumont.  

Jerry Sohl was initially reluctant to reveal his role on The Twilight Zone to Marc Scott Zicree (the ghostwriting was a violation of Writers Guild rules) but eventually related his involvement with the series and the method of his collaborations with Charles Beaumont. Beaumont and Sohl would typically meet on a Sunday in a coffee shop or restaurant. The two writers would then verbally work out the plot for an episode from Beaumont’s initial idea. Once the story was established, Beaumont would pitch the idea to producers on the series, sometimes with a written outline. If the pitch was accepted, Sohl would write the script and Beaumont would turn it in. Beaumont, as the contracted writer on the series, was responsible for revisions to the script during production. Of the three episodes written by Sohl, the others being “The New Exhibit,” from the fourth season, and the later fifth season episode “Queen of the Nile,” “Living Doll” saw the most changes from script to screen, making the episode perhaps the most purely collaborative of the three. More on this in a moment.

 Beaumont initially used ghostwriters or uncredited collaborators as a means to complete the large number of assignments for which he’d been contracted. As writer William F. Nolan related to Marc Scott Zicree: “He’d have like five different TV scripts, a movie script that he’s supposed to be working on – and each one, the producers thought Beaumont was working on exclusively. But meanwhile, he’d have OCee Ritch holed up in one part of the city writing a draft of one, he’d have Jerry Sohl holed up writing a draft of another, John Tomerlin would be writing a draft of a third, I’d be polishing a magazine article for him, he’d be trying to get the movie written, Ray Russell would be working with him on a Roger Corman project, and he’d just be running and running, making different appointments.”

By the middle of 1963, however, Beaumont’s need for ghostwriters was due to a different, and more tragic, reason. Beaumont began exhibiting the symptoms (advanced aging, memory loss, speech impairment, rapid physical decline) of the early-onset Dementia that would ultimately take his life on February 21, 1967. Beaumont was only thirty-eight years old at the time of his death. The true nature of the disease that took Beaumont’s life has not been firmly established. At the time of his diagnosis by doctors at UCLA in 1964, it was believed to be either Alzheimer’s or Pick’s Disease. Some of Beaumont’s friends, however, believed the writer may have fallen victim to Bromide poisoning, due to the large amounts of Bromo-Seltzer Beaumont ingested to battle chronic headaches.

During production on the fifth season of The Twilight Zone, Beaumont was, for a time, still able to meet with producers and pitch ideas for the series, though his ability to write scripts rapidly diminished. Jerry Sohl wrote scripts for the series, without receiving credit or the benefits that came along with credit, as a means of helping the Beaumont family, which included four young children, during Charles Beaumont’s growing health crisis. Although Sohl later told Marc Scott Zicree it was foolish on his part to write the scripts without receiving credit, he also acknowledged that it ultimately freed him from having to deal with producers or directors, allowing him to simply write.

Beaumont had a close circle of friends who were shocked, saddened, and angered by the diagnosis of an incurable, terminal disease for the talented writer. Although his friends and family were helpless to stop the effects of the disease, efforts were made to assist the Beaumont family during Charles Beaumont’s decline, including the publication of the aforementioned Remember? Remember? as well as a collection of Beaumont’s best stories, The Magic Man and Other Science-Fantasy Stories, published in 1964 by Fawcett Crest with a foreword by Ray Bradbury and an afterword by Richard Matheson. John Tomerlin also wrote the fifth season Twilight Zone episode, “Number Twelve Looks Just Like You,” based on Beaumont’s 1952 story “The Beautiful People,” sharing credit for the script with Beaumont.   

The final script written entirely by Beaumont for The Twilight Zone was the fourth season’s “Passage on the Lady Anne,” based on his story “Song for a Lady” from his 1960 collection Night Ride and Other Journeys. Another Beaumont script, “Gentlemen, Be Seated,” based on his story from the April, 1960 issue of Rogue, was slated for production during the fifth season but went unproduced on the series. The same fate befell two scripts by Jerry Sohl, “Who Am I?” and “Pattern for Doomsday,” scripts which would have properly credited Sohl on the series. All three of these scripts have been published. “Gentlemen, Be Seated” appeared in The Twilight Zone Scripts of Charles Beaumont, Volume One, edited by Roger Anker (Gauntlet Press, 2004), while Sohl’s unproduced scripts appeared in Filet of Sohl, edited by Christopher Conlon (BearManor Media, 2003). Charles Beaumont’s original outline for “Pattern for Doomsday” was published in Forgotten Gems from the Twilight Zone, Volume 1, edited by Andrew Ramage (BearManor Media, 2005). 

Since the publication of The Twilight Zone Companion, Jerry Sohl has been acknowledged numerous times for his contributions as writer on the series. Furthermore, Sohl is now recognized as the author of one of the most memorable episodes of the entire series, as “Living Doll” is regularly placed near the top of any poll of the best episodes and is used prominently in marketing the series. Sohl gave several interviews in the latter portion of his life in which he discussed his role on the series, resulting in Sohl now being firmly established as the writer of “The New Exhibit,” “Living Doll,” and “Queen of the Nile.” This latter episode, which also aired during the fifth season, was, despite its similarities to Beaumont’s first season episode “Long Live Walter Jameson,” the only one of the three episodes written by Sohl under Beaumont’s name based entirely on Sohl’s idea, which was inspired by a scarab ring that had been gifted to Sohl. 

Final validation for Jerry Sohl’s contributions to the series came twofold upon the writer’s passing on November 4, 2002. The Los Angeles Times noted in their obituary Sohl’s work on such television series as Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Star Trek, The Outer Limits, Route 66, Naked City, and The Twilight Zone. More importantly, The Twilight Zone Scripts of Jerry Sohl, edited by Christopher Conlon, appeared in 2004, finally collecting Sohl’s scripts for the series under his name. 

II. Creating “Living Doll”

            Few television series respected the work of the writer to the degree of The Twilight Zone. Rod Serling, perhaps the greatest television writer in the history of the medium, created the series largely for the purpose of writing teleplays free from meddling censors. Serling fought to ensure that the writers he brought to the series received the same level of respect for their work. Even so, it was rare for an episode to be filmed exactly as written, as elements such as production limitations often required revisions to the teleplay. Occasionally, the dramatic structure of the teleplay was altered to achieve a desired effect of character, narrative, or staging, as in “Long Distance Call” or “A Game of Pool.” 

Cover art by David Christiana

Although the structure of the story remained intact, “Living Doll” saw a number of changes, some small, some significant, from Jerry Sohl’s original teleplay. Although there is no way of knowing for certain, especially considering the state of Charles Beaumont’s health at the time, it is reasonable to assume that Beaumont, as the contracted writer, performed the revisions to “Living Doll.” Let’s look at alterations to the script in its transition to the screen.

            The most significant alteration is that Erich Streator is Christie’s father in the original teleplay. The character was changed to Christie’s stepfather in the episode. This change was likely made to further distance the character from the sympathies of the audience. Many viewers see Erich as an ogre, undeserving of any sympathy in his plight. Radio host George Noory, who contributed a commentary for the episode alongside Marc Scott Zicree, several times refers to Erich Streator as “evil,” giving some indication of the average response to the character. In the original teleplay, Erich is certainly unpleasant at times, but he is less the unloving bully presented in the episode.

This change required the addition of a significant amount of dialogue, which in turn required the removal of incidents in the original script. These cuts resulted in an occasional rough transition in the episode, as we will see in a moment.

            To achieve the change from father to stepfather, dialogue concerning the “Freudian gibberish” of Christie’s doctor was added, as was Annabelle’s response that Christie feels rejected. Later, a significant scene was added in which Annabelle tells Erich she can no longer tolerate his anger toward Christie. She pleads with Erich to accept Christie and to try and find it in his heart to love her. Also added was the shocking moment late in the episode when Erich spitefully tells Christie: “I’m not your Daddy!” Dialogue was also added when Annabelle is packing suitcases in which she tells Erich that she can’t let him treat her daughter this way.

            Scenes from the original teleplay that were excised to accommodate this new material include a scene after Erich throws Talky Tina against the wall in which Christie comes back into the room and Erich reluctantly hands the doll to the girl. There is also a scene later in the story in which Erich offers to buy a different doll for Christie.

A more significant excised scene involved Christie and her friend Linda, the latter of whom has a speaking role in the original teleplay. After the scene at the dinner table, Erich finds the girls outside in front of the house, playing with Talky Tina. Erich gives the girls money for the ice cream van down the street but instructs Christie to leave the doll behind. After the girls set off for ice cream, Erich takes the doll to the garage, where he throws the doll in the trash. This scene makes the later statement made by Christie when looking for the doll, “You had her, Daddy,” make sense.

            In the dinner scene in the episode, after Christie returns to retrieve Talky Tina and takes the doll outside, Erich argues with Annabelle for a moment and then walks to the garage. There he finds Talky Tina alone, only minutes after Christie took the doll, compressing the pace of the transition.

Despite such changes removing, or altering, the narrative bridges in Sohl’s original teleplay, changes apparent only on comparison between the original teleplay and the finished episode, it offers a view of the construction of one of the finest episodes of the series, from verbal development to outline to script to finished episode. Furthermore, the fantasy is so brilliantly developed in the episode, so concisely staged and effectively performed, that the viewer hardly notices any compression of narrative. We’re simply drawn effortlessly along as events unfold, believing every moment in this man’s battle with a toy doll. Such is a major part of the enduring appeal of the series, this naturalistic staging of the fantastic intruding upon everyday life.

            Additional, less significant changes were also made. These include the moment in the episode at the dinner table when Talky Tina winks at Erich. In the original teleplay, the doll’s staring eyes disturb Erich and he asks Christie to close them. Later in the same scene, Erich dabs the flame from a match on the nose of the doll. In the original teleplay, Erich twists the doll’s leg to get a reaction. Changes were also made concerning Erich’s efforts to destroy the doll. In the original teleplay, Erich places the doll in a broiler and attempts to light the doll’s clothes on fire with matches. When this doesn’t work (the doll’s clothes won’t catch fire), Erich attempts to cut off the doll’s head with a large cooking knife, again to no avail. This resulted in a small change to dialogue. In the episode, Annabelle tells Erich to see a doctor. “Tell him you tried to kill a doll,” she says. The original teleplay has this line as: “Tell him you burned a doll.” To which Erich gloomily responds: “I didn’t burn it.”

            Changes in the appearance of Talky Tina were also made for the episode. In the original teleplay, Talky Tina is larger and less attractive. Sohl writes: “She withdraws an ugly doll about half her size.” Erich’s line in the original teleplay, “For heaven’s sake, Annabelle, a doll that big -” is thus changed to: “For heaven’s sake, Annabelle, a doll like that would cost -”

            In the original teleplay, Talky Tina is equipped with a key that activates her head and arms as well as a pull-ring on the side of her neck which activates her speech function. In the episode, the key, when turned, activates both effects, since the voice of Talky Tina, provided by veteran voice actress June Foray (1917-2017), was added in post-production. Jerry Sohl likely had the popular Chatty Cathy doll from Mattel in mind when creating Talky Tina, thus the alliterative name and the presence of a pull-ring to make the doll speak, both features of Chatty Cathy.

Chatty Cathy was developed by Ruth Handler (1916-2002) at Mattel in 1959 and introduced the following year as the first mass market doll that spoke. Handler, who founded Mattel with her husband Elliot in 1945, is remembered as the creator of the Barbie doll. Chatty Cathy was created to offer a larger, younger doll in contrast to the small, adult Barbie. Chatty Cathy spoke eleven phrases via an innovative sound system designed by Mattel employee Jack Ryan. Furthermore, the voice of Chatty Cathy was provided by the aforementioned June Foray, which may have led to Foray being hired to voice Talky Tina for “Living Doll.” Either way, Foray does a wonderful job capturing both the initial sweetness and growing malevolence of Talky Tina. “Living Doll” remains, despite Foray having voiced numerous cartoon characters, including Rocky the Flying Squirrel and several characters for Warner Brothers, one of her signature performances. Foray, who passed away in 2017, also contributed voice work to the final episode of The Twilight Zone, “The Bewitchin’ Pool.” 

via WorthPoint

The doll licensed for use in the episode, however, was not Chatty Cathy but rather Brikette from the Vogue Doll Company (pictured), a doll introduced in 1959 as a companion to the company’s popular Ginny doll. Brikette, “the red-headed doll with the impish grin,” was not a talking doll, and brunette and platinum versions of the doll were also offered. It is likely that many families viewing “Living Doll” on its initial broadcast, or soon afterwards, were familiar with a doll like Talky Tina from the dolls in their own homes.  

            The production crew, including prolific director and occasional actor Richard Sarafian (1930-2013), in his only credit on the series, and cinematographer Robert Pittack (1899-1976), did an outstanding job of giving life to Talky Tina, aided by Foray’s performance and the doll’s impish grin and expressive eyes, which were wonderfully manipulated along with the doll’s head and arms to give the doll a semblance of life. This is particularly effective in the final scene, aided by a rare but expert use of slow-motion, where Talky Tina warns Annabelle after the death of Erich. This scene also functions to dispel the notion that the events could be interpreted as having taken place in Erich’s mind. With this powerful final scene, Jerry Sohl avoided the ambiguity that marred the denouement of his earlier episode, “The New Exhibit.” 

A viewer who wishes to own Talky Tina could purchase an original Brikette doll or a talking replica, offered in color (pictured) and black and white, released in 2013 by the toy company Bif Bang Pow!

Talky Tina may be the star attraction but she is supported by a small but strong cast in a closely contained episode. Telly Savalas (1922-1994) is familiar to most television viewers of a certain age from his Emmy Award-winning role in the series Kojak (1973-1978), spun off from the television film The Marcus-Nelson Murders (1973). Savalas returned to the role of the lollipop-loving Lt. Theo Kojak after the series ended for a series of television films. Savalas, a WWII veteran and Peabody Award-winning radio host, landed in television in 1959 during a chance audition for the CBS anthology series Armstrong Circle Theatre. Savalas is remembered for his bald appearance and commanding presence and for his roles as tough guys, if not outright sinister characters like Erich Streator in “Living Doll.” Some of Savalas’s most memorable work came alongside Burt Lancaster in the John Frankenheimer films The Young Savages (1961) and Birdman of Alcatraz (1962), the latter of which earned the actor an Academy Award nomination. Savalas is also remembered for roles in such films as Cape Fear (1962), The Dirty Dozen (1967), On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970). 

Telly Savalas

Savalas’s career on the small screen included appearances on The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Kraft Suspense Theatre, and Tales of the Unexpected, among many others. Savalas appeared on the second season of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour in “A Matter of Murder,” directed by David Lowell Rich, a producer on the series, who also helmed the fourth season Twilight Zone episode “Of Late I Think of Cliffordville.” Savalas appeared in two episodes during the first season of Kraft Suspense Theatre, appearing alongside such Twilight Zone performers as Jack Warden, Oscar Beregi, Jr., Ed Kemmer, and Paul Comi. Savalas was directed on the series by Sydney Pollack, who appeared on The Twilight Zone as the gruff theater director Arthur Willis in “The Trouble with Templeton,” and an uncredited Leslie Stevens, creator of The Outer Limits. In 1981, Savalas appeared on the fourth series of Roald Dahl’s anthology series Tales of the Unexpected in the episode “Completely Foolproof,” based on a story by Robert Arthur from the March, 1958 issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Arthur’s story was previously adapted for the third season of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour and featured Twilight Zone actress Patricia Barry. 

Mary LaRoche

Savalas is supported in “Living Doll” by two familiar faces on The Twilight Zone, Mary LaRoche and Tracy Stratford. Mary LaRoche (1920-1999), alternately billed as Mary La Roche, is remembered for her roles as screen mother to young actresses Sandra Dee and Ann-Margret in the films Gidget (1959) and Bye Bye Birdie (1963), respectively. LaRoche previously appeared on The Twilight Zone in the final episode of the first season as Mary, the (second) perfect wife created by playwright Gregory West (Keenan Wynn) via dictation machine in Richard Matheson’s “A World of His Own.” LaRoche also appeared alongside Ray Milland and Virginia Gregg (Twilight Zone’s “Jess-Belle” and “The Masks”) on The Alfred Hitchcock Hour in “A Home Away from Home,” the opening episode of the second season scripted by Robert Bloch from his story published in the June, 1961 issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.

Tracy Stratford (b. 1955) was last seen on The Twilight Zone as Tina Miller, the “Little Girl Lost” in the excellent third season episode scripted by Richard Matheson. Stratford’s voice was dubbed by actress Rhoda Williams in “Little Girl Lost,” which slightly mars that episode, but the young actress is more than capable of using her own voice to elicit a great amount of sympathy for Christie in “Living Doll.”

The last, but certainly not least, element that contributes to the success of “Living Doll” is the original score by Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975). The spare and haunting woodwind and harp composition Herrmann provided for “Living Doll” is one of only eight original compositions Herrmann created for the series. Herrmann’s presence on the series is seemingly ubiquitous, however, due to the show’s frequent use of Herrmann’s contributions to the CBS music library. Herrmann composed a final original score for the series later in the fifth season for “Ninety Years Without Slumbering.” 

III. Night Gallery: “The Doll”

            The Twilight Zone explored the theme of dolls in such varied episodes as “The After Hours,” “Five Characters in Search of an Exit,” and “Miniature,” and presented stories in which characters figuratively assume the role of dolls in such episodes as “The Little People” and “Stopover in a Quiet Town.” “Living Doll,” with its tale of a vengeful guardian protecting a child from an abusive parent, is very different from the bittersweet or ironic treatments of the doll theme in other episodes of the series. More in-line with “Living Doll” is “The Doll,” the memorable first season segment from Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. 

Adapted by Rod Serling from the story by Algernon Blackwood, directed by Rudi Dorn, “The Doll” tells of Colonel Hymber Masters (John Williams), who returns to England after service in India to take guardianship of his orphaned niece, Monica (Jewel Blanch). A package containing a doll was delivered to the Colonel’s residence prior to the Colonel’s arrival. Although the doll is frightening in appearance, Monica refuses to part with the doll. Colonel Masters explains to Monica’s governess, Miss Danton (Shani Wallis), who believed the Colonel sent the doll as a present for his niece, that the doll was not sent by him nor was it meant for Monica but rather for him. He also explains that the doll is dangerous and that they must get the doll away from Monica without mentioning their intentions in the presence of the doll.

The Colonel buys a new doll for Monica but the other doll tears it to pieces. He attempts to get rid of the doll but it returns to Monica. Colonel Masters is visited by an Indian man named Pandit Chola (Henry Silva), an occultist who has sent the doll as vengeance for the death of his brother, who was executed under orders from Colonel Masters. The man tells the Colonel that the doll will never stop and will always return until its task is complete. “The doll has teeth,” Chola warns Colonel Masters before leaving, “and there is no medicine on earth to save you.”

Colonel Masters hears Monica crying upstairs in her bedroom moments later. With fireplace poker in hand, he rushes upstairs only to face the hideous doll at the top of the stairs. Miss Danton rushes to Monica’s bedroom to comfort the girl, who tearfully tells her governess that she’s seen the doll walk out of her bedroom. Miss Danton and Monica hear the Colonel cry out. Miss Danton finds him on the stairs with a bloody gash on his arm being tended to by a manservant. 

The Colonel instructs Miss Danton to pick up the doll where it lay on the stairs and take it to his study. In the study, Colonel Masters throws the doll into the fire in the grate. “Now it’s destructible,” he tells Miss Danton. “Now that it’s done its job.” Colonel Masters collapses into a chair, dying from his wound. He knew this day would come and he has prepared for it. He instructs Miss Danton to remove a sealed envelope from the top drawer of his dresser and to immediately deliver it to the Indian man to whom it is addressed. “Tell him the thing has happened.” The Colonel tells Miss Danton that he has a considerable life insurance policy and that he took the precaution of making a will which names her as executrix of his estate. He then asks Miss Danton to take care of Monica, to take the girl to some other place where there are other children. With this, Colonel Masters dies. 

Sometime later, Pandit Chola is in his lodgings hurriedly packing in order to make his escape. There is a knock at the door. It is a messenger with a package, a gift from Colonel Masters. Chola unwraps the package to find a doll in the image of Colonel Masters. The eyes of the doll open and it bares its teeth in a menacing grin. 

Cover art by Ronald Clyne

Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951) is one of the pillars of English supernatural fiction and the prolific author of such classic tales as “The Willows” (1907), “The Wendigo” (1910), the John Silence occult detective stories, and many, many others. “The Doll,” written late in Blackwood’s career, first appeared in The Doll and One Other, published by Arkham House in 1946. Arkham House publisher August Derleth reprinted the tale the following year in his anthology The Sleeping and the Dead: Thirty Uncanny Tales (published by Pellegrini & Cudahy). “The Doll” was collected in Blackwood’s Tales of the Uncanny and Supernatural, published by Peter Nevill in 1949. The story has been reprinted a number of times in anthologies of supernatural fiction, but its novelette length has prevented it from appearing as often as other Blackwood stories. 

John Williams

Despite a hurried and somewhat troubled production, “The Doll” remains one of the most effective and fondly remembered segments from Night Gallery. John Williams (1903-1983), playing the staunch colonial soldier Colonel Masters, is a familiar face on the small screen. He appeared on The Twilight Zone as William Shakespeare in Rod Serling’s fourth season farce “The Bard,” as well as in several episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Williams also appeared in such Hitchcock films as Dial M for Murder (1954) and To Catch a Thief (1955).

The memorably creepy doll in the segment is never seen committing an act, its movements kept hidden from the viewer, but it is effectively posed to give it a semblance of menacing intelligence. Once seen, the image of the doll is difficult to forget. The design and construction of the doll was the work of sculptor Chris Mueller (1906-1987), whose career in films included work on The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954), This Island Earth (1955), and Jaws 2 (1978). 

Rod Serling’s script required changes from Blackwood’s story, largely due to the time limitations of the segment and the novelette length of Blackwood’s tale. Serling changed the relationship between Colonel Masters and Monica from father-daughter to uncle-niece, and added details of Colonel Masters’s actions in India which brought about the doll’s vengeance (Blackwood leaves out these details). The character of Pandit Chola is also Serling’s creation, as it is a largely silent and unnamed man in Blackwood’s story, a character fleeting in appearance. Serling likely added Chola to create a speaking role for dramatic effect, and to achieve the epilogue to the segment. This twist ending, in which Colonel Masters sends a vengeful doll of his own, is also Serling’s addition to the tale. In Blackwood’s story, the doll bites Colonel Masters on the throat in Monica’s bedroom, almost like the bite of an insect. Masters casually throws the doll away from him and the doll is removed from the story by the hand of an unseen person through Monica’s bedroom window. Masters accepts his fate and dies quietly in his study.

Blackwood tells the story from the perspective of Monica’s Polish governess, Madame Jodzka, who shares the strange experiences concerning the doll with the cook and a maid before spurring Colonel Masters into action to protect Monica and thus seal his fate.

Blackwood’s tale has in common with many other tales of dolls in horror and fantasy fiction the element of magic, typically some form of witchcraft, as the engine which drives the machinations of the doll. Talky Tina is driven by no such engine, at least none that is revealed to the viewer. The final sequence of the episode dispels the notion that the actions of Talky Tina were the product of Erich Streator’s mind. Could it be that the doll is spurred by the rage and resentment in Streator’s character, like the machines that attack Bartlett Finchley in Rod Serling’s first season episode “A Thing About Machines,” or the household items that destroy the unfortunate protagonist of Richard Matheson’s story “Mad House” (1953)? There is no way of knowing, nor does the story need to reveal this to function as effectively as it does. It is, in part, this unnerving ambiguity which lends a timelessness to the episode, and has allowed the episode to remain highly memorable and effective even amid the wave of numerous imitators that have followed in its wake. I give it my highest recommendation. 

Grade: A+ 

See Also: "Jerry Sohl's Legacy in The Twilight Zone"

Next Month in the Vortex: We continue our episode guide with a look at “The Old Man in the Cave,” starring James Coburn and John Anderson, directed by Alan Crosland, Jr., and scripted by Rod Serling from a story by Henry Slesar. Thanks for reading! 

Acknowledgments:

-The Twilight Zone Companion (3^rd ed.) by Marc Scott Zicree (Silman-James, 2018)

-The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR, 2008)

-A Critical History of Television’s The Twilight Zone, 1959-1964 by Don Presnell and Marty McGee (McFarland & Co., 1998)

-Rod Serling’s Night Gallery: An After-Hours Tour by Scott Skelton and Jim Benson (Syracuse University Press, 1999)

-“Introduction: Jerry Sohl and The Twilight Zone” by Christopher Conlon (The Twilight Zone Scripts of Jerry Sohl, edited by Christopher Conlon (BearManor Media, 2004))

-“The Ghost in the Zone” by Marc Scott Zicree (Filet of Sohl, edited by Christopher Conlon (BearManor Media, 2003))

-Commentary on “Living Doll” by Gary Gerani (The Twilight Zone: The 5^th Dimension DVD Box Set, 2014)

-Commentary on “Living Doll” by Marc Scott Zicree and George Noory (The Twilight Zone: The 5^th Dimension Box Set, 2014)

-“Living Doll” (teleplay) by Jerry Sohl (as by Charles Beaumont) (Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone Magazine, December, 1982)

-“Remembering Charles Beaumont” by Roger Anker (Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone Magazine, June, 1989)

-Chatty Cathy Documentary (Mattel Creative Advertising Services, 1998)

-The Internet Speculative Fiction Database (isfdb.org)

-The Internet Movie Database (imdb.com) 

Notes:

--Jerry Sohl also wrote the teleplays (uncredited) for the fourth season episode, “The New Exhibit,” and the fifth season episode, “Queen of the Nile.”

--Mary LaRoche also appeared in the first season episode, “A World of His Own.”

--Tracy Stratford also appeared in the third season episode, “Little Girl Lost.”

--June Foray also provided uncredited voice work for the fifth season episode, “The Bewitchin’ Pool.”

--“Living Doll” was adapted as a Twilight Zone Radio Drama starring Tim Kazurinsky.

--The teleplay for “Living Doll” was first printed, as by Charles Beaumont, in the December, 1982 issue of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone Magazine. Editor T.E.D. Klein wrote: “Charles Beaumont (1929-1967) was one of the most formidable talents ever to write for The Twilight Zone, though in the work he produced toward the end of his life – as in this issue’s Living Doll – it’s important to acknowledge the significant contribution of fellow writer Jerry Sohl.” The teleplay for “Living Doll” was collected in The Twilight Zone Scripts of Jerry Sohl, edited by Christopher Conlon (BearManor Media, 2004).

--In The Work of Charles Beaumont: An Annotated Bibliography and Guide (Bibliographies of Modern Authors No. 6) by William F. Nolan (Borgo Press, 1986), Nolan provides this entry for "Living Doll": page 34, item E 30: "Living Doll," ghost-written by Jerry Sohl, produced for The Twilight Zone, first aired on November 1, 1963. Adapted from an unpublished story by Beaumont and Sohl. 

--A Shirley Temple doll that may be an homage to Talky Tina can be seen seated on a sofa in the queue at The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror in Walt Disney World.

--Those interested in additional reading on the topic of dolls in horror and fantasy fiction are directed to three anthologies: The Haunted Dolls, edited by Seon Manley and Gogo Lewis (Doubleday, 1980), which contains Algernon Blackwood’s “The Doll,” Doubles, Dummies and Dolls: 21 Terror Tales of Replication, edited by Leonard Wolf (Newmarket Press, 1995), and a recent selection of tales, Deadly Dolls: Haunting Tales of the Uncanny, edited by Elizabeth Dearnley (British Library, 2024), part of the British Library's Tales of the Weird publication series. Also of interest are Sigmund Freud's 1919 paper on The Uncanny (Das Unheimliche), centered on dolls and doppelgangers, and The Guide to Supernatural Fiction by E.F. Bleiler (Kent State University Press, 1983), which lists and describes dozens of novels and stories on the theme. 

--In an interesting connection within the subjects of this post, Ronald Clyne, the cover artist for Algernon Blackwood's The Doll and One Other (Arkham House, 1946), was a friend and collaborator of Charles Beaumont. Beaumont and Clyne grew up in Chicago and entered science fiction fandom as teenagers. Roger Anker, in his introduction to Charles Beaumont: Selected Stories (1988), describes Beaumont's relatively brief career as a pulp illustrator. Anker writes that, in the early 1940s, Beaumont's "interests then shifted from typewriter to drawing board and his illustrations began to appear in a number of pulp magazines under the brush name E.T. Beaumont. His first cartoon, done in collaboration with his friend and fellow artist, Ronald Clyne, appeared in Fantastic Adventures in October, 1943."  Ronald Clyne (1925-2006) provided the cover for Charles Beaumont's first collection of stories, The Hunger and Other Stories (1957) and for Beaumont's novel The Intruder (1959), as by Robert Clyne. Clyne contributed several cover illustrations for Arkham House in the 1940s, including for books by J. Sheridan LeFanu, H.P. Lovecraft, H. Russell Wakefield, Robert Bloch, A.E. Coppard, Henry S. Whitehead, Carl Jacobi, Fritz Leiber, and Arkham House publisher August Derleth. Clyne also provided covers for The Arkham Sampler and Weird Tales, and continued working for Arkham House (and other fantasy and SF publishers) into the early 1970s. 

-JP