The Great U.N.C.L.E. Affair - TV Week May 20 1967
Peter McDonald, the Man From TV WEEK, tracks down Mr. Waverly.
I entered the basement dry cleaning store, winked knowingly at the man working the steam press - and the secret door opened.
I had crashed into U.N.C.L.E. headquarters!
Once in the passageway behind the door I pinned on my U.N.C.L.E. badge, forced on an air of nonchalance and headed for my objective.
What secret devices would there be to block my way? Would sensitive instruments detect the ball-point pen and the notebook concealed in my pockets?
But all was safe. I reached the end of the passageway, burst into the room...and there was my objective, Mr. Waverly, sitting behind his desk sucking his pipe.
He gave me a short, hard look, his fingers poised over the instrument panel at his desk. Tell him now, I thought, before he vulcanises me.
"I'm from TV WEEK," I gasped. "I want to interview you for our readers."
"Likely story!" he snorted, his finger still poised. "The last time a THRUSH man got in here, we..."
"Please stop being Mr. Waverly," I pleaded. "I want to interview you as your real self, as Leo G. Carroll, the actor."
"Go on!"
"Well, sir, have you ever hankered to be a spy in real life?"
"Oh, espionage," he said. "As a profession it has crossed my mind once or twice during my life.
"I'm a character actor. I like makeup, dialects. I like to assume different characters. I like being anyone but myself. I never wanted to be me.
"I prefer to appear in some disguise and act accordingly."
His eyes narrowed.
"That's what you do in espionage," he explained. "It would have been very interesting. I imagine it offers an infinite amount of variety.
"There was a period in my life when I could have done this. I was bold enough and brave enough once..."
Later, at ease in a Hollywood restaurant, Leo G. Carroll, at 75 the grand old man of television, reminisced about when the world was then embroiled in the Great War and Britannia's Empire was truly vast and great. A sword had dangled from his side and wide red piping edged the lieutenant's epaulettes.
He was telegraphed the day he left to join his unit that "our officers wear greatcoats and swords."
He paid in real sweat as he sweltered in the greatcoat on the long hot journey, but this was not enough to daunt a young warrior. It would take the war in North Africa to do that.
The war, for him, ended during Allenby's thrust. A Mills hand-bomb landed behind him. He has often thought he was lucky not to be buried in mistake for being dead in the field.
Yes, he had been bold and brave enough once. "Oh, it is many years since I've talked about those days," he said. "I shouldn't, these memories should be wrapped up and buried with a man.
"I don't think I feel much nostalgia for anything or anyone, anymore. I'm at that age when I don't want to be bothered by anything."
Although he is surrounded by gadgets at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Carroll isn't fully in favor of progress.
His home in the heart of Hollywood had been a pleasant place until the freeway came. He could remember a time when his street saw only four cars a day. Now it was more like four a minute.
Does Mr. Waverly enjoy the less hazardous other life as Mr. Carroll?
"The garden wears me out," he sighed. "It's not a garden anymore, it's a jungle. Mrs. Carroll has a bit of a green thumb. She used to attend to it. But she is slower now."
What was his favorite TV role?
"Playing Father FitzGibbon in Going My Way gave me much aesthetic pleasure," he said. "There was a great depth of humanity to that television series. It was a pity it had to end.
"There was no challenge to Topper, I grew rather tired coming to the studio and just changing into a suit every day.
"U.N.C.L.E.? I don't do very much in The Man From U.N.C.L.E., do I? I just send the boys out and wrap up the case each week. I'm just there to push the buttons."
He was silent now, obviously remembering something and seeking to recall it in exact detail.
"The new producer," he said finally, "took me aside just before we broke for the holidays.
"'We're going to get you out of this office next season,' he told me. 'Get you to play around a little more.'
"You know, it would be nice to get out into the field again. It gets a little cold behind that big desk of mine at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters."
Thanks to feathers for transcribing this article from microfiche. The photos with the article were of extremely poor quality, so they haven't been included here.
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