Comfort TV

Television existed in the 1940s but did not achieve mass media status until the next decade. In the 1950s the program genres and production techniques that still define the medium were established and refined, and dozens of shows were introduced that are still finding new audiences on cable and DVD.

A TV set was a big investment back then, and even once prices began dropping there were many who felt the whole concept was just a passing fad. But then came Milton Berle and Howdy Doody, Lucy Ricardo and Davy Crockett, and by the end of the decade there was a television in 9 out of every 10 American households.

Television history starts here, and these – in no particular order – are the shows you should know. For those that are not available on home video or through streaming services, there are plenty of clips on YouTube and other video sites.

The Twilight Zone

Some shows from the 1950s remain the gold standard for their genres, and The Twilight Zone is one of them. Rod Serling’s brilliant science fiction anthology series featured some of the best television writing of the decade, and can still scare the bejeezus out of viewers who grew up on Freddie and Jason.

The Goldbergs

Two years before I Love Lucy, The Goldbergs established the viability of television situation comedy, with characters that were already beloved after nearly 20 years on radio. Star Gertrude Berg (Molly Goldberg) was also the series’ producer and most prolific writer.

Texaco Star Theater

No one was responsible for the sale of more television sets than Milton Berle, aptly dubbed “Mr. Television.” Berle’s characters and skits have not aged as gracefully as many of his contemporaries, but his Tuesday night comedy-variety series was America’s first must-see TV.

Gunsmoke

Westerns thrived on television in the 1950s. In the 1958-’59 season there were 30 western series in prime time. You don’t need to sample them all but you should know Gunsmoke. It ran 20 years and more than 600 episodes, all featuring James Arness as Marshal Matt Dillon.

What’s My Line?

Several game shows aired in prime time in the 1950s, and one of the best was What’s My Line. Unlike later generations of game shows featuring screaming contestants and hosts with the subtlety of used car salesmen, this was an elegant, cultured series with a witty celebrity panel and a distinguished journalist as its host.

Dragnet

Another successful radio adaptation, Dragnet introduced viewers to the no-nonsense L.A. police detective Sgt. Joe Friday, as played by Jack Webb. The series became known for its staccato dialogue exchanges and iconic theme (the opening four notes once ranked only behind Beethoven’s Fifth in instant recognition). Friday was so admired by real cops that the real Los Angeles Police Department retired his badge number.

Howdy Doody

TV’s first kiddie show phenomenon, and one of the first series to awaken advertisers to the impact of the new medium; when Howdy and Buffalo Bob endorsed a product, sales skyrocketed. The Howdy Doody puppet is now on display at the Smithsonian.

Leave it to Beaver

A family situation comedy that defined both its era and its genre, and that introduced a character in Eddie Haskell that became synonymous with sycophantic weasels.

Your Show of Shows

A towering achievement of TV’s Golden Age, Your Show of Shows presented 90 minutes of often inspired live sketch comedy, every week, for four years. The series was fueled by genius both in front of the camera (Sid Caesar, Imogene Coca, Carl Reiner) and in the writer’s room (Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, Larry Gelbart). It also inspired The Dick Van Dyke Show and the film (and Broadway musical) My Favorite Year.

The Honeymooners

Episodes from “the classic 39” have been on television almost non-stop for more than half a century. Jackie Gleason and Art Carney were the medium’s first great comedy team, and Carney’s Ed Norton is the forefather of every wacky TV neighbor from Gladys Kravitz to Cosmo Kramer.

The Ernie Kovacs Show

Where other comedians were content to play on television, Ernie Kovacs was the only personality who would play with television, creating surreal audio and visual tricks that were decades ahead of their time.

The Original Amateur Hour

Hosted by Ted Mack, the Ryan Seacrest of the Eisenhower era, television’s first talent show aired for 22 years. It launched very few careers, but contestants included Pat Boone and a 7-year-old singer named Gladys Knight.

I Love Lucy

I trust no explanation is necessary. Laugh-out-loud moments can be found in every episode, and Desi Arnaz was an important pioneer in how situation comedies were staged and shot before a live audience.

Perry Mason

Television’s first courtroom drama set the standard for dozens of subsequent legal shows, though no TV lawyer ever had a higher winning percentage than Perry Mason. Raymond Burr’s portrayal of Mason created an idealized image of the crusading attorney that defined that profession on TV for decades.

Playhouse 90

The dramatic anthology series has disappeared, but in the 1950s there were several outstanding programs that performed movie-length dramatic scripts live every week. Start with Playhouse 90 and “Requiem for a Heavyweight,” written by Rod Serling and starring Jack Palance.

Amos & Andy

One of TV’s most controversial series, and worth a look just for the discussions it generated on racial stereotypes at a time when the South was still segregated. Amos & Andy also has a number of defenders in the African-American community, and it’s worth reading that side of the argument as well. Plus, it’s still a very funny show.

Arthur Godfrey and His Friends

Arthur Godfrey was one of Golden Age TV’s most unique personalities. His folksy charm attracted millions of viewers to both daytime and prime time series, but when he fired one of his “friends,” singer Julius LaRosa, during a live broadcast, fans saw a darker side to Godfrey and never forgave him.

The Mickey Mouse Club

In 1955, nine of the ten most-watched afternoon television shows were episodes of The Mickey Mouse Club (#10 was a World Series game). Ambitious for its time (and for now, really), the merry (and very talented) Mousketeers hosted one hour of singing, dancing, serials, news, cartoons, travelogues and guest stars. Why? Because they liked you.

The Phil Silvers Show

As inveterate gambler and con man Sgt. Ernie Bilko, Phil Silvers created one of television’s most lovable rats. Concerns over portraying a military man as a flim-flam artist dissipated after voluntary enlistments actually rose during the years the series aired.

Toast of the Town

Better known as The Ed Sullivan Show, this was the variety series that introduced The Beatles to America, and censored Elvis Presley by only shooting his performances from the waist up. All that, plus it turned an Italian mouse puppet named Topo Gigio into a household name.

The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet

The real Nelson family – Ozzie, Harriet and sons David and Ricky – played themselves on this whimsical scripted sitcom that lasted 14 seasons, and launched Ricky into a music career that landed him in the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame. This series is an inspired and inventive treasure that deserves to be much better known today.

American Bandstand

Another show that probably needs no introduction. Hosted by Dick Clark, American Bandstand came of age alongside rock music and integrated its teenage audience before that was a common practice. In the 1950s, even its dancers had their own fan clubs.

The Steve Allen Show

Steve Allen was the first host of The Tonight Show, and also headlined a prime time variety series that invented many of the comedy bits still being used by David Letterman and Conan O’Brien. If you’re sampling online, start with the “Man on the Street” interviews, featuring Don Knotts, Tom Poston and Louis Nye.

The Donna Reed Show

Not a groundbreaking series, but one of the warmest, friendliest and loving family situation comedies ever created.

Extra Credit

For those seeking even more wholesome, black-and-white TV goodness, try these 1950s gems:

Father Knows Best

The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show

I Married Joan

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

The Jack Benny Show

Maverick

The Red Skelton Show

Our Miss Brooks

Next Week: The 1960s

The 1960s was a watershed decade for popular culture, particularly in music. But there were also signs of the changing times reflected in the television of the era.

Contrast the programming choices at the start of the decade, many of them holdovers from the more traditional 1950s, with the iconoclastic shows of 1968 and 1969. The disparity is much deeper than the change from black-and-white to color.

Sometimes it’s possible to notice the medium’s evolution within just one show – observe how Samantha Stephens’ outfits change from the first season of Bewitched (1964) to the last (1972). To paraphrase a popular advertising slogan from that era, she’s come a long way, baby.

These are the shows you should know from the 1960s.

The Andy Griffith Show

Sixties TV is evenly divided between shows that look back, and shows that look forward. The Andy Griffith Show is one of television’s most delightful backward glances – more than 40 years later and we still can’t get enough of the tranquil Mayberry lifestyle.

Mission: Impossible

Television’s finest espionage series, particularly in its first three seasons when Martin Landau and Barbara Bain were part of the team. The propulsive Lalo Schifrin theme and Mr. Phelps’ self-destructing tape recorders left a permanent mark on popular culture.

Peyton Place

A groundbreaking prime time soap opera (based on a once scandalous novel) that launched the careers of Ryan O’Neal and Mia Farrow. New shows were aired as often as three times a week, and fans still hope that all 500+ episodes will be released on DVD.

That Girl

This story of a young single girl in the big city reflected the changing times and the rise of feminism. Marlo Thomas’s character of struggling actress Ann Marie was a TV trailblazer that begat Mary Richards and Carrie Bradshaw.

The Dick Van Dyke Show

Mixing sophisticated wordplay with inspired moments of slapstick silliness, The Dick Van Dyke Show was a near-perfect situation comedy that remains strikingly modern more than 50 years after its debut.

Star Trek

Star Trek, and it’s many subsequent TV and film incarnations, represents a vision of our future that might be achievable if we don’t screw it up. The Enterprise’s original five-year mission barely lasted three seasons but introduced a profusion of iconic characters, concepts and expressions. The series also inspired a then-unprecedented level of television series fandom, that didn’t truly kick in until after the show was canceled.

Bewitched

There were many sitcoms with fantasy elements in the Sixties (I Dream of Jeannie, My Favorite Martian, Mr. Ed). Bewitched was the best and the classiest of the bunch, and the only one with a subtext beyond its supernatural set-up. Was it really about TV’s first mixed marriage?

My Mother the Car

On the other end of the fantasy sitcom spectrum was this infamous disaster starring Jerry Van Dyke as a man whose mother is reincarnated as a 1928 Porter automobile. Treasure it the way bad movie fans love Plan 9 From Outer Space, as one of the medium’s preeminent punch lines.

The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour

This youth-oriented variety series was on the front line of the cultural and generational conflicts of the Vietnam era. Tom and Dick Smothers and their writers (including Steve Martin) constantly pushed the envelope on provocative political humor, so much so that the series was pulled by conservative CBS executives despite respectable ratings.

Scooby Doo, Where Are You?

This Saturday morning staple was the first in a seemingly endless series of Hanna-Barbera cartoons pitting teenage friends against phony monsters and would-be world conquerors. It wasn’t brilliant television, but the premise was certainly durable – they’re still making new Scooby Doo adventures.

The Fugitive

As Dr. Richard Kimble, a pediatrician wrongly accused of killing his wife, David Janssen delivers one of the most poignant and nuanced performances on any program from any decade (so of course he never won an Emmy). The series’ final episode held the record for largest viewing audience until the resolution of Dallas’s “Who shot J.R.” cliffhanger.

The Brady Bunch

If there is an official family sitcom of the Baby Boomer era, this is it. It’s far from the best written or performed representation of its genre, but its characters have been lovingly embraced by two generations of TV fans. This is one of the ultimate “Comfort TV” series.

Candid Camera

Technically, Candid Camera debuted in 1948, and appeared sporadically on local stations and as a segment of network series throughout the 1950s. But it is mostly remembered for a 1960-1967 run, so it is listed here with the best of the sixties. The gags staged by host Allen Funt were remarkably inventive, without the streak of cruelty apparent in latter-day updates like Punk’d.

The Avengers

London had its own swinging sixties vibe, which provided the backdrop for this tongue-in-cheek secret agent series, one of the few British programs to crack a US prime time schedule. The chemistry and witty repartee between Patrick Macnee (John Steed) and Diana Rigg (Emma Peel) has yet to rivaled, much less surpassed.

The Carol Burnett Show

Though it’s now more closely associated with the 1970s, Carol Burnett’s classic variety series debuted in 1967. So many of the comedy sketches have passed into TV legend, but the show’s musical moments, now largely forgotten, were just as impressive.

Batman

Even with new superhero movies opening almost every month, there hasn’t been anything comparable to this inspired, deranged and altogether unique rendering of the Caped Crusader and Boy Wonder.

Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In

A phenomenon in its day, and a peerless launching pad for future stars (Goldie Hawn, Arte Johnson, Lily Tomlin), Laugh-In introduced more memorable comedic characters and catchphrases than any other 1960s series.

The Beverly Hillbillies

Paul Henning created three rural-themed sitcoms for CBS in the Sixties – The Beverly Hillbillies, Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. All of them are worth revisiting. Hillbillies was the most popular and the most polarizing. Some find it lowbrow humor at its worst, but others (like me) find the Clampetts irresistible.

The Outer Limits

Television’s first truly exceptional science-fiction series was hindered only by primitive special effects. But with scripts by Harlan Ellison and Joseph Stefano, and actors like Martin Sheen, Robert Culp, Leonard Nimoy, Martin Landau and Cliff Robertson, it was easier to imagine the show’s rubber-suited creatures as convincing metaphors for social injustice and the military-industrial complex.

The Monkees

American TV’s answer to A Hard Day’s Night proved far more successful, both artistically and musically, than anyone had a right to expect. The series was fresh and funny and made a pioneering contribution to music video. The Monkees’ music, once derided by some critics as corporate-driven and manufactured, has aged even more gracefully than the series.

Dark Shadows

A gothic daytime drama that added vampires, witches, werewolves, time travel and reanimated corpses into the usual mix of soapy afternoon romance and betrayal. Echoes of reluctant vampire Barnabas Collins, masterfully played by Jonathan Frid, can be perceived in nearly all of the vampire shows and movies of the past decade.

Get Smart

An obvious gimmick – sending up James Bond – with a distinguished pedigree (Mel Brooks and Buck Henry served as creators) Get Smart was a giddy mix of dumb jokes and smart jokes, anchored by Don Adams’ matchless portrayal of Maxwell Smart. You can’t be a classic TV lover if you don’t cherish every appearance of the Cone of Silence.

Julia

In Julia, Diahann Carroll became the first African-American woman to play a (non-domestic) lead role in a prime time series. With Greg Morris already on Mission: Impossible and Nichelle Nichols on Star Trek this wasn’t color-barrier breaking at the Jackie Robinson level, but it’s a progression of which TV fans should be aware.

Extra Credit

More 1960s standouts that deserve your attention:

The Flintstones

Monty Python’s Flying Circus

The Dean Martin Show

Honey West

The Defenders

The Patty Duke Show

Route 66

Next week: The 1970s

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Whenever necessary I will own up to my own personal biases. So in the interest of full disclosure I acknowledge that the 1970s is my favorite TV era. It’s certainly not the best or the most groundbreaking but it’s the one I grew up on. And I have always believed that the television shows you bond with in childhood are the ones that always stay closest to your heart.

Escapism reigned for much of the decade, with a profusion of forget-your-troubles-and-just-get-happy shows that helped viewers cope with gas lines, presidential scandals and leisure suits as fashion statements. Those seeking more serious fare embraced a new programming genre – the miniseries – that adapted great books and retold great moments in history with all-star casts.

How I wish I could justify the addition of The Magician, Harry-O, Switch, Eight is Enough and ElectraWoman and DynaGirl to the list of must-see 70s shows. But here’s a more objective list of the decade’s finest offerings.

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

One of the best comedic ensembles ever assembled for a situation comedy, choreographed into consistent excellence by two masters of the form, James L. Brooks and Allan Burns. The show is as fresh and funny today as it was 40 years ago.

Columbo

Peter Falk’s trenchcoat-clad police lieutenant, who annoyed suspects into confessions, was one of several characters featured in NBC’s Sunday Mystery Movie series. But while McCloud, McMillan and Wife and Hec Ramsey all had their moments, Columbo was the only one that earns a place alongside the creations of Poe and Conan Doyle in the annals of classic detective fiction.

Saturday Night Live

While each generation grumbles about how SNL is not as funny as it used to be, the show itself continues to introduce at least 2-3 major comedy talents every few years. The original cast may still be untouchable, though inconsistency has always been part of the mix. But no other series has been as influential on American comedy – from John Belushi to Eddie Murphy to Phil Hartman (and from Gilda Radner to Tina Fey to Kristen Wiig).

Dallas

In the seventies there were several prime-time soap operas depicting the shady lifestyles of the rich and glamorous. Dallas was the most successful and the most entertaining. J.R. Ewing, played with grinning malevolence by Larry Hagman, was a villain for the ages – as demonstrated by his charismatic return in the series’ 2012 revival.

M*A*S*H

M*A*S*H lasted so long – ten years and nearly 250 episodes – that fans debate which series era was better. Do you prefer the early years, which mimicked the impertinent tone of Robert Altman’s film, or the later, less outrageous seasons that reflected the input of star Alan Alda (who wrote and directed several episodes)? The final show still holds the record for most viewers, at more than 125 million.

All In the Family

The first of several Norman Lear-produced comedies that broke genre taboos, frankly discussed controversial issues and represented (for some) a bold step forward from the more innocent family sitcoms of an earlier age.

The Love Boat

Carefree escapism was a seventies TV staple, and no one delivered more of it than producer Aaron Spelling. The Love Boat was one of his most shallow and most successful concepts. It’s also worth another look for the golden age movie stars who staved off retirement with appearances on shows like this one, Fantasy Island and Hotel. Where else can you see Don Ameche and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. sailing alongside Jimmie Walker and Roz Kelly?

The Bob Newhart Show

No situation comedy explored the comic possibilities of the telephone and the elevator more than The Bob Newhart Show. Newhart’s dry delivery and Suzanne Pleshette’s sass anchored one of the decade’s top sitcoms. Plus, “Home to Emily” may be the era’s best instrumental TV theme.

Roots

The ABC network was so nervous about how viewers would greet the ‘miniseries’ format, especially one that dealt with the harsh realities of slavery, that they aired all eight episodes on consecutive nights. The idea was to just get it over with quickly. Instead, America became enthralled with Roots. It drew 100 million viewers and became for a time the most watched and most honored dramatic show in television history.

Little House on the Prairie

Michael Landon was one of TV’s most beloved stars. While he also enjoyed long-running success in Bonanza and Highway to Heaven, Little House is his best TV work. Based on the classic books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, the series also introduced adorable half-pint Melissa Gilbert, and the delightfully wicked Nellie Oleson.

General Hospital

Soap operas were successful before and after the seventies, but General Hospital achieved the kind of pop culture prominence reserved for prime-time shows after introducing super-couple Luke and Laura, played by Tony Geary and Genie Francis. Their wedding was the most-watched daytime drama moment ever.

Happy Days

Truth be told I don’t think this show holds up as well as other comedies from its era, but you can’t talk seventies television without paying due homage to The Fonz. For a few seasons, before he literally jumped the shark (introducing that phrase), Henry Winkler could stop the show with every entrance, every line reading and every thumbs-up. His leather jacket now hangs in the Smithsonian.

The Rockford Files

Beneath the glittering disco balls and superficial fads that flitted through 70s pop culture, there lingered a more sobering cynicism, spurred on by two events that served as decade bookends - Watergate and the Iran hostage crisis. Few shows tapped into that cynicism as entertainingly as The Rockford Files. No other TV detective ever received as little personal satisfaction or financial compensation for his work, suggesting that no matter how hard you try, you’re bound to fail in a system that’s rigged.

WKRP in Cincinnati

I’m not sure why this show seems to bubble just under confirmed “classic TV” status. Maybe it wasn’t on long enough. But I still can’t get through Thanksgiving without one reference to flying turkeys.

Charlie’s Angels

The first “jiggle TV” series, and the launching pad for the decade’s most famous and flawless face, Farrah Fawcett-Majors. The first three seasons offered pleasures besides cheesecake – Kate Jackson earned two Emmy nominations and almost made the Angels credible as investigators.

Barney Miller

Barney Miller gets better with age. It’s been called TV’s only optimistic cop series, and that’s as good a description as any. Depicting real crime and real victims with humor requires a delicate balance, but at the 12^thPrecinct it was all in a day’s work.

The Six Million Dollar Man

Though cell phones and iPads were still years away, technology began to play a larger role in our lives in the 1970s, and this was a series that suggested advancements once relegated to science fiction were coming closer to reality. Plus, more Farrah Fawcett, an illustrious spin-off series in The Bionic Woman, and Bigfoot!

Soap

This was one of the first shows that some took as the beginning of the end for western civilization. Watchdog groups protested and some ABC affiliates refused to carry the series, but Soap was never as decadent as its detractors claimed. Much of the controversy focused on Billy Crystal as Jodie Dallas, one of TV’s first gay characters.

Extra Credit

For more groovy Seventies classics, check out these shows:

The Partridge Family

Marcus Welby, M.D.

Three’s Company

Family

Starsky & Hutch

Maude

Next Week: The 1980s

The 1980s was the last true classic TV decade. Which is not to say that television hasn’t introduced many brilliant shows in the 20 years since – only that the medium, and our relationship to it – has drastically changed.

Cable and satellite television added hundreds of viewing options to our TV menu. As a result, viewership for even the most celebrated shows has been greatly diminished. Series such as Mad Men, Game of Thrones, Girlsand Breaking Bad are watched by about 10% of the people that watched the lowest-rated network shows in the 1960s, ‘70s and ‘80s.

The introduction of the VCR, followed by TiVo, the DVR and programs streaming on Netflix and mobile apps, allow viewers to view programs whenever they like. So even if 10 million people watch The Walking Dead, they’re not all watching at the same time.

For better or worse, new channels and new technology have abolished the communal pop culture experience that television once provided. That experience, to me, is what separates the classic TV era from our current TV age.

The times were already changing by the 1980s, but if you can't find your Betamax tapes here's a reminder of the best television of the decade.

Hill Street Blues

Though it was preceded by 30 years of cop shows, Hill Street Blues immediately looked and felt different from anything that had come before. The large, multiracial cast, the frank portrayals of sex and violence, the handheld camerawork that put viewers inside the Hill Street station, sometimes uncomfortably so, all seemed to represent a sea change in dramatic television.

Cheers

The last great workplace comedy of the classic TV era (though Taxi would also get some votes) Cheers was lucky to survive a first season where it ranked at the bottom of the ratings. Once it found an audience the series lasted more than 10 years, gracefully adapting to multiple cast changes like no other show since M*A*S*H.

Moonlighting

Sardonic and self-referential, Moonlightingwas a one-hour detective show that generated more laughs than a situation comedy. The easily-confused Television Academy steered all its Emmy nominations into the Drama category, though the series’ only real drama was whether costars Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd could coexist long enough to keep the magic fresh. They couldn’t, and it didn’t. But for three seasons Moonlighting was a masterpiece.

Roseanne

Many of the best shows of the 1980s were created by the first generation to grow up with television. Roseanne Barr, raised on sitcoms like Leave it to Beaver and The Donna Reed Show, believed it was time for a less idealized take on family life. And that’s what she delivered, though her self-titled series lost its way in later seasons.

Miami Vice

“MTV cops” was the two-word pitch that allegedly sold this sun-drenched, pastel-colored series to NBC. Parts of Miami Vice are now as badly dated as Valley girl talk and Members Only jackets, but the slick visual style of executive producer Michael Mann and Jan Hammer’s scoring both left their imprint on the crime drama genre – you can see echoes of them in shows airing today.

The Cosby Show

It’s surprising that it took this long for a family like the Huxtables to achieve mainstream acceptance. And it’s also regrettable that, without Bill Cosby’s cross-generational, cross-cultural appeal, we’ve seen no comparable heir to their success.

Star Trek: The Next Generation

Most of us who remember the build-up to this sequel were pretty sure it wasn’t going to work. Even many of the hardcore Star Trek fans were ambiguous, concerned it might soil the legacy of Gene Roddenberry’s original classic. Instead, Star Trek: The Next Generation expanded and deepened the Trek universe, paving the way for three more series.

Newhart

The inspired final episode was one of TV’s most talked-about moments, but Newhart also earns a place on this list for updating the absurdist rural archetype established by Green Acres. Just like Eddie Albert’s Oliver Douglas, Newhart’s Dick Loudon was a sane man set adrift among lunatics.

Thirtysomething

A love-it-or-hate-it show that divided generations almost as much as The Smothers Brothers, Thirtysomething was a series about baby boomer disillusionment. It struck a chord with viewers coping with the same family and career issues, but others were turned off by what they saw as self-absorbed navel-gazing.

The Golden Girls

Building a show around four senior citizens was distinctive, but in every other way The Golden Girls was as traditional as comedies get. It holds up thanks to the steadfast expertise of three TV sitcom vets, and an unknown stage actress (Estelle Getty) who consistently trumped their punch lines.

The Wonder Years

The music and the fashions and the Vietnam references set this coming-of-age series in a very specific time and place, but there was also something universal about the struggles of Kevin Arnold. One hundred years from now, adolescent boys will still identify with his sibling issues, school issues, and the agony and ecstasy of falling in love with the exquisite Winnie Cooper.

St. Elsewhere

Before St. Elsewhere, hospital shows tended toward idealized depictions of doctors and nurses. The staff of St. Eligius would make Marcus Welby cringe, and the show itself never attracted much of an audience. Fortunately, this was a time in television when quality still counted, and NBC gutted out six low-rated but magnificent seasons. The last episode, unfortunately, was a self-indulgent misstep.

Night Court

No gimmicks, no breakthroughs, no landmark episodes – just superb comedy. Stay with it through an inconsistent first season – after that it’s all good, especially in the Markie Post years.

Designing Women

Both politically charged and politically incorrect, Designing Women was a showcase for Dixie Carter’s supercharged sermonizing, Delta Burke’s entitled cluelessness, and Jean Smart’s downhome charms. But when Burke and Smart leave, you should too.

Married With Children

In the 1970s it was Soap that heralded the collapse of culture and civilization; in the 1980s that title passed to this series, one of the first on the then-new FOX network. It was comedy wielded like a blunt instrument, but it lasted ten years.

Extra Credit

For more ‘80s goodness, check out these shows as well:

Square Pegs

L.A. Law

Max Headroom

China Beach

Murphy Brown

Family Ties

There’s something remarkable about Father Knows Best. You can watch any dozen episodes and be entertained by the wholesome charms with which this 1950s sitcom is identified. And then you’ll discover a story that is so compelling in its content that you could write a term paper about it.

To some extent this is true of many shows from an era we now group into a collective memory of innocent nostalgia. To some these family situation comedies are nothing more than idealized portrayals of a traditional family that may provide a few simple pleasures, but are no longer relevant to the way we live today. Some actually find them offensive – a reactionary fantasy of a Middle America that never really existed, where Dad brings home the bacon, Mom is happily chained to her stove, and together they raise unfailingly polite kids.

Those who hold such opinions have either never watched shows like Father Knows Best or The Donna Reed Show, or they just weren’t paying attention when they did. There was far too much talent involved, both in front of and behind the camera, to create something so bland.

If certain formulas tended to repeat themselves – first dates, first jobs, eccentric neighbors and relatives, keep in mind that these are moments and rites of passage that many families experience in the non-scripted world as well.

You won’t find challenging content in most of these vintage series, but that is not a creative flaw. Consistency and predictability is an important part of their enduring appeal. I for one would never want to watch an episode of Father Knows Best in which Margaret gets cancer, or Bud is critically injured in an auto accident. I don’t want Jim to lose his job at the insurance company, and wonder how he’s going to keep up the mortgage payments. That was not why these shows were made.

But that doesn’t mean Father Knows Best can’t surprise you. Here are three remarkable episodes that skirt the comfort zone of classic television.

“Woman in the House”

Often shows like Father Knows Best seem to be set within a secure suburban bubble, immune to the confusion of the outside world. In this season two episode from 1955, some of that less settled world invades Springfield in the form of Jill Carlson, the younger and free-spirited wife of one of Jim’s oldest friends. She smokes, she talks a little too loud for the heartland, and at one point she asks Margaret if she’s ever read Kafka. Margaret, played with quiet dignity by Jane Wyatt, can barely hide her discomfort, which only deepens after Jill becomes their houseguest for a few days. At one point she breaks down, ashamed by how provincial her life seems to this strange outsider, and by her own intolerance. This being Father Knows Best, both Margaret and Jill are changed for the better through the experience, but it’s the culture clash that makes “Woman in the House” so unsettling.

“Mister Beal Meets His Match”

Betty, writing a story for college, casts her family in a new version of the Faust tale. Mysterious stranger Harry Beal sells Bud a set of books that seem to grant wishes, but you don’t get something for nothing (or at least, that was a lesson still taught in the 1950s). Jim discovers to his horror that the gifts in the books were received at the forfeiture of his children's souls. A panicked Jim offers Beal his own soul in exchange for theirs. The harrowing parts of the tale are played straighter than you might expect.

“The Bus to Nowhere”

Whatever joys and sorrows are felt by fifties sitcom characters, they still maintain a basic contentment with their lives and their place in the universe. They hold on to certain bedrock values formed by their faith and Midwestern common sense. And then there’s “The Bus to Nowhere,” in which Betty Anderson experiences full-tilt existential angst that shakes her to her core. Nothing matters to her, not even dances and dates and hayrides (man, they loved their hayrides in the ‘50s). Her family dismisses her anguish as “just a mood” and “rubbish,” but Betty is disconsolate – “I don’t know anything anymore,” she confesses. In the climax she’s at the bus station ready to go wherever her savings will take her. I won’t spoil the ending and how she finds her way back, but “The Bus to Nowhere” is worthy of study and debate in college classes devoted to philosophy and theology. It’s one of the most profound and extraordinary episodes in 1950s television.

The sad and sudden passing of James Gandolfini prompted many commentators to proclaim his most renowned character, Tony Soprano, as the greatest television character ever created. Was this merely understandable hyperbole under the circumstances, or will they still believe this to be true in six months, after the shock of Gandolfini’s death has passed?

The Sopranos is a series that would never be covered on Comfort TV. Watching it was often about as uncomfortable as television viewing gets, surpassed only in total squirm-in-your-seat moments by Dexter, American Horror Story and Pink Lady and Jeff.

It was certainly an impressive show, however, and I do believe that the name Tony Soprano will be familiar to TV fans for many generations to come. But the greatest TV character ever? I don’t think so. But I also don’t have another contender that immediately comes to mind.

There are two ways to look at this query – the first is to assess only the attributes of the character that made him or her memorable, and the talent utilized to bring that character to life. That takes into account not only the quality of the actor’s performance, but also that of the series’ writers and directors, and how consistently all of them retained a high standard throughout the run of the show.

How many television characters have been compelling from first episode to last? How many seemed to represent something unique and exciting, rather than just another TV cop, doctor, housewife, secret agent etc.?

That’s going to be a short list, and Tony Soprano would be on it, along with Mary Richards, Archie Bunker, Dr. Richard Kimble, Captain James T. Kirk, Emma Peel, Matt Dillon, Lucy Ricardo and Buffy Summers.

But there’s a second way to approach the question, and that’s by measuring the influence that a television character had beyond the fictional world in which he/she appeared. Greatness, I believe, has a lot to do with lives transformed and a positive impact on others.

So now we must also consider TV’s role models, those that idealized a profession in such a way as to steer younger viewers to emulate their career path. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor decided to become a lawyer because she was inspired by Perry Mason. NASA is filled with scientists and astronauts that grew up watching Star Trek. Dr. Mae Jemison, the first African-American female astronaut, believed she might one day make it to outer space because of Lt. Uhura.

Nichelle Nichols (left), who portrayed Lt. Uhura on Star Trek, and astronaut Mae Jemison

And that brings us to Fred Rogers, and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. He was a daily presence on television for 33 years; most of them in a pre-cable era when few children’s shows aired on weekdays other than those on PBS. He communicated with multiple generations of millions of kids, and we’ll never know how many of them were comforted by his benevolent words and gentle support.

I’m not just talking about children of divorce, or the abused kids who really needed an encouraging friend. I think about all the kids who were lonely, or ostracized because of their race or religion or how they looked. Perhaps they were too short or tall, too thin or overweight, a little slower to learn, or they just didn’t fare as well in the DNA lottery as their more popular and attractive classmates. For these children, every day at school was a reminder of what they were not.

So how do we measure the solace provided to so many by a soft-spoken neighbor who reminded them that they are special, and they can be liked just for who they are? How many kids grew up to be better parents by remembering the lessons he taught?

Fred Rogers made television a better place to visit, and no one before or since has established a more enduring bond with his audience from opposite sides of the screen. With all due respect to Tony Soprano, that’s how I measure greatness.

Longevity isn’t always a measure of quality when it comes to television (see: Step by Step). That’s especially true over the past 5-10 years when shows like Wonderfalls and Freaks and Geeks and Firefly were pulled before their time. I thought Pan Am had its moments, too.

That was not the case in the classic TV era. Back then if a series was canceled after one season it was usually for good reason. Networks were slower to go to the hook, allowing shows like The Dick Van Dyke Show and Cheers to find their audience despite low-rated first seasons.

Unfortunately, not every show was so lucky. Here are seven Comfort TV series that disappeared too quickly, but still have their fans.

My World and Welcome To It (1969)

Maybe its blend of live-action and animation was ahead of its time. Maybe its basis in the writing of James Thurber made it sound too highbrow – or maybe it was just scheduled against Gunsmoke and never had a chance. Whatever prompted its early cancellation, My World and Welcome To It is one of television’s buried treasures. Sample the clips on YouTube and see if you don’t fall under its whimsical spell.

Ellery Queen (1975)

After creating one of TV’s greatest detectives in Columbo, Richard Levinson and William Link introduced Ellery Queen to television, in the genial presence of star Jim Hutton. Set in the 1940s, the series revolved around Queen assisting his police detective father (David Wayne) on baffling murder mysteries. The high point of each episode had Hutton turning to the camera and addressing the audience at home, just before he cracked the case. “Have you figured it out?” he’d ask, before reminding us of the suspects and the most important clues. Rarely has it been more fun to match wits with the characters on screen.

Gidget (1965)

Gidget made Sally Field famous but didn’t find an audience until it was rerun over the summer, not surprising for a show about surfing under the California sun. By then the show had already been canceled, and ABC scrambled to find another vehicle for its breakout star. The best they could do was The Flying Nun, which lasted three seasons but doesn’t hold up nearly as well. For all its carefree sand and surf fun, what really made Gidget memorable was the heartfelt connection between Field and costar Don Porter, who created one of TV’s most appealing father-daughter relationships.

The Green Hornet (1966)

This Batman spin-off was played with similar visual style but less camp, and is best remembered now for Bruce Lee, who appeared opposite Van Williams as the Green Hornet’s high-kicking chauffeur, Kato. It was the first time many Americans had seen martial arts performed by a master, and the charismatic Lee insisted on authenticity in the fight choreography. Given the shortness of his subsequent film career, it would be wonderful to have more Green Hornet episodes to enjoy.

The Magician (1973)

Two magic-themed films recently opened to mixed reviews (The Incredible Burt Wonderstone and Now You See Me), and neither was one-tenth as entertaining as The Magician, starring Bill Bixby as a magic man who helps those in trouble with his powers of prestidigitation. Bixby is one of TV’s most appealing leading men, as well as a talented amateur magician. Every illusion in the series was performed with no camera tricks or special effects.

Jennifer Slept Here (1983)

Ann Jillian deserved a more substantive TV career. She got close with It’s a Living, but with all its title changes and timeslot changes and personnel changes the series never really found its footing. Jennifer Slept Here was her second shot. The high-concept premise has a family moving into a Beverly Hills mansion once owned by glamorous movie star Jennifer Farrell, now deceased. As a ghost, she appears to the family’s 14 year-old son, and helps him adjust to high school, meeting girls and life in California. Jillian elevated her material as she always did, but the show could not compete against Webster and The Dukes of Hazzard.

Tenspeed and Brown Shoe (1980)

Can too much promotion kill a TV show? I think so. I never watched Malcolm in the Middle because of the obnoxious nonstop promos that FOX aired leading up to its debut. ABC tried that same desperate strategy for Tenspeed and Brown Shoe, which teamed Ben Vereen and Jeff Goldbum as unlikely detectives. Result? Big numbers for the first episode followed by rapidly diminishing returns. Perhaps if the network had merely promised a good show rather than the landmark television event of the season, viewers would have been more patient.

Here’s another under-appreciated pleasure of classic television from the Comfort TV age: it makes places you’d never want to visit seem less terrible.

I was in the hospital recently and found nothing pleasurable about it. You’re away from your home and your bed, in a big building full of monotonous hallways and colorless rooms. You try to rest but are disturbed by the buzzes and beeps of strange machinery. And the food is worse than what they serve on Delta’s red-eye from Minneapolis to New Jersey.

But watch any popular situation comedy from the 1950s to the 1970s, and there was probably an episode featuring one of the main characters logging some hospital time. And for them, it didn’t seem so bad.

What’s the difference? Classic TV hospital stays typically begin with the patient safely ensconced in their room, skipping past the multiple blood tests, book-length insurance forms, questionnaires that ask male patients if they’ve ever been pregnant, and being asked one’s height and weight by every doctor, nurse and administrator, all of whom write down the responses but none of whom apparently share this paperwork with anyone else in the building.

Of course, the best of part of visiting a classic TV hospital is that everyone gets to leave. Healthy.

Do you have a favorite hospital episode from a classic series? Here are some of mine.

“Lucy Plays Florence Nightingale”

The Lucy Show

Lucy is a volunteer nurse at the hospital where Mr. Mooney is recovering from a broken leg. From the moment you see Mooney in his hospital bed, his injured leg suspended above him, you know he’s about to be subjected to every form of comedic torture the writers can devise. There’s also an inventively choreographed wheelchair chase that plays like something out of a classic silent movie.

“Hi!”

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

Mary has her tonsils out and gets saddled with the roommate from hell, played by the wonderful Pat Carroll. The episode is probably best remembered, at least among the show’s male viewers, for the sexy nightgown Rhoda slips into Mary’s overnight bag before she leaves for the hospital.

“That’s My Boy?”

The Dick Van Dyke Show

A flashback episode in which Rob recalls how, after Ritchie was born, he became certain that the hospital gave them the wrong baby. The final scene received the longest laugh in the history of The Dick Van Dyke Show.

“The Candy Striper”

Family Affair

Cissy gets a candy striper job and the head nurse provides only one warning – never give a patient food or drink without consulting with a doctor. And just like Gremlins, you start counting the minutes until she forgets the rule. On the verge of quitting, she returns to the hospital after a pep talk from Uncle Bill and finds a way to balance her compassion with responsibility.

“Bob Has to Have His Tonsils Out, So He Spends Christmas Eve in the Hospital”

The Bob Newhart Show

The title says it all. Bob is subjected to the indignities of peekaboo hospital gowns, Howard’s hospital horror stories, and an ancient nurse played by the veteran character actress Merie Earle, who gets a laugh with every line she utters.

“Operation: Tonsils”

The Patty Duke Show

Classic sitcom misunderstanding- Patty overhears her handsome doctor praising the trim lines and beauty of his new boat, and thinks the compliments are all for her. The doctor is played by one-time matinee idol Troy Donahue.

“And Then There Were Three”

Bewitched

Tabitha is born in this milestone second season episode, that also features the first appearance of Serena, the ever-acerbic Eve Arden as a confused nurse, and a rare moment in which Darrin and Endora are actually kind to each other.

NOTE: This post is part of Me-TV's Summer of Classic TV Blogathon hosted by the Classic TV Blog Association. Go to http://classic-tv-blog-assoc.blogspot.com to view more posts in this blogathon. You can also go to http://metvnetwork.com to learn more about Me-TV and view its summer line-up of classic TV shows.

Authority figures – particularly police officers – make a lot of us nervous. We may not be doing anything wrong but the moment we spot a police cruiser in our rear view mirror, it’s hard not to tense up.

I have always had a contentious relationship with authority, so it might seem surprising that I love Dragnet so much. But I think if all police officers were more like Sgt. Joe Friday (Jack Webb) and Officer Bill Gannon (Harry Morgan), only criminals would shun the police. The rest of us would want to buy them a cup of coffee and thank them for their service.

Dragnet is not a show about the cool renegade cops who “play by their own rules.” It’s not an action-packed series with tire-screeching car chases and guns blazing. It’s a meticulous, dialogue-driven series about two middle-aged LA police officers (played by actors whose faces will never grace a poster on a teenage girl’s wall) who show up for work every day and do their best to serve the city that pays their salary.

From 1967 to 1970, viewers tuned in to watch Friday and Gannon solve the most routine cases, while wearing the same drab suits in almost every episode. They ran down leads that didn’t pan out. They sat at their desks filling out reports. They made awkward small talk until the boss called them into his office.

Why was this so compelling? I think it starts with the authenticity and attention to detail that Jack Webb insisted on in his depiction of cops at work. Dragnet humanized the men who wear the badge, and made them admirable not because of super-heroic deeds, but through their decency, compassion and dedication.

This was also a series that sounded like nothing else on television. The unique staccato rhythm of the dialogue was often parodied in its day – some readers might remember a famous skit on The Tonight Showfeaturing Webb and Johnny Carson, and some missing copper clappers.

But it was a technique that worked, and when Friday would launch into one of his speeches about the importance of respecting the law, or the privilege of being a police officer, you feel like getting up from the couch and applauding.

One of the show’s best moments occurred in an episode called “The Big Interrogation,” when a rookie cop (played by future Adam-12star Kent McCord) is wrongfully accused of robbing a liquor store. Friday’s moving monologue on the policeman’s life should be required viewing at every police academy graduation.

It’s no wonder that real cops felt tremendous respect for Jack Webb, and the honor he brought to their profession. The Los Angeles Police Department actually retired Friday’s badge number – 714 – to acknowledge his contribution to the law enforcement community.

Viewers, too, wished more cops were like Friday. During the show’s original runthe LAPD frequently received calls asking to speak to Sgt. Friday. The response was always the same: “Sorry, it’s Joe’s day off.”

For most people an evening spent watching old television shows is something that is settled for, when more exciting activities are too costly or unavailable. But for those of us who love this stuff, it’s an entertainment option we not only prefer even when other opportunities present themselves, but also something we look forward to, sometimes all day.

Comfort TV fans all have their preferences when it comes to classic TV viewing. Some like to marathon episodes from one show, while others mix and match at random. More ambitious fans may create theme nights built around a specific writer or actor or subject.

For me, one of my favorite Comfort TV activities is to recreate an evening of television from 30 or 40 years ago. It’s a way to vicariously travel back into the past and watch the programs that people watched back then, in the order in which they watched them.

If you’d like to try it, and you have access to the DVDs or a good streaming service, here are some noteworthy retro TV nights that will bring back memories, and renew your appreciation for the consistency of quality that we used to take for granted from our television networks.

CBS: Saturday, 1973

All in the Family

M*A*S*H

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

The Bob Newhart Show

The Carol Burnett Show

This is, and most likely always will be, the best night of television ever scheduled. Spend an evening with episodes of these five classic series, all now ranked at or near the top of their respective genres, and you’ll wonder why anyone would go out on Saturday nights in 1973.

ABC: Thursday, 1964

The Flintstones

The Donna Reed Show

My Three Sons

Bewitched

Peyton Place

What makes this lineup interesting is how these shows now seem to belong to different television eras. The Donna Reed Show has a 1950s vibe, while Bewitched is definitely a classic ‘60s series. The Flintstones could have emerged from any decade, though most wouldn’t connect them historically with the year the Beatles invaded America. And Peyton Place looked forward to a time when the medium was open to more mature content.

NBC: Thursday, 1985

The Cosby Show

Family Ties

Cheers

Night Court

Hill Street Blues

One of the preeminent “must-see TV” nights of the 1980s, with some logical symmetry in the pairing of two family sitcoms followed by two workplace sitcoms, each with escalating maturity in subject matter, and capped by one of the decade’s best dramas.

ABC: Friday, 1971

The Brady Bunch

The Partridge Family

Room 222

The Odd Couple

Love American Style

Great memories here for late Baby Boomers like myself. Room 222 has not been as widely syndicated over the years as the other sitcoms in this standout ABC lineup, but it’s a brilliant show worth rediscovering on DVD. The weakest link here is Love American Style, though the diverse guest-star lineups help to offset its sophomoric sensibilities.

CBS: Wednesday, 1965

Lost in Space

The Beverly Hillbillies

Green Acres

The Dick Van Dyke Show

What seems eclectic at first actually makes perfect sense. Lost in Space and Beverly Hillbillies both deal with families coping outside of familiar environments. There’s an obvious rural connection between Hillbillies and Green Acres, and while the latter might seem incompatible with The Dick Van Dyke Show, it was actually a much smarter series than it seemed at first glance.

ABC: Tuesday, 1977

Happy Days

Laverne & Shirley

Three’s Company

Soap

Here’s an ideal retro lineup after a tough day at work, when all you want is to set your brain to autopilot and take in some lighter TV fare that does not require careful attention.

And for those that really want to recreate a retro TV night as closely as possible, if you have access to YouTube streaming on your television you can fill the gaps between episodes with commercials from the same era, or perhaps network bumpers or promos. See you in the '70s!

When I was growing up in Skokie, Illinois, and I first started to watch television and become aware of actors and their roles, it was just a given that these famous people led very different lives from mine. They lived in Hollywood and appeared on the covers of People magazine and TV Guide. You could write them a letter but you knew they received thousands of them. If you were really lucky, you might get an autographed photo in return.

Today, we’re all friends on Facebook.

So many of the TV stars I grew up watching now keep me up to date on where they had lunch yesterday, or when they land a new role. They share photos of their homes and families, and invite me to “like” the causes and organizations they do. Sometimes they even wish me Happy Birthday.

Facebook friendships are not the same as real friendships, of course. But it’s still a curious experience to remember being a kid watching Family Affair, and thinking Cissy was so beautiful, and now I send her messages and she responds, no barriers remaining between celebrity and fan.

During my first frenzied months on the social media network I sent friend requests to several of my favorites, and most responded. But then I stopped before becoming a full-fledged Facebook star collector, and now I limit myself to those that I’ve either met in real life, or where there’s some other pre-existing connection, such as a mutual friend.

These are a few of my classic TV Facebook friends. They can be yours too.

John Schneider

I first met John when I was writing my companion guide to The Dukes of Hazzard. Now he keeps trying to sell me on a fitness program. I’ll think about it over my next pizza.

Geri Reischl

Immortalized as “Fake Jan” on the legendary Brady Bunch Variety Hour, Geri has a wicked sense of humor and shares both memorable moments and the minutiae of her life with Facebook. And unlike many celebs, she doesn’t just post and run – she keeps the conversation going throughout the thread and is generous with her “likes.” She even poked me a few times, which was more fun than I expected.

Gregory Harrison

I knew Greg pre-Facebook, though not well. He and his wife, ChiPs star Randi Oakes, were once fixtures on the 1980s competitions known as the Battle of the Network Stars. I had them all on tape and sent him copies of their appearances. I also interviewed him several years ago for a magazine article I wrote on the classic miniseries Centennial. He’s a fairly frequent poster, but usually it’s about something related to politics, and he and I are on opposite ends of that particular spectrum. We’ve had some rather intense exchanges over the last few years, but no one has severed the connection yet.

Teri Copley

The first thing I discovered about Teri on Facebook is that she is a woman of very deep-rooted faith. I was 18 the year We Got it Made debuted on NBC. If you had told me I’d one day have a chance to chat with the goddess that played Mickey Mackenzie, I don’t think religion would have been my first topic of choice. Thirty years later, it’s a bond we share. And she’s still a knockout.

Willie Aames

The last time I saw Willie Aames on TV was on the dreadful VH-1 series Celebrity Fit Club, where he looked like his life was falling apart. Now he works on an international cruise ship, seems happy and healthy, and posts amazing photos from ports of call around the world.

Paul Petersen

After his days on The Donna Reed Show, Paul established an organization called A Minor Consideration to help former child stars cope with a post-celebrity existence, and to make sure studios are treating kids like kids and not investment commodities.

Shirley Jones

Mrs. Partridge isn’t around very often, and from the excerpts I’ve seen from her new biography, I don’t even want to speculate on what she’s doing when she’s not on Facebook.

Gloria Loring

I’ve never met Gloria Loring, but she sent me a friend request a couple of years ago. I don’t know how or why this happened, but if the woman who sang the theme to The Facts of Life wants to be friends, that’s fine with me.

James Best

Another Dukes of Hazzard cast member, who is now a very fine painter.

Jennifer Runyon Corman

One of the few celebrities who ignored my Friend request was Susan Olsen. But if I couldn’t connect with Cindy Brady, I did become Facebook friends with the actress who played Cindy in A Very Brady Christmas. It was a better match anyway, as it turns out we have a lot in common – we’re both from the Chicago area, we have similar opinions on the issues of the day, and we both briefly dated Scott Baio in the 1980s. That last one may not be entirely true.

The fall TV season is fast approaching, and there are moments many of us are already looking forward to experiencing. Some will surpass expectations but most will fall short, which has always been the way with television. Here are five moments from the Comfort TV era that promised much but stumbled on delivery.

Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett Team-ups

If there were a Mount Rushmore for television comediennes, Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett would be among those immortalized. But when Carol and Lucy joined forces, the magic wasn't there.

They had plenty of chances – Burnett guest-starred more than once on both The Lucy Show and Here’s Lucy, and Ball returned the favor with several appearances on Carol’s brilliant variety series. But none of their collaborations merit inclusion in a retrospective on either of their remarkable careers.

Their first team-up, in the 1966 Lucy Show episode “Lucy Gets a Roommate,” is probably the best. Carol plays a meek librarian who Lucy tries to coax out of her shell (with predictable but occasionally amusing results). I can recall only one memorable Carol Burnett Show sketch with Lucy, who clearly missed the rehearsal time she needed to perfect the comedy moments that became legendary on her own shows. In one 1969 appearance she and Carol played stewardesses on a Miami-bound plane. "Is that a Cuban accent?" Lucy asks passenger Harvey Korman. "What makes you say that?" he asks. Replies Lucy, "If there's one thing I know, sir, it's a Cuban accent!" That line earned the biggest laugh of the episode.

Rescue from Gilligan’s Island

This one should have been a no-brainer. Gilligan’s Islandwas a syndication staple after its three year run ended in 1967, and there was obvious unfinished business with the castaways still stuck in their bamboo paradise in the final episode.

Closure was finally achieved in the 1978 TV movie Rescue fromGilligan’s Island, which reunited the original cast except for Tina Louise. The timing was perfect; ten years of build-up was just right, and the cast still looked enough like their characters so their reunion would be nostalgic and uplifting, rather than desperate and sad.

The movie earned an amazing 52 share of the audience, so it was undoubtedly a success in every way except creatively. If anything, Rescue was even dumber and more juvenile than an average episode of the series. One sequence with Gilligan paddling around in the water with a shark seems to go on for hours. Worse, its popularity paved the way for The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island, an even greater atrocity that featured the unforgettable image of Lovie Howell face-guarding Sweet Lou Dunbar.

Diana Rigg in a Sitcom

I love Diana Rigg. She is in that very, very rare class of performers who can take an ordinary line of dialogue and make it compelling by sheer force of personal magnetism. Kate Jackson has it, as does Michael J. Fox and a select few others – maybe that will be a future blog topic.

Following her transcendent work in The Avengers (look it up, kids – this is the one without Iron Man) Rigg signed up to star in an American sitcom (for the paycheck, she later admitted), as a British divorcee who moves to New York to start a new life and a new career as a fashion coordinator at Butley’s Department Store.

Diana (1973) was not a terrible sitcom, but it was terribly conventional and, well, boring. Which is even more unexpected for a show with such a vivacious leading lady. It was canceled before the end of its first season.

Police Squad!

The success of the Airplane! films established the joke-a-minute formula of writer/directors David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker, and the deadpan brilliance of actor Leslie Nielsen. But it was an approach that didn’t translate to television. Police Squad! debuted on ABC in 1982, and was canceled after just four of its six episodes aired.

Fans still remember this as a great miscarriage of justice (TV Guide ranked it #7 on their 2013 list of TV shows that were canceled too soon). But I kinda get why it didn’t work. The scattershot approach that made the films so unique became formulaic on the series – several jokes were repeated in every episode, such as the episode title on screen being different than what the announcer read, the faux ‘freeze frame’ behind the closing credits, and the murder of a “special guest star” at the beginning of each show.

Also, TV standards and practices being what they were in the 1980s, the show did not have the same leeway with the subtly risqué content that contributed to the best moments in the Naked Gun movies, which were inspired by the series.

Barbara Eden on Dallas

While the timing was right for Rescue From Gilligan’s Island, it was not so fortuitous for another classic TV couple.

By the time Jeannie blinked her way into Ewing Oil, Dallas was limping through its 14th and final season. Viewers had already endured Bobby’s shower resurrection, a trip to Russia for no apparent reason, and the escalating embarrassment of Sasha Mitchell’s attempts to act. No one cared anymore and that apparently included the writers, who introduced Eden as corporate raider LeeAnn De La Vega. She went after J.R.’s company because – wait for it – he had jilted her in college. Really? Two TV icons and that’s the best they could do?

I’m in a very perturbed mood at the moment, which is not conducive to reflections on Comfort TV. However, it’s ideal for discussing the Emmy Awards. This year’s ceremony is approaching, and I am already looking forward to my annual tradition of ignoring it completely.

There was a time when I loved the Emmys, from the moment the nominations were announced to the awards show itself, which paid due homage to the television of generations past while honoring the best shows and performances from the previous year.

My Emmy disenchantment was a gradual phenomenon, that escalated as I watched brilliant, critically-acclaimed shows go virtually ignored (The Gilmore Girls, Buffy the Vampire Slayer), and the same actors win almost every year while equally deserving performances were overlooked. You can read more about this in last year’s Emmy rant.

But my biggest gripe with the Emmys, and one I acknowledge I am almost alone in expressing, is the placement of network shows and cable shows in the same categories. I don’t believe it is fair, and as a result of this iniquity cable shows now dominate in both nominations and wins.

Network television broadcasts are still regulated by the Federal Communications Commission, and are limited by standards and restrictions implemented by that government agency. We won’t debate here whether that is still appropriate or necessary (I think it is) – it means that the networks have to play by different rules.

Networks also have to select the programs they choose to air with an eye toward a larger viewing audience. HBO’s Girls draws about 800,000 to 1 million viewers, and it’s hailed as a hit. If a network series pulled that number it would be canceled.

Cable’s Emmy dominance, and the edgier fare it offers, have caused many to dismiss network television as boring and uninspired, a dinosaur on the path to extinction. Whether that prognosis proves accurate or not, network television still draws more viewers than cable TV, but its shows are not recognized by the Emmys because of the perception that all the good stuff is on cable.

Why is any of this important? Because one of the ways we recognize that the television of decades past is worth celebrating and preserving is the number of Emmys these shows received. Even shows like Bewitchedthat did not receive a lot of Emmys were nominated often, an acknowledgment that the series was among the best situation comedies of its era.

Today’s network TV shows have largely been denied that measuring stick of achievement, because Emmy nominations and statues are going to shows on cable by at least a 3:1 margin.

My solution is to create two categories – broadcast Emmys and cable Emmys. It’s not so far-fetched, as we already have separate Emmy presentations for daytime shows and for local market productions. And there would be no shortage of competition, with eligible shows from four networks plus PBS and the CW.

Let’s look at just one category as an example – Best Actor in a Drama Series. This year’s nominees are Bryan Cranston (Breaking Bad), Hugh Bonneville (Downton Abbey), Damian Lewis (Homeland), Kevin Spacey (House of Cards), Jon Hamm (Mad Men) and Jeff Daniels (The Newsroom).

That’s one network show, four from cable, and one from however you want to classify Netflix. If there was a separate category for broadcast TV, that would make room for equally deserved nominations for Nathan Fillion (Castle), Charles Esten (Nashville), Michael Emerson (Person of Interest), Jonny Lee Miller (Elementary) or John Noble (Fringe).

In the pre-cable era, all of these performances would have been nominated, along with Megan Hilty in Smash, and Madeleine Stowe in Revenge, and Dana Delaney in Body of Proof. You can find just as many deserving and overlooked candidates in the comedy categories.

Would an Emmy nomination for Dennis Quaid have saved Vegasfrom early cancellation? It was Emmy nominations that once convinced viewers to try a sitcom call Cheers that finished dead last in the ratings after its first season. Today, it would have been shunned for shows like Veepand Enlightened and Louie and Girls, and it would have disappeared, remembered only as another failed network newbie.

Just another reason why I won’t be watching the Emmys this year.

Memory is a curious and unpredictable thing. I can recall few specific moments from 25 or 30 years ago, but I still hold on to an assortment of seemingly random recollections that are as vivid now as if they just happened yesterday.

In 1980 I watched the annual anniversary episode of The Tonight Show. These, you may recall, were always special shows featuring clips from the series’ long and illustrious history. After it was over I distinctly recall lying in bed that night and thinking, “What are we all going to do when Johnny Carson retires?”

That such a question would even occur to anyone is suggestive of the central place Carson long occupied in our popular culture. There had been plenty of shows I liked that were canceled or that ended their runs, and it was sad but hardly traumatic. Losing Johnny Carson was something else entirely.

For more than 30 years The Tonight Show was America’s national night-light. There may have been fights over the remote during prime time but anyone still awake at 11:30, 10:30 central, was almost certainly watching NBC, as Carson emerged from behind that rainbow-colored curtain for a monologue that was funny when the jokes worked and even funnier when they didn’t.

If there is an overriding theme that runs through my blog, it’s the celebration of an era in television that was shared more intimately than it is now, and a reminder of how those shared experiences seemed to bring us closer together as a generation and as a nation. No one personified that unity more than Johnny Carson.

We’ve had no shortage of late-night talk show hosts over the last two decades, some quite brilliant in their own right, but none have approached Carson’s eminence. There wasn’t any part of the job that he had not mastered – effortless class and charisma, quick wit, perfect comic timing, the sketches and his staple of recurring characters (Art Fern was genius every time), and how he adapted his interviewing style to present each guest in the best possible light, whether it was Bob Hope, Madonna, or a woman from Nebraska with a collection of oddly-shaped potato chips.

But it’s the nightly monologue that most defined Carson’s preeminent position as a commentator on current events, and a national barometer on the issues of the day. There was no agenda behind the jokes accept for the crafting of a solid punch line. When the Democrats where in charge, they got skewered. When the Republicans took over, they got it too.

Back then, the perception was that all of us, the regular folks, were on one side, and the dopes we elected into office were on the other side. Now, it’s more about my dopes vs. your dopes. David Letterman was still making nightly Sarah Palin jokes two years after she and John McCain lost the election. It doesn’t matter if you liked her or not, that was lazy. And it was something that Carson, Letterman’s idol, would never do.

We are so divided now on political and social issues. Television, which used to connect us apart from these conflicts, now fuels these divisions more than any other source, save perhaps the Internet.

Johnny Carson, like Will Rogers in an earlier era, united people by pointing out the absurdity inherent even in the best type of government, and by deflating the pomposity of our most prominent public servants. I know John Stewart now fulfills that role for many, but there’s more anger in his attitude that bemusement. Perhaps that is fitting for our times.

The Tonight Show continued after Carson, of course, with Jay Leno as host. The circumstances surrounding his appointment over David Letterman left a bitter taste for some that resulted in yet another rivalry for us to argue about.

And so I return to the original question I asked in 1980: “What are we all going to do when Johnny Carson retires?” Now I know the answer. I wish I didn’t.

Being a villain back in the Comfort TV era was not an easy gig. It’s hard to create a genuine air of menace when television was less compliant about sadistic violence and provocative language. Plus, TV being TV, the hero was going to win eventually because if he (or she) didn’t, the show would be over.

Still, some evildoers managed to put a scare into us, at least for an episode or two. I’ll post my list of the most intimidating Comfort TV villains sometime closer to Halloween, when we’re all in the mood for a good fright. But here, let’s look at seven vanilla villains who never forced anyone to sleep with the lights on.

Louis the Lilac

Batman

It was not surprising that Batman’s third season was it’s last, after two episodes in which the Dynamic Duo pitted their crime fighting skills against Milton Berle as Louis the Lilac. Louie wanted to control the minds of Gotham City hippies – not much of a plan as most of the hippies’ minds were already in an altered state. Sure, he once captured Batgirl, but then everybody captured Batgirl. She got tied up more than Nell Fenwick on Dudley Do-Right.

Rogan

The Adventures of Superman

It’s hard to scare viewers at home if their first reaction is to bust out laughing. But that’s what happened in “The Perils of Superman,” one of the more memorable episodes of the classic 1950s Superman series. What other reaction is possible when you see master criminal Rogan and his two henchmen, garbed in identical business suits and giant bullet-shaped lead headpieces? The show also contained some hilariously ridiculous dialogue; when the gang captures Clark Kent and tells him he will be lowered into a vat of acid, Kent protests, “But…that’s illegal!”

The Kandyman

Doctor Who

This venerable sci-fi series was clearly on the last gasp of its original run when it introduced a sugarcoated robot in a story called “The Happiness Patrol.” The Kandyman was one of far too many low points from the snakebitten Sylvester McCoy era.

The Jennifer Darling Fembot

The Bionic Woman

Jennifer Darling was a petite, winsome actress who specialized in playing plucky secretaries – first to Oscar Goldman on The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman, later to Tom Bradford on Eight is Enough. Even her name should be listed in Roget’s as a synonym for adorable. So when she tries to suggest lethal menace as a super-strong killer robot, it’s like watching someone be attacked by Kristin Chenoweth.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink

Hogan’s Heroes

Mel Brooks proved that Nazis could be funny as long as they are utterly toothless and incompetent. That description certainly applies to the Kommandant of Stalag 13. Klink was an embarrassment to his allies and a joke to his adversaries, and probably did more than General Eisenhower to help the Germans lose World War II. Werner Klemperer’s inspired portrayal of Klink earned him two Emmy Awards for Best Supporting Actor.

Mariposa

Wonder Woman

Diminutive, mild-mannered Henry Gibson, garbed in a shiny purple jumpsuit, plays the ruler of a tiny island nation, who kidnaps the world’s top athletes and blackmails them into competing under his flag at the Olympics. This frankly insane episode was called “Screaming Javelins” and also featured Melanie Chartoff as a Russian gymnast and Rick Springfield as her boyfriend. Gibson’s take on Mariposa must be seen to be believed – he’s like some twisted offspring of Liberace and Julian Assange.

Glitter Rock

ElectraWoman and DynaGirl

I have a confession – if I were forced to spend my remaining days on a desert island and could only take a handful of television shows with me, one of them would be this typically eccentric Sid & Marty Krofft creation – an episode pitting ElectraWoman and DynaGirl against a green-afroed rock musician who hypnotized people with his guitar. Check out the photo - even Freddie Mercury thinks this guy needs to tone it down. As a villain Glitter Rock wasn’t much. As a symbol of everything that was wonderful and terrible about the 1970s, he was unforgettable.

To the casual viewer of baby boom-era cartoons, Josie and the Pussycats was just one more Scooby-Doo facsimile to emerge from the Hanna-Barbera factory.

But despite a fleeting 16-episode run the series was actually a trailblazer on multiple fronts, and has maintained a high degree of name recognition more than 40 years after its debut, certainly more so than similar H-B series like Jabber Jaw or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kids.

Prominent female vocal groups date back to the 1950s, but girls that sang and played their own instruments? That was unprecedented in 1970 when the series debuted. Before the Go-Gos, the Bangles or the Runaways there was the Pussycats, feminist pop-rock pioneers.

Also rarely seen in 1970 – a cartoon series with an African-American character. Valerie banged the tambourines in Josie’s power trio, and was never depicted as a stereotype. In fact, she was the smartest member of the gang.

As any comic book fans knows, Josie and her Pussycats predate the Hanna-Barbera series by nearly a decade. They were created by Dan DeCarlo, one of the most talented artists of comics’ Golden Age. Though artists were not always credited by publishers back then, fans of Archie books always knew DeCarlo’ s pencils on sight, because no one ever drew a more enticing Betty and Veronica.

Josie first appeared in Archie’s Pals & Gals #23, published in 1962. DeCarlo modeled her on his wife Josette, who sported the same red bouffant hairstyle with blue hair bow. Josie was spun off into her own series the following year, joined by Melody and many of the other characters featured in the animated series.

For the first few years they were just another group of Riverdale teenagers. But then Dan and Josette DeCarlo went on a cruise to the West Indies, and one night there was a costume party. Dan dressed like a big game hunter, and Josette dressed like a cat with a leopard skin top, feline ears and a tail. Inspiration struck, and DeCarlo added a new element to the comic, renamed Josie and the Pussycats.

When it was adapted for television, the result was more Hanna-Barbera than Archie. Alan was a buffer version of Fred from Scooby-Doo. Alexander, voiced by Casey Kasem, was just as cowardly as Shaggy but with slightly better fashion sense. The stories likewise were right out of the “meddlin’ kids” playbook with a chase scene climax set to music, a custom that began in the second season of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?

The difference was that in Josie the songs were much more than bland bubblegum filler. Since this would be a series about a rock band, the studio opted to take the musical component seriously.

Janet Waldo (Josie), Jackie Joseph (Melody) and Barbara Pariot (Valerie) supplied the Pussycats’ voices for the series. But for the songs professional singers were recruited, starting with Patrice Holloway, a talented R&B vocalist and the sister of Motown star Brenda Holloway. As a teenager, Patrice co-wrote the Blood, Sweat & Tears hit “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy.” As a Pussycat, she sang lead on many of the group’s best songs, including “Every Beat of My Heart.”

The other singing Pussycats were voiced by Cathy Dougher, a classically-trained vocalist, and Cherie Moor, who later joined another sexy trio under her married name of Cheryl Ladd.

The original plan was to include a live-action performance with Holloway, Dougher and Moor at the end of each series episode. How that might have changed the popularity or legacy of the show is anyone’s guess. However, they did appear on the cover of the group’s one and only album, released in 1970 and now going for big bucks on eBay.

Personally I think it’s a pretty terrific record (the songs have also been released on a Rhino CD, but that too is now out of print and pretty expensive). There’s a nice mix of the original songs featured on the show, with first-rate covers of The Carpenters’ “Close to You,” Bread’s “It Don’t Matter to Me,” Bobby Sherman’s “La La La” and the Jackson 5’s “I’ll Be There.”

My favorite Josie and The Pussycats song is “Inside, Outside, Upside Down,” a sunburst of glistening pop which I first owned on a 45 record, after sending in box tops from Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes. Loved it then, love it now.

Following the original series, Hanna-Barbera created Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space, a passable but pale imitation of its predecessor. By then the music was no longer a priority, and it showed. The animated characters made one other appearance, in an episode of The New Scooby-Doo Movies.

But that still wasn’t the end of the Pussycats tail…er, tale. In 1995, Juliana Hatfield and Belly lead singer Tanya Donelly covered the Josie theme on the CD Saturday Morning. “I can’t say that Josie and the Pussycats is the reason I picked up a guitar,” Donelly said, “but I think the show contributed some Saturday morning positive reinforcement to a generation of potential female musicians.”

And in 2001, a film version was released starring Rachael Leigh Cook as Josie, Rosario Dawson as Valerie and Tara Reid as Melody. It flopped, but give it a chance if you missed it. It’s actually a pretty smart satire on the commercialization of music, and songs like “3 Small Words” are worthy editions to the Pussycats legacy.

Josie and the Pussycats make me happy. And that’s what comfort TV is supposed to do. Rock on, cats.

It is in our nature to wonder about the future. What will we be able to do in 20 or 50 years that we can’t do now? How will society change? How will technology evolve?

So it’s not surprising that these speculations often found their way into television, obviously within the science fiction genre but also in comedies, dramas and animated series. One of the more fascinating aspects of watching classic television is looking at how the future was viewed by the shows of the past, now that that “future” has come and gone.

How was the brave new world of the 1980s envisioned by people in the 1950s? There was an episode of The Donna Reed Show called “Explorers Ten,” in which Jeff and his friends form a club to talk about space exploration. A college astronomy professor tells the group that man will soon land on the moon, but there is a good chance that in their lifetimes the teenagers of the club will not just walk on the moon, they might visit Mars and Venus as well. Apparently they were pretty optimistic in the 1950s and early ‘60s. Hopefully that professor never got tenure.

Whenever a television series tried to depict the future, the two areas they always guessed on – and always got wrong – were couture and computers.

Why were the television writers of 50-60 years ago so certain that future generations would all want to dress in identical pajamas or one-piece jumpsuits? We’ve lost a lot of occupations to progress – gas station attendants, switchboard operators, milkmen – but fashion designer has not been one of them.

Computers have been around as long as television, and many accurately predicted they would become more sophisticated. But the assumption was always that they would have to be bigger to do so. Whenever you see a computer in a comfort TV series, it will always be an enormous floor model with a lot of blinking lights and two large spinning reels at the top. And if a character on the show asks the computer a question, it will respond either with a hokey electronic voice, made by an actor pinching his nose when he talks, or with a card that drops out of a slot after a cacophony of beeps like we used to hear on Mattel Electronic Football.

In retrospect, it is surprising that no one associated computer technology advancement with machines that would become smaller.

The sole exception to television’s poor track record at prognostication was Star Trek. The original Enterprise crew used communicators that resemble the cell phones we use now, and the diagnostic medical beds in Dr. McCoy’s sickbay have also been developed. On Star Trek: The Next Generation you will often see characters carrying communication tablets that perform many of the same functions our iPads do. With the advances now being made in 3D printing, even replicators may become reality.

Star Trek, of course, is the dream of what our future might look like. The nightmare can be experienced in any number of post-apocalyptic series, from Ark II and Planet of the Apes to Jericho and Revolution. And if you look at any list of shows set in the future, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of middle ground. We will either live in a futuristic fantasy world like The Jetsons, or be foraging for scraps in a primitive wasteland.

Neither one has happened yet. And given our genius for invention and our genius for stupidity, the future could still go either way. But look on the bright side – even if we find ourselves in the worst case scenario described in Ark II, at least we’ll have jet packs and chimpanzee scientists – not the worst tradeoff for Armageddon.

Sometime around 1995, Halloween hijacked the month of October. Last year, with the exception on one Munsters vs. Addams piece, Comfort TV sat out this annual tradition. But this year I’ve caught the spirit and will be offering recommendations on some classic Halloween episodes and some off-the-wall holiday specials.

This week, let’s take a look at five Comfort TV episodes that, while not specifically Halloween-themed, were still more frightening than a Miley Cyrus video.

“Living Doll”

The Twilight Zone

Choosing just one episode of The Twilight Zone for a piece on unsettling television is like trying to choose the worst episode of Small Wonder. There are just too many exceptional nominees. But even among such classic stories as “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” “Long Distance Call,” “The After Hours,” “Twenty Two” and “Eye of the Beholder,” the TZ story that lingered longest in my memory was “Living Doll.” Telly Savales played the abusive stepfather to a little girl who had a doll named Talky Tina. And Tina did not like Telly.

Do we need spoilers for a 50 year-old episode? If you haven’t seen it but are familiar with the Child’s Play movies, you probably have some idea where the story is going. Savales’s heightened desperation, an ominous Bernard Herrmann score and the voice of June Foray as Tina create an escalating mood of tension that plays with the viewer’s loyalties. We enjoy watching the mean old stepdad get his, but the zinger at the end of the episode suggests that Tina may have already chosen her next victim.

“Twilight Town”

Bonanza

As the title suggests, “Twilight Town,” seems inspired by The Twilight Zone. The episode opens with Little Joe (Michael Landon) being knocked unconscious by a horse thief, and wandering into the mysterious town of Martinville. At first, he thinks the town long abandoned, but gradually Joe discovers he is not alone. After being nursed back to health, he is urged to become Martinville’s new sheriff.

The scares come not from quick cuts to frightening images, but from the slow realization of being trapped in a nightmare, in which everything seems normal on the surface but not quite right if you look a little closer. The climax seems to provide a logical explanation for what happens to Joe, but then there’s a little twist at the end that blurs the line between what’s real and imaginary.

“Fright Night”

The Brady Bunch

Whether it was building houses of cards, or Greg running against Marsha for class president, the “boys vs. the girls” episodes of The Brady Bunch usually ranked among the series’ best. Here, a ghost in the backyard frightens Jan and Cindy. They later discover that their brothers created it. The three very lovely girls plot their revenge and the usual hijinks ensue.

Maybe some suspension of disbelief is required to believe that the cellophane ghost rising from the trunk could really be that terrifying. But the attic sequence is certainly fun, and there’s an amusing climax when all six kids put their differences aside and team up to scare Alice. Also, watch for Maureen McCormick’s amusingly unsuccessful attempt to pronounce the word “werewolves.”

“The Ghost of A. Chantz”

The Dick Van Dyke Show

A reservation glitch at a mountain cabin lands Rob, Laura, Buddy and Sally in the same isolated cottage for one night, and strange things start to happen. Some of the scares are surprisingly intense for a breezy sitcom, particularly the sinister faces that appear in the mirrors.

Morey Amsterdam plays the Lou Costello role to perfection, and the mystery is resolved in an unexpected and satisfying manner.

“Assignment #1”

Sapphire and Steel

There were just six episodes, aired between 1979 and 1982, but the British sci-fi series Sapphire and Steel still retains a loyal cult following, and has just been released for a second time on DVD. David McCallum and Joanna Lumley, both better known for other TV roles, play inter-dimensional agents assigned to correct any unnatural breaks in the timeline.

In the atmospheric first episode, Sapphire (Lumley) and Steel (McCallum) arrive at a remote 18^thcentury farmhouse to help two children whose parents have disappeared. The story unfolds over six half-hour episodes in which the two leads remain stubbornly enigmatic, and even brusque with the frightened kids they are ostensibly there to aid. The story is deliberately paced, which is usually a polite way of saying ‘slow.’ But if you have the patience for Jon Pertwee era Doctor Who, and don’t mind rudimentary visual effects in the service of intriguing stories and characters, the eerie, foreboding tone that emanates from this tale will draw you under its spell.

Next week, I’ll look at five memorable episodes that were directly inspired by All Hallow’s Eve.

Okay, change of plans.

Originally I intended to recommend five Halloween-themed episodes of comfort TV, and save Halloween specials for next week. But then I watched The Paul Lynde Halloween Special, and I can’t wait any longer to talk about it.

Sometimes you have to listen to your heart – or whatever vital organ responds most intensely to really, really weird television.

Let’s hop into the WABAC machine and set the dial for 1976. This was the golden age of holiday specials, when Bing Crosby, Perry Como and Dean Martin were always there to wish us a Merry Christmas, and Kraft would unveil new holiday recipes rich in processed cheese during every commercial break.

Paul Lynde decided to jump the competition by saluting Halloween, and cut out the middleman by integrating processed cheese into the actual show. The result is not Star Wars Holiday Special bad, but like that iconic disaster it has moments for which the only rational response is utter bewilderment.

We fade up on our confused host in a Santa Claus suit trimming a Christmas tree, followed by similar vignettes themed to Easter and Valentine’s Day. We then segue into an opening monologue that achieves the near impossible – making the usually hilarious Paul Lynde not funny.

That leads, as it always does in these specials, to a big dance number. Paul reprises the song he introduced on Broadway in Bye, Bye Birdie– “Kids” – with new Halloween-themed lyrics. The troupe of dancers is garbed in traditional Halloween costumes, including one of the creepiest looking clowns since Pennywise in Stephen King’s It.

The number ends with Paul getting dumped into a trashcan by Donny and Marie Osmond. And we’re not even at the weird stuff yet.

In the next scene Paul and his maid, played by Margaret Hamilton, arrive at the home of Margaret’s sister – Billie Hayes in full Witchiepoo makeup. That prompts Hamilton to don the costume of the character she made legendary – the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. Watching these two witches trade punch lines is a remarkable event that will be savored by classic film and television fans.

They are then joined by Miss Halloween of 1976 – Betty White – which somehow leads to Paul getting three wishes. His first wish, surprisingly, is to be a truck driver. Thus Paul is transformed into Ruby the Rhinestone Trucker, complete with costume from Liberace’s closet, for a series of CB radio jokes opposite Tim Conway. It is during this bit that both discover they are engaged to the same diner waitress, played by – wait for it – Roz “Pinky Tuscadero” Kelly.

And just when you think this show could not possibly get any better, Margaret Hamilton suggests some quiet chamber music, and out comes KISS, in full makeup, to rip through an energetic (if lip-synched) “Detroit Rock City.”

Paul’s second wish is to be a wealthy sheik. In a flash he is transported to the Sahara Desert where he romances Florence Henderson, who by this time was wondering if she’ll ever be cast in a love scene opposite a straight actor.

For his third wish, Paul offers to take his two witchy friends anywhere they wish to go. Turns out the two hags have always dreamed about seeing a real Hollywood disco. Paul knows all about Hollywood discos (you bet he does), and we’re off to our final stop. Florence Henderson returns for a disco version of “That Old Black Magic” and suddenly I was having Brady Bunch Variety Hourflashbacks. All that was missing was Fake Jan.

As the festivities wind down, Paul says “Thank you for inviting us into your homes,” back when people said stuff like that on TV and made it sound sincere. And as the band cues up “Disco Lady,” viewers can only gaze in wonder at the assemblage of talent gathered for the finale; there’s Paul in his sparkly tuxedo, flanked by KISS and the Wicked Witch of the West. And there’s Pinky Tuscadero, Witchiepoo, Billy Barty and Mrs. Brady.

Savor that sight, because that’s what 1970s television was, kids – performers from different generations and genres inexplicably swept into each other’s orbits on a bizarre Pacific Princess cruise that we hoped would never end.

The Paul Lynde Halloween Special is available on DVD, and also on YouTube. Watch it. Study it. Make it a part of your holiday celebration. And if you’re still stuck for a Halloween costume, look no further for inspiration.

And now, after our detour last week into the bizarre world of the Paul Lynde Halloween Special, here are five more traditional Halloween shows to enhance your holiday celebration.

“Halloween”

The Facts of Life

Was Edna’s Edibles inspired by Sweeney Todd? The Eastland girls begin to wonder if the ghost of the murderous Grisly Gertie has possessed Mrs. Garrett, especially after a kindly old man disappears from her kitchen. Did he become the secret ingredient in her famous Halloween bratwurst? Oh, if only they actually went there, and then used Edna’s hidden lust for homicide to explain the season one departures of Nancy, Sue Ann, Molly and Cindy.

One of the trick-or-treating kids in this episode (the little girl dressed like Gretel from Hansel and Gretel) was played by Stefanie Ridel, who grew up to become a rock star in the band Wild Orchid, and later a television writer who penned three episodes of Hannah Montana.

“The One With the Halloween Party”

Friends

So much to like here – Monica as Catwoman confronting Phoebe, dressed as Supergirl; Lisa Kudrow reprising Phoebe’s vacuous sister, Ursula, and Ursula’s fiancé being played by Sean Penn, a reminder of just how prominent this series was in its heyday. And as with The Facts of Life we have yet another unexpected Hannah Montana connection – one of the trick-or-treaters here is played by Emily Osment.

A mid-episode discussion about which friends could beat up which other friends ends in an arm-wrestling match between Ross and Chandler, that will be familiar to anyone who has ever watched the series’ blooper reels. Note the very quick close-up of Chandler’s face – that’s the most they could salvage after several blown takes.

“Twitch or Treat”

Bewitched

Halloween was a natural inspiration for Bewitched, which featured several holiday- themed episodes. This season 3 effort was my favorite thanks to the appearance of Uncle Arthur, who always brings out Samantha’s mischievous side. Watch how gleefully she participates in bamboozling her Councilman (summoned by Mrs. Kravitz, of course) before he can crash Endora’s Halloween party.

Best moments: Arthur heckling Endora’s recitation of “Twas the Night Before Halloween,” and a cameo from baseball legend Willie Mays, who was outed as a warlock but still made the Hall of Fame.

“Halloween With the Addams Family”

The Addams Family

Every day is Halloween at the Addams residence, but the actual holiday always brings special surprises – in this case, two escaped bank robbers who take refuge in the Addams’ home until the coast is clear. After dodging the family lion and bobbing for live crabs, they realize they’d be safer in jail. Don Rickles plays one of the crooks.

What I love about the Addams family is how gracefully they treat every guest, regardless of the often-horrified reactions to their hospitality. Despite their eccentricities they remain one of the kindest and most open-minded families ever depicted on television.

“The Gift of Life”

Wings

Wings remained consistently entertaining right through in its eighth and final season, and “The Gift of Life” is an underrated episode from an underrated series. When a medical courier leaves a cooler in the Nantucket airport, brothers Joe and Brian believe it contains a heart scheduled for transplant into a prominent politician. Actually, it contains an entirely different substance, to be used in the insemination of a horse.Best moment: The Hackett boys burst into a Boston hospital and announce, “Out of our way – what we have here belongs in a United States Senator!”

Classic TV 101: The 1950s

Classic TV 101: The 1960s

Classic TV 101: The 1970s

Classic TV 101: The 1980s

Breaking 1950s Conventions on Father Knows Best

Reflections on Tony Soprano – and Mr. Rogers

One and Done: Seven Short-Lived Series Worth Remembering

Checking Into Comfort TV Hospital

Friday on My Mind: Dragnet

Classic Retro TV Nights

Comfort TV Facebook Connections

Five Television Moments That Should Have Been Better

Emmys, Schmemmys

Why We Still Miss Johnny Carson

The 7 Least Intimidating Comfort TV Villains

Neat, Sweet, Groovy Songs: The Remarkable Story of Josie and the Pussycats

Comfort TV Goes Back to the Future

(Dis)Comfort TV: Classic Halloween #1

(Dis)Comfort TV #2: The Inspired Insanity of The Paul Lynde Halloween Special

(Dis)Comfort TV #3: Five Classic Comfort TV Halloween Episodes