Gracing the small screen from 1948 to 1971, this American variety show became synonymous with entertainment and for serving as a central hub for talent — introducing the nation to the hippest new acts, and delivering many unforgettable unscripted moments over the airwaves.
Ed Sullivan, the show’s namesake, was no stranger to the world of journalism and entertainment. Before finding his calling as a television host, Sullivan spent years in the 1930s & 1940s as a well-regarded sportswriter and columnist.
Unassuming and modest, Sullivan’s on-screen personality contrasted sharply with many other television personalities of the time. His unique presentation style (actually, it was often described as “wooden”) became a signature part of the show, and only contributed to his success.
The Ed Sullivan Theater in New York City
In 1953, five years into its run, the show found a permanent home, broadcasting from CBS-TV Studio 50 at 1697 Broadway. In 1967, in honor of the show and its legendary host, the venue was renamed the Ed Sullivan Theater.
The theater, now a designated city landmark, has since become home to various other television programs — most notably The Late Show — and remains an iconic symbol of the entertainment industry.
Elvis on Ed Sullivan
But what really set the Ed Sullivan Show apart were the eclectic performances and the “rilly big” stars that graced its stage.
For example, Elvis Presley made his debut on the show in late 1956, back when the King of Rock ‘n Roll was just emerging from princedom. His first of three performances on the show was watched by an astounding 60 million viewers.
That’s an astonishing success — which came with a correspondingly astonishing payout for Elvis — made all the more interesting when you consider that just a a few months before, Sullivan had nixed an appearance, saying that he was “unfit for family viewing.” And that’s why you have probably heard that Presley was only filmed from the waist up for most of his performance time, as his dance moves were deemed too provocative for television.
Buddy Holly & Ed Sullivan
Buddy Holly, the bespectacled rock ‘n’ roll pioneer, made his mark on the Ed Sullivan Show as well. Appearing on the show in 1957, Holly performed with his band, The Crickets. Their performance of “That’ll Be the Day” was an immediate hit with audiences.
However, Holly’s relationship with Sullivan became strained during his appearance, leading to some tension on and off stage. Despite the backstage drama, Holly’s energetic performance left an impression on viewers and contributed to the growing popularity of rock ‘n’ roll across America. His appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show remains a highlight in the show’s storied history.
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan
The Beatles were another monumental act hosted by Sullivan. Their 1964 appearance on the show is credited with kicking off the British Invasion, introducing America to a whole new wave of British music.
Iconic performances weren’t limited to music. Comedians like Richard Pryor and Joan Rivers (see her below) took to the stage, showing off their comedic chops and winning over viewers.
Acts from various genres, including opera, ballet, and even circus performances, found a home on Sullivan’s stage, reflecting the broad tastes of the American public.
Despite its eventual cancellation, the Ed Sullivan Show’s legacy lives on, symbolizing a golden era of television and serving as a touchstone for modern entertainment.
Above and below, check out some old photos and video clips we have collected, along with an interview with Ed Sullivan originally published in 1953 — back when the show was fresh and new to the scene.
The Ed Sullivan Show: They call him ‘The Great Stone Face’
By Cynthia Lowry in the Des Moines Register (Iowa) August 30, 1953
Edward Vincent Sullivan is a chain-smoking, golf-bronzed worrier who likes people to think he’s money mad. He has a halting sort of delivery which has brought forth such descriptions as “The Great Stone Face” and “The Unsmiling Irishman.”
He reminds you quite a bit of how you or I probably would look as a television emcee — nervous, shifting from one foot to another, generally unhappy. But he also has one of the most successful TV programs in the business.
He is unpolished in a quiet, studied, deadpan manner which most folks find pleasant and effective, and he makes a great deal of money. Which would seem to dispose of his relatively few critics.
Impresario and co-producer of “Toast of the Town” — which during the next year will cost its automotive sponsors more than $12 million dollars; employer of $16,000 worth of guest talent each week; scriptwriter and roaster of ceremonies, Ed Sullivan is one of the fastest-spinning big wheels in show business.
He is a peculiarly Irish compound of sentiment, sensitivity and shrewdness — a sort of glue which each week patches together a show perennially among the top five national favorites. Yet with ostrich-like stubbornness, he insists he is just a newspaperman with a lucrative show business sideline. A nice sideline, it pays him something more than $160,000 a year before taxes.
Irish temper
It’s the newspaperman in him which occasionally brings the most violent explosion of his Irish temper. That’s when he hears a certain well-circulated, time-worn story involving his double role. The tale has dogged him through five years.
When he started the TV show, he was greeted by a critical reception from his column-writing fellows that would have put a lesser man to flight. Among other blasts, he was accused of using his newspaper column as a club to force top-flight talent onto the program at cheap prices.
His temper and his ulcer blew up together. His golf game was shattered. He took to writing furious letters, offering to show his critics the account books to prove that, not only was the talent well paid, but he wasn’t making a penny from the show himself.
“For the first year,” he says, still bitterly, “I never made a dime. I poured every cent back in so we could hire better talent. I’ll show you the books.”
The Ed Sullivan Show: “Squeezing the juice out of television”
He has one other pet peeve — accusations that he’s stage-struck. He hates the charge.
“Stage-struck, ha,” he sneers, “I was money-struck.”
Then he goes into a well-rehearsed routine about having been in on the ground floor of radio, and missing a big-money chance. This he follows with tough talk about how he’s going to squeeze the juice out of television. All of it, of course, is nonsense, as a cursory glance at his biographical background proves.
Ed Sullivan has been carrying on a flirtation with show business for most of his 52 years. Even in his first New York newspaper job as a sports writer, he savored the performances of athletes with the delicate touch of a theatrical gourmet. He moved on to writing a Broadway column, which cast him among the folks he loves and most admires: show people.
The first time he stuck a cautious foot outside his column was to act as master of ceremonies for a promotional all-star sports dinner thrown by his newspaper, the now-defunct Graphic. He handled himself so unobtrusively and introduced the celebrities so well, he was invited — for pay — to round up a vaudeville variety show to play on Broadway.
That made him a professional. It also was the genesis of today’s “Toast of the Town.”
“You see,” Sullivan explains earnestly, “I’m not a performer. I can’t sing, or dance, or tell a story well, or act. What I really can do is use a newspaperman’s techniques in another medium.” “I go to the theater a lot,” he said, “and there’s something about talent that is easily communicated. It’s something you feel as well as see.”
Ed Sullivan’s home & personal life
Sullivan’s whole mode of life reflects his basic concern with show business. With his attractive, brunette wife, Sylvia, he lives in a comfortable, air-conditioned suite in a Park Avenue hotel. Their only child, Betty, is married and living in California.
The third member of their household is an oxford gray, outrageously spoiled miniature French poodle, Bojangles II, called Boje. Boje — named after the late Bill Robinson — rules Sullivan’s life delicately yet firmly. The little animal’s insistence on being walked by none but the master provides Ed’s only exercise except golf.
Although reared in suburban Port Chester, N.Y., Sullivan is happiest living close to the bright lights. The Sullivans live an actor’s existence, late to bed and late to rise. Ed likes to dine in restaurants, and his wife is fond of measuring his affection for Boje by the fact that they ate home steadily for a couple of weeks when the poodle was sick.
Walls and bookcases in the room he uses for his office are filled with mementos. There are autographed pictures from Sullivan’s close friends and heroes, a wide non-partisan cross-section ranging from Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and the late Carole Lombard to Babe Ruth, Jack Dempsey, and Joe Louis, to Cardinal Spellman, Bishop Fulton Sheen, Governor Dewey, and the late James Forrestal.
Scattered around are assorted dust-catchers as award plaques, gilt keys to cities, certificates of merit, medals, loving cups.
He taps out his newspaper column — organized with the assistance of a secretary — on a gold-plated, inscribed portable typewriter which was the flashy gift of a Jewish veterans’ organization. He’s a man of average height.
His slick dark hair is just starting to show gray. His eyes are a startling, bright blue in their summertime sun-tanned setting. He’s considerably better looking than his reflection in a TV camera, which seems to emphasize the strong jawline and accentuate broad shoulders at the expense of his neck.
He’s a skillful worrier. Nothing is too small to receive some attention.
The Ed Sullivan Show: Good storytelling
He’s an articulate talker, by turns serious, light, and slightly profane, and is a good storyteller. He has a modest trick of turning questions about himself into anecdotes about his friends.
Sullivan’s classic contribution to show business has been breaking hard and fast rules on the sequence of variety acts.
“Bill Robinson was the first performer who ever agreed to open a show for me,” he recalled. “He said he’d go on first because he was sick and tired of hanging around backstage for hours waiting to close a show.”
The technique really didn’t get acceptance until television. Then he used the telling argument that putting on a starring act to open the show indicated to living room audiences that a pretty exciting hour of entertainment was coming up.
“It’s all right to start slow in the theater where they’ve bought seats and aren’t going to walk out on their money,” he commented, “but at home, that dial is right at the end of their fingertips.”
Ed Sullivan guest starring on The Phil Silvers Show (1957)
The Sullivan family for Kodak Kodacolor Film (1959)
Ed for the Kodak Brownie 20 cameras (1959)
Ed with guest Brigitte Bardot (1961)
The Ed Sullivan Show opening intro from February 1966
Ed Sullivan and Muppets on TV Guide cover (1970)
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