The Incredible World of James Bond

On November 26, 1965, the day after Thanksgiving, NBC fittingly pre-empted The Man From U.N.C.L.E. to run The Incredible World of James Bond, an hour-long documentary that, given its sweep and licensing rights to all the Bond films made up till then – Dr. No, From Russia with Love, Goldfinger and the upcoming Thunderball – survives as the definitive statement on a cultural phenomenon.

I watched the show when it originally aired, an eleven-year-old already stuck in the snare of Bondmania (not to mention Beatlemania and lurking around the corner in just four months’ time, Batmania) and it was a trip watching scenes from Goldfinger – the Aston Martin, Oddjob’s electrocution, the laser beam aimed at Bond’s family jewels – in our living room.

The full movie wouldn’t air on network television until September 1972.

The Incredible World of James Bond also gave us a rare glimpse of the very proper Ian Fleming wandering about Goldeneye, his Jamaican estate, in a safari jacket, cigarette holder clenched in his mouth, with a reminder that Fleming didn’t look any farther than his bookshelf for a name for his fictional spy, a nature guide titled Birds of the West Indies by ornithologist James Bond.

A segment on Bond tie-in merchandise included the elusive, only-rich-kids-can-afford-it 007 Road Race set and the 007 attache case, plus a line of men’s wear, perfect for lounging about after consuming the Bond’s room service breakfast in From Russia with Love (and shown in a segment covering his refined tastes) of green figs, yogurt and coffee, very black.

What recently triggered all this was the sudden appearance on YouTube of this ad which ran during the program and suckered me right in:

Here’s my original copy of the album, delivered on January 14, 1966.

Adjusted for inflation, a single U.S. dollar in 1966 had the purchasing power of about $10.19 today, making the record, and factoring in the purchase of a bag of Fritos, a bit of a ripoff for the kind of budget LP found in supermarkets and bargain bids, but it seemed well worth it at the time.

The record found a place in my collection and came in handy when I made tapes for road trips in my 1973 Toyota Corona – standard model, no ejector seat – as one of my favorite tricks was to fade out the Bond theme into Johnny Rivers’ Secret Agent Man.

The album would have also made excellent background music while I watched the slot cars in that road racing set go around and round. Anybody who could afford the racing cars wouldn’t have thought twice about spending another buck on the record.