The Nonperformers

Every Monday evening at 10 p.m. on NBC, a honk that sounds as if it came from a goose with a bad head cold reverberates through the living rooms of America, and America listens--and watches. The Arthur Murray Party and its nasal, admittedly amateurish M.C., Kathryn Murray, have somehow waltzed into one of the top-rated spots on nighttime TV. Fortnight ago, after CBS had spent weeks advertising The Case of Dr. Mudd on Desilu Playhouse, CBS's Trendex was 18.7, the Party's a cozy 24.7.

Tall, gawky Dance Master Murray, 63, whose major contribution is to hop onstage like an arthritic flamingo at show's end and swirl his wife off-camera, is puzzled by the popularity of what is essentially a corny variety show with some dance-studio trimmings. Says he: "Maybe it's popular because they want a free dance lesson." Hostess Kathryn, at 52, still a petite 98 Ibs., tries a bit harder to understand. "I've a harsh, unattractive voice, but at least it's distinctive," she says. "The cab drivers always spot it. The other day, one of them said to me: 'You don't have talent, you can't sing, you're not a very good dancer, you're no glamour girl and you're no spring chicken, but there's one thing you do have--courage.' "

Kathryn Murray has been flaunting her courage on the air since 1950, when husband Arthur put up the money for Party's first half-hour of relentlessly joyous dancing. Although they picked up a few sponsors, the show was gradually dropped to the status of summer replacement--and clobbered Cornball Lawrence Welk when placed opposite him. Thus encouraged, says Kathryn, "we figured that if we were going to take a chance on being criticized, we'd rather do it on a winter show." This year the Murrays finally found a full-time evening sponsor (P. Lorillard).

The show has had no more trouble garnering top guest stars--often without pay--than it does audiences. Tallulah waltzes, Fernando Lamas tangos, and last week even Helen Hayes tippy-toed through a routine. "It appeals for its very amateurishness," says an NBC pressagent. "Every middle-aged woman identifies herself with Kathryn and thinks, 'There, but for the grace of inhibitions, go I.' "

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