Written by Bob Bassett:

In March of 1963, less than 3 months after it began operation, WTEV-6 inaugurated its first locally produced program other than the nightly newscasts. Program Director Mann Reed, who had a penchant for one-word titles for shows, named it "Community". It was created as a half-hour Monday through Friday program directed primarily to public service topics. guests for the most part, would be people within the Channel 6 viewing area speaking on various town and city projects, accomplishments, goals, etc.

Two weeks before its debut, I was called in to Reed's office and informed that I was to be the "temporary" host until they could find someone who would be able to devote all of his or her time to the show.

Seventeen years and some four thousand programs later, I was still hosting "Community" and still the "temporary" interviewer. I was never told that the program was officially mine to do.

"Community" aired at different times during its existence. Its latest time (and my personal favorite) was 1:30pm. The earliest (and the time slot I hated) was 6 to 6:30 in the morning! How many people can sit down and watch television at that ungodly hour? The counter argument was that the show could be listened to instead of being watched steady for a half hour since it was basically a talk show. Other times of broadcast were 10, 10:30, 8 and 8:30am.

The basic format of "Community" usually consisted of two 15 minute segments separated by a 30 second public service announcement. The program never had a sponsor. On occasion, it would be divided into thirds and on rare instances, even quarters; the latter making it near impossible to begin any type of sensible in-depth conversation with just seven minutes allotted. Later, when the program was shortened by five minutes to allow for a brief newscast, the segments of course became even shorter in content. I even remember one show that had a ridiculous five segments schedule - it was "Hello and Goodbye!" Luckily, as the reader will discover in what follows, "Community" was never, except on very infrequent dates, televised "live". It was always taped, usually 3 to 5 days in advance. The engineer would stop the tape between segments allowing time for the next group of guests to be seated.

Over the years, no less than six different sets were used ranging from the spartan to the elaborate. In the very beginning, the set consisted of plain lawn-type chairs with a bland backdrop. The show's opening would be in silhouette and the lights brought up when I was introduced. In the last years, the set was comfortable and had a warm, rather rich appearance on the screen. It had a sofa, a large chair for me, a coffee table, carpet, sectional corner table, and a raised platform behind us with drapes and an imitation wrought iron railing. Small paintings, artificial flowers and other decorations were added from time to time. The only ugly and even tasteless prop was a 2 foot-high plaster statue of the Venus De Milo, which I "inherited" from the "Woman" program (more later). the Venue was on the corner table and it garnered laughs and incredulous stares from most guests. ONe day I had a program with a little theatre group which was looking for props for its warehouse and without a moment's hesitation, I gladly gave them Venus. The next day, when I came to work, the shit had hit the fan! Andy Nechesnoff, the Production Manager and a former Director, demanded that I call the theatre group and have them return the sickening statue! I could understand all this if it was something of value, but this pathetic attempt at are wouldn't have brought 50 cents at a yard sale. I later learned that someone had told Andy about my "gift" to the group, so he was simply following orders. A tempest in a teapot.

A week's taping of the five "Community" programs would be accomplished usually in two days. We'd tape a pair Tuesday afternoon, two more Tuesday night, and a single show on Monday evening. Sometimes if an important topic or guest could only be available at a specific time, we would tape on irregular schedules and place the show "in the can". This often applied to celebrities who might be in town for only a matter of hours.

As a matter of procedure, I would meet with the guests about 1/2 to 1 hour before the taping time. The briefing would take place in the tiny lobby of the station which at times created havoc when we would have two or three different groups all arriving at the same time, and some with animals or cumbersome articles to display.

Although "Community" had a coordinator who did little more than schedule guests and taping dates, little more was given to me in regard to subject research, guest backgrounds, etc. I did all this in addition to compiling proper questions. Except for the occasional complicated program (marching units, dance troupes and the like) there were never rehearsals. For one thing, time didn't permit it. We were always conscious of the newscasts which followed our tapings.

Every director who worked at 6 had a crack at doing the "Community" show. It was a fairly easy program to present; after all, how may difficult shots are there in a conversational-type setting? True, there were many shows that required the full studio such as bands, dancers, drum and bugle corps, tumbling acts and others. Also, there were monthly cooking features complete with a full-scale kitchen set and overhead camera shots. The crews looked forward to programs of this type because it gave them opportunities to improvise and use there imaginations. One of the most creative directors was Bill Grammas when he put his mind to it. We never knew what type of mood Bill would be in from week to week, but when it was a creative one, there wasn't a better man to work with on the show. Others where were above average and could anticipate my next question or physical action were Dave Hill, John Mason, Guy Pepper and the late Dave Langevin. Overall, "Community" was an ideal vehicle for a person new at directing. To hone their skill, it was a perfect training ground.

Edith Quaglin was just one of several manufacturer representatives who were guests on the "Community" program. They normally appeared on behalf of a product that was currently being advertised on WTEV, or soon to be. Oftentimes the show served as an introduction of the product to the viewers. Edith was a delight; fiftyish, knowledgeable and possessor of a bubbling personality. She usually came on the program two or three times a year. Working out of New York, she would fly into Green Airport in Warwick, rent a car, and drive to New Bedford to tape the show, then fly back to New York.

At the time, Edith was promoting a new, improved Clorox detergent, with special emphasis on the shape of the news plastic container. The overlying purpose of her trip was to instruct the parents watching, especially the mothers, how they could make animals from the empty containers, with just a few embellishments. Edith was to make a bunny rabbit on the program and, if time permitted, an elephant. We started taping the 25 minute program at around 3:30, allowing ample time for the live newscast, which at this point was scheduled at 5pm. Edit was superb, making a wonderful bunny and an elephant out of Clorox bottles. As she was packing the trunk to her car with her materials, an engineer came rushing up to me yelling "Don't let her leave!" The video engineer had discovered that there was a problem with the videotape that would make it unsuitable for broadcast. I ran to the parking lot and told the bad news to a tired Edith Quaglin. We now had a time problem: by the time she had re-assembled all her implements on the "Community" set, the most we could offer her was 15 minutes, because of the impending newscast. She hastily made just a bunny, and with very little of her natural cheerfulness. Again, she packed up and went to her car. Again, the same engineer came frantically running up to me, screaming: "Don't let her go! We have no audio!" I was now afraid to approach Edith, but had no choice. According to the director Bill Grammas, we had just FIVE minutes to give Edith! She was, to put it mildly, royally pissed off and rightly so. Glaring at me, she shouted: "I have a plane to catch, for Chrissakes!". She stomped back into the studio, slapped together her empty Clorox container into a pathetic rabbit shape, and bellowed into the camera: "There's your bunny, YOU MOTHERS!" Naturally, that little five minute segment was perfect in both video and audio. I never knew whether a livid Edith Quaglin ever make her airplane connection. I was afraid to even ask - it was bad enough just thinking how all of us had destroyed her journey. I also have no knowledge how it might have affected our account with the Clorox company. A twenty-five minute presentation had dissolved into a pathetic five minute catastrophe.

That was the last time Edith Quaglin appeared on "Community" , and sadly, it was a disaster. I never saw or heard from this personable lady again.

Over the course of its 17-year run, "Community" presented many programs that featured numerous members of God's animal kingdom. With the exception of untamed beasts of the wild, nearly every other creature was represented. The usual dog obedience trials were quite popular as were many shows highlighting countless breeds of cats - my favorite animal. We had programs with insects, snakes, horses, fish, ducks, turkeys and even cows. A sea lion nearly took my hand off when I tried to stroke its pelt.

Despite having a lifelong fear of birds (with the exception of pigeons and seagulls), we had many shows displaying them. My fearful experience with birds goes back to when I was 3 years of age and the next door neighbors' teenage sons threw me into their hen yard and locked the gate. Hen yards attract sparrows and the like, and to this day I can vividly recall all these birds flying all over my body.

One "Community" I'll never forget had among the guests a magician who was seated right next to me. Naturally, he had no way of knowing of my "thing" with birds. Suddenly, he reached into his top hat and instead of pulling out a rabbit, he flung his dove at me! I know birds are docile and a symbol of peace, but it might as well have been a giant bald eagle!


What follows are two particular animal "Community" adventures that will forever remain carved into my memory:

THE HEIFER AND THE GREYHOUND
One year, the Episcopal diocese of Rhode Island had in many of its parishes a project wherein young members of the congregation would "adopt" an animal almost from birth and raise it until it was able to be sent as a gift to a Third World nation for the betterment of the people. I learned that a future program would have this as a topic.

The evening of the taping, I greeted a young Episcopalian minister and two preteen members of the church who had spent months caring for a heifer, and they brought the animal along for the program! The crew scurried about and were finally able to locate some straw and a stack of newspapers that they shredded and used as a mat to prevent the heifer from slipping and sliding on the studio's tile floor. We had decided not to use a rug because of a possible "accident" but we were assured by the good minister that the animal was very tame and well behaved. And indeed she was, until the last minute of the 25 minute show. Now picture this - the minister and the two children seated on the sofa to my left, and the heifer directly in front of me, facing toward the cameras, which meant of course, that the heifer's ass was right in my face! With a minute left on the program, I suddenly heard a very audible "phaa-whoosh" and it was right in my eyes! To myself I said "Please, little girl, keep the farts to yourself and hold off for the next 50 seconds..." Then, with 30 seconds remaining, another "Phaa-whoosh" only louder and much more potent. During these mini-explosions, the minister and the children were stone silent and looking vacantly into space. "Hold on, heifer, hold on. Don't let it go now!" Then, with only 15 seconds left, the animal let it all go, and I mean all! With a fiendish glee, cameraman Tom French zoomed in for a closeup of this huge pile of heifer dung. Can you imagine if the show was live, and a viewer turned on the television set at this precise moment and a mammoth lump of shit was the first image on the screen!!! Normally, after a "Community" taping, the crew stayed around to strike the set..., not not this show - they left the studio as if there was a 5-alarm fire. Since the show was recorded, the "accident" never got on the air, but in retrospect, it would have been fun it it had.

There were two greyhound racing dog tracks in the Channel 6 viewing area, the Taunton Dog Oval and Raynham Park. Each spent a large amount of its advertising dollar with us, and we in turn would give them an entire "Community" show to promote their upcoming events. This unforgettable program had as guests: Frank Fallon, the promotion manager for Raynham and an old friend from this earlier days as one of Boston's foremost sportscasters; Ted Lippold, a very obese gentleman who was one of the nation's leading greyhound trainers, and a greyhound dog who stood like a statue in front of Ted throughout the entire program.

Fallon was to my left, and Lippold to my right sitting on the sofa. The period of "Community" shows had a set where all the furniture was on a foot-high riser, primarily for better camera shots. Behind the sofa was the imitation wrought iron railing that was actually made of soft wood, but it gave the set a rich appearance. Midway through the program, a horrid stench enveloped the set. I looked at Fallon, he looked a Lippold, and Lippold looked at me! Who was the culprit that laid down this gigantic fart? Each of us shook our heads. Not me, it must by you!

A few minutes later, an even worse "bomb" came forth, and folks, this was a blockbuster, Like a purple-black funky cloud that swirled around our heads! Trying to conduct an interview when everyone is afraid to open their mouths or take a breath is difficult to say the least. By this time, we all realized that the greyhound was emitting the smokescreen. It continued without abatement for the rest of the show. One of the really bad odors of all time!

When the program finally ended, all of us couldn't wait to get off the set and out of the studio. Lippold and all 300 pounds of him attempted to get up from the sofa, and using the furniture as a "lift", he proceeded to fall backwards, taking the sofa and "wrought iron" railing with him! The last thing the viewer saw was his ass doing a reverse somersault off the riser and out of sight.

How I wish I had saved that tape, but like so many of the "Community" programs, I let them be erased for future shows. If this had been the day of the videotape cassette rather than the bulky and cumbersome reel-to-reel tapes, I could have preserved them all.