Thus began the latest accession of the most successful programmer in TV history. ABC was a hopeless No. 3 in prime time when Silverman was lured away from permanently first-place CBS. Within two seasons ABC was on top, and Fred—for $1 million a year and his first command of the whole network, including news and sports—had jumped to the by now No. 3 NBC. In between, though, there had been what Fred called a "forced retirement" of four and a half months. When he jumped, ABC vindictively held him to the remainder of his contract, perhaps in retaliation for NBC's intransigence over the defection of Barbara Walters. A demonic worker, Silverman, 40, found consolation in that "My ratings definitely went up at home—now my kids know they have a father." Fred, his wife, Cathy, daughter Melissa, 5, and son William, 18 months, spent much of the time in Hawaii, his feet grinding the sand, doubtlessly as restless as Napoleon at Elba. He turned down a chance to tour China—proof to his detractors he was not deep or dimensional enough to be chief executive of a network. He was, after all, the father of the Fonz, the spinner-off of Rhoda and Laverne and Shirley, the purveyor of the so-called "jiggle" shows like Charlie's Angels and Three's Company.
Such was the image that Silverman had to turn around to demonstrate that he was not just a boobs-and-bottom (line) man. Acting fast, he dramatically preempted prime-time entertainment for a news special on the California tax revolt and abruptly canceled a leering series about airline stews. By the ninth day Freddie still hadn't rested. He'd fired not one of the executives he inherited (that's not his style), but in his four-secretary pool, three had dropped out from the furious pace. Silverman himself, despite the long vacation, had his old screening-room pallor and bags under his eyes approaching Frostian dimensions. But he was ready for the annual conclave (postponed until his coronation) of the managers of the network's 216 affiliated stations held this year in New York. They had been demoralized by the network that was still No. 1 only in wheel-spinning meetings and which had lost five outlets to ABC.
For the puppeteer of the national passions, President Silverman played it staid in his inaugural address. It was a rerun of the network showman-turned-statesman message of all the meetings, dripping with dignity and platitudes about "leadership through excellence." Two of the record turnout (744) rose to start a standing ovation, but no one joined them. Yet the very fact that some of them were there (as opposed to, say, at the ABC meeting this year) was vote-of-confidence enough.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
