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But even in the fickle world of TV, a major network is not likely to panic because its rating lead has been shaved to a hair-thin .5 of a point. After all, Jim Aubrey was still one of the most aggressive, arm-twisting goal-line fighters in the trade. So there must be another reason, and attention soon centered on Aubrey's old crony and nightclub companion Keefe Brasselle, 41, a sometime actor who had a single success playing the lead role in 1953's The Eddie Can tor Story.
Bore & Bomb. Two years ago, Aubrey tapped Brasselle to host a summer-replacement variety hour. It was an unqualified critical and popular bore. But Aubrey persisted. This season he gave Brasselle's Richelieu Productions a contract for three new shows, The Reporter, The Cam Williams Show, and The Baileys of Balboa. Brasselle had barely any experience as a TV producer, but Aubrey bought all three shows without even seeing a pilot film, an almost unheard-of vote of confidence for even an established program packager. All three bombed out; The Reporter was canceled after 13 weeks, and both Williams and Balboa are scheduled to be dropped.
Variety, which hears a lot of showbiz scuttlebutt, reported: "For at least three months, industry insiders had expected that Aubrey's relationship with some program producers . . . could well cost him his lofty CBS-TV position." And the Federal Communications Commission was planning to turn the guns on the network stranglehold over programming (see following story). One of its specific interests: the relationship between network executives and independent producers.
The Ratings & the Ax. But even the Aubrey-Brasselle tie-up wasn't sufficient reason. So, much of the post-firing gossip centered on Aubrey's private life. He was married in 1944 to Actress Phyllis Thaxter; they had two children (now 18 and 11), and in 1962 got a Mexican divorce. Not all women swooned in Aubrey's presence, but he radiated a detective-story maleness—and, after all, most of the babes he met were in show business too. His manner and deportment brought an occasional remonstrance from Stanton or Paley, but Aubrey was unconcerned. "How can Paley ax me," he said to a friend, "when I've made him $40 million? As long as I build the stock and drive the ratings up, no one's going to give me a hard time."
But Aubrey was no longer driving the ratings up, and he was far more vulnerable than he suspected. Insiders say the decision to drop him was probably made two weeks ago, before Paley left for a Nassau vacation. But with next year's program scheduling still in its final, hectic stages, it was decided to wait.
Then, abruptly, the timetable was moved up. The New York Times's Jack Gould said the immediate cause was a "personal matter"; Variety suggested "private detectives were involved." CBS suddenly discovered it needed Aubrey like it needed a broken arm. Wednesday night Paley flew in from Nassau. Thursday the decision was reached. Friday Aubrey was summoned. Saturday he was out. It was all so fast, in fact, that his successor, John Schneider, was not even asked to take the job until the day of the firing.