Television: Soupy's On

From the cluttered studio of Detroit's station WXYZ came rumblings that a fresh new talent had successfully invaded the troubled precincts of TV comedy: a youthful (31), crewcut, putty-faced buffoon named Soupy Sales (real: Milton Hines), whose daily kiddie show, Comics, has outpulled such network favorites as Arthur Godfrey Time and the Tennessee Ernie Ford Show to become the top-rated daytime show in the area. Late each night Soupy's on in Soupy's On with a cultivated zaniness and a woolly collection of characters that faintly echo the bite of bigger wits now departed from the TV scene. There is Charles Vichysoisse, the leering Continental Crooner, perpetually at odds with his pianist, his white gloves and an undisciplined audience at Club Chichi. With rapid-fire changes, Soupy may become Wyatt Burp, the craven, belch-prone sheriff, or Calypso King Harry Bella, a wild-eyed, mop-domed South American who rolls drunks for a living.

On his "Author Meets Critic" panel, Soupy appears as Ernest Hemingbone, a grey-templed writer who fights a contrary pipe and indulges in literary guttersnipery. Soupy also fits cozily into the part of such irregular guests as a hooch-soaked Private Eye who couldn't find a clue in a roomful of corpses, an effete cowboy named The Lone Stranger, or a goateed bop musician who faints at the mention of Lawrence Welk.

Mean Old Germs. For his oddball efforts, Soupy is rewarded with a vast local audience approaching 1,000,000 and some prestige-pushing visits from such stars as Ella Fitzgerald, Roberta Sherwood and Duke Ellington. From his two shows and numberless personal appearances, Soupy will make about $100,000 this year. He writes his own material, virtually runs both shows singlehanded. To thousands of moppets who watch Comics daily, he is a genial, long-faced man in a crushed top hat, an outsized bow tie and a bulky black sweater, who moves with rubbery ease from classic grin to classic frown. "I act like a king-size kid myself," says Soupy, "and talk right to them just like I would a bank president." As pitchman he is less happy. Too often he is called upon to spray himself with Bactine disinfectant and sing "Down go the mean old germs," take great chunks of Silver Cup Bread (backed by offbeat sound effects) and shriek "The Best Bread in Deeee-troit." When he downs his Vite-A-Minnies, children all over Detroit follow suit. "The mothers love me," says Soupy. He also gets the thanks of the fathers by offering such sound advice as: "When you are in the car with Daddy, don't shout or climb all over him."