Comfort TV

Today begins the celebration of Chinese New Year. As we welcome the Year of the Monkey I’d like to share some thoughts about Chinese contributions to the classic TV era.

One of the accusations often lodged against television from the 1950s-1970s is its lack of diversity. And this grievance is not without merit. However, it’s a condemnation that can also be taken too far, when it is exaggerated into accusations of racial stereotyping where they do not exist – or at the very least, were not intended.

There is no escaping the reality that back then many prominent Chinese TV characters were domestics: Hop Sing, the family cook on Bonanza; Hey Boy, the hotel porter that brings Paladin his messages on Have Gun Will Travel; Peter Tong, Bentley Gregg’s houseboy on Bachelor Father; Kato, the Green Hornet’s chauffeur.

Fair enough. But Peter Tong was in many ways the more responsible parental figure to Bentley’s daughter, and Kato (played by Bruce Lee) was a more charismatic character than his employer. When kids reenacted the previous night’s episode of The Green Hornet in the school playground, everybody wanted to be Kato.

Bonanzaand Have Gun Will Travel were set in the American west in the 1800s, so the portrayals were historically accurate. The Bonanza episode “The Lonely Man” acknowledged the legal biases against Asians that existed at the time. And “Hey Boy’s Revenge,” from season 1 of Have Gun Will Travel, condemned the exploitation of the Chinese immigrants who built the railroads. Its message was so eloquently delivered that the show made TV Guide’s 1997 list of the 100 Greatest TV Episodes.

I probably should not admit this, as it may result in being sentenced to a week of cultural sensitivity training, but when I began ruminating on the topic of Chinese people in classic TV the first thing that came to my mind was this:

No company would dare run that commercial in our more “enlightened” era because the Chinese couple own a laundry, which some would classify as a stereotype.

But whether it’s my own naiveté or just the way I was raised, where others look at this commercial and see racism, I see an appealing young couple that owns their own business. And the “ancient Chinese secret” line is clearly tongue-in-cheek, its cultural grandiosity irreparably punctured by the Calgon revelation at the end. It’s a cute and clever spot, which is why it’s still so fondly recalled decades later.

Yes, laundries were traditionally associated with the Chinese in America, as discrimination forced them to turn to self-employment because other jobs were not available. This is what immigrants used to do in this country – in the face of unfair treatment and prejudice they found a niche and made it work until other opportunities presented themselves. How is that anything but admirable?

By the 1970s, when the Calgon ad debuted, Chinese-Americans could be found in all walks of life – yes, including the laundry business. I guess to some arbiters of inclusion this was like sending African-Americans back to the plantation. I don’t believe that is a fair comparison.

Now, I will concede that this was a time when there were not as many opportunities for Asian actors, even in roles that should have been a no-brainer. Why was David Carradine playing a Chinese monk in Kung Fu?

The series was a success and he imbued the character of Caine with dignity, but this type of bigoted casting was an unfortunate holdover from the era when John Wayne played Gengis Khan.

When Hanna-Barbera created The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan, Asian actors were hired to voice the famed detective’s ten children; but some were recast after their accents were deemed too difficult to understand. Thus, the role of Anne Chan originally played by Leslie Kumamota was ultimately performed by that lovely lotus blossom Jodie Foster.

A few actors overcame the barriers, and once they did they were rarely out of work. When a sitcom required a Chinese character, or an urban detective series set a story in Chinatown, astute TV fans figured this was probably a job for James Hong.

Even a cursory overview of Hong’s 400+ credits would require a separate blog entry; he was everywhere in the Comfort TV era: Dragnet, Peter Gunn, Perry Mason, The Donna Reed Show, The Man From UNCLE, Gomer Pyle, Family Affair, Mission: Impossible, The Bob Newhart Show, All in the Family, Charlie’s Angels, Taxi…it’s an extraordinary list. But you may recall him most readily as the maitre’d in the classic Seinfeld episode “The Chinese Restaurant” (“Cartwright!”).

The roles were not always varied – or distinguished – but Hong was a true pro, whether playing a fortune teller on I Spy or Billy Joe Fong on The Dukes of Hazzard. At age 86 he’s not only still with us but still acting.

When Hong was booked a few other actors also managed to find work: Keye Luke voiced Detective Chan in the Chan Clan series, and may be best known to TV fans as Master Po on Kung Fu. Robert Ito played Sam Fujiyama opposite Jack Klugman on Quincy from 1976-1983.

It is better now, though perhaps not as much as it should be. Today you have Fresh Off the Boat and Dr. Ken; Lucy Liu on Elementary, B.D. Wong on Law and Order: SVU and Ming-Na Wen on Agents of Shield. And television is enriched by their talent.

But on this Chinese New Year let’s also celebrate the television contributions of those that did the best they could with the opportunities available.

I have always been fascinated by impressionists (and by that I mean entertainers that can mimic voices, not Renoir and Monet – though I like them too). It’s one thing to be able to change one’s voice into a near exact copy of someone else’s, but to replicate that talent on dozens of other people? It’s a remarkable thing.

The best TV show to feature impressionists was The Kopykats(1972), filmed in England and aired in the U.S. on The ABC Comedy Hour. Only seven episodes were made, but they brought together an all-star lineup led by Rich Little, George Kirby, Frank Gorshin, Fred Travalena and Marilyn Michaels. The skits were hit and miss, but the mimicry was jaw-dropping.

The Kopykats is not on DVD, and likely never will be due to music rights (though it can be found through ‘unofficial’ channels). But in 1975 NBC took a chance on a Rich Little variety series. It was gone after just 13 episodes, and didn’t last for the same reason The Kopykatsfizzled out – there’s only so much one can do with a premise based on imitating other celebrities.

That’s one of the problems with turning this particular talent into a TV show – after you master another person’s voice you still have to do something with it. Working up five killer minutes for a Dean Martin Roast? Easy, for someone with Rich Little’s gift. But a weekly 60-minute show would prove a much loftier challenge.

Despite its brevity and near forgotten status 40 years later, The Rich Little Show has been released on DVD. My aforementioned affection for impressionists made it a must-buy.

Aside from its headliner’s particular set of skills, the series has much in common with many short-lived variety series from the 1970s. Among its virtues – a wholesome good-natured eagerness to please and an eclectic array of guest stars. Among its faults – frequent strained comedy bits and sketches that don’t know when to wrap up.

How did Little turn his stable of impressions into a series? Sometimes by just not doing them. Several episodes feature sketches in which he plays a salesman or a traveler at an airport, who is accosted by series regular Charlotte Rae as a wild-eyed lunatic who winds up clinging to his ankles as he drags her across the floor, trying to escape. It’s as bad as it sounds.

Fortunately, most of the segments are built around impressions, either in stand-up routines similar to those in Little’s nightclub act, or in sketches in which he portrays characters such as Inspector Clouseau or Columbo. These have not aged well as the concept wears thin after a few minutes, and these were not among Little’s better voices.

That was always an issue with Rich – he couldn’t always tell his good ones from his bad ones. I’ve seen his Vegas show a dozen times, in which barely recognizable covers of Kenny Rogers and Neil Diamond stayed in his act for years to barely polite applause.

But when he was in his wheelhouse, particularly on the icons of Hollywood’s golden age, he was amazing: James Stewart, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau…he had dozens of familiar voices in his arsenal, but he could also take on the expressions and mannerisms of each person. You knew who he was doing before he said a word.

On the show he incorporated these impressions into his opening monologues, and in features where he took (obviously pre-arranged) audience suggestions of matching stars with different jobs – Kirk Douglas as a door-to-door salesman, Edith Bunker as a football player, Johnny Carson as a weatherman. And every so often Little would recreate a scene from a classic film such as Henry Fonda’s “I’ll be there” speech at the end of The Grapes of Wrath, and the effect was entrancing.

Politicians were also a big part of his repertoire, and as The Rich Little Show aired in the presidential campaign year of 1976 there is a healthy dose of current event humor in every episode. Richard Nixon was among his most popular impressions, because the president was such a rich target for ridicule, and because Little’s impression struck the perfect balance between accuracy and exaggeration. It’s still hilarious, but the jokes told in the voices of Hubert Humphrey and George Wallace will probably be lost on anyone under 40 (50?) now.

The guest star lineup for these 13 shows is truly stellar: Bob Hope, Andy Griffith, Michael Landon, Bernadette Peters, Bing Crosby, Bill Bixby, Freddie Prinze, and a plethora of ‘70s TV stars, from David Soul and Paul Michael Glaser to Kevin Tighe and Randolph Mantooth.

The musical guests also help push this set into the win column for me – there are performances from Glen Campbell (“Rhinestone Cowboy”), Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds (“Winners and Losers”), and two irresistible slices of ‘70s cheese – C.W. McCall doing “Convoy” and Larry Groce performing “Junk Food Junkie.”

Also appearing – The Jackson 5, who perform “Forever Came Today” and play the Sweathogs in a Welcome Back, Kotter sketch. It is both dreadful and fascinating to see Michael Jackson here before “Off the Wall” and Motown 25– so much genius ahead, and so much crazy.

Taken as a whole the series indeed leans toward the terrible, yet I am content to fast-forward through the lame sketches that take up half of each episode for the moments of magic in between, such as when Rich greets guest stars like Glenn Ford and Raymond Burr in their own voices. Or a salute to radio shows in which Little and Julie McWhirter recreate a classic comedy routine from George Burns and Gracie Allen. Since I’ve watched that segment more than a dozen times already, I have gotten my money’s worth from this modest investment. Your entertainment mileage may vary.

When a series introduces a character that the audience embraces, what often happens is said character is promoted to series regular. Think Sue Ann Nivens on The Mary Tyler Moore Show; Corporal Klinger on M*A*S*H; Norman Buntz on Hill Street Blues; Spike on Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

But many shows create popular characters that are content to stop by every so often, turn ordinary episodes into memorable ones, and then disappear for months or even years.

It’s a challenging assignment – how often is too often for a visit? Is the script always going to be there to make the outing worthwhile? Is the performer’s schedule always open when another return is requested? Still, examples of memorable recurring characters abound in the Comfort TV era, so whatever the hurdles they were not enough to keep some wonderful actors from adding to our viewing pleasure.

Who are your favorite occasional TV characters? Here in no particular order are some of mine, presented with apologies to runners-up Professor Pepperwinkle (The Adventures of Superman), Uncle Tonoose (Make Room for Daddy), Homer Bedloe (Petticoat Junction) the Log Lady (Twin Peaks), Sam the Butcher (The Brady Bunch) and of course, the scrootch gun-toting Moon Men Gidney and Cloyd (Rocky and Bullwinkle).

Cliff Murdock (Tom Poston)

The Bob Newhart Show (5 episodes)

One of the perks of recurring characters is how they can reveal new facets of the characters viewers see every week. That was certainly the case with Cliff Murdock, aka “The Peeper,” whose practical jokes brought out a sillier side of the usually sedate Bob Hartley.

Dr. Loveless (Michael Dunn)

The Wild, Wild West (10 episodes)

As the most formidable adversary of Secret Service agents James West and Artemus Gordon, the diminutive Miguelito Loveless always set our heroes on strange adventures. His debut in the series' third episode (“The Night the Wizard Shook the World”) may still be the show’s best-remembered installment, particularly in how many admirable traits it bestowed upon its mad scientist. Among Loveless’s best laid plans: poisoning the world’s water supply with LSD (which he invented) and discovering an alternate dimension, which allows him to hide crooks inside paintings displayed in banks.

Ernest T. Bass (Howard Morris)

The Andy Griffith Show (5 episodes)

So many of us dreamed of living in a community as quiet and traditional as Mayberry. So maybe we needed those invasions from wildman hillbilly Ernest T. Bass, as a reminder that even the most idyllic of rural towns was not immune to chaos.

Dr. Sidney Freedman (Allan Arbus)

M*A*S*H (11 episodes)

This was the first series to play comedy and drama with equal virtuosity. What made the psychiatrist played by Allan Arbus such a welcome occasional cast addition is how well he complemented every script regardless of tone. His moving sessions with a wounded soldier who thought he was Jesus (“Quo Vadis, Captain Chandler”) were as memorable as his chronicling of a mystery prankster at the 4077 in a letter to Sigmund Freud, in the very funny “Dear Sigmund”.

Uncle Arthur (Paul Lynde)

Bewitched (10 episodes)

Bewitchedhad an entire stable of wonderful recurring characters, from Sam’s delightfully dotty Aunt Clara to Darrin’s sick-headache-prone mother. Any time Maurice or Serena dropped by you were probably in for a good episode, but I always looked forward most to visits from Samantha’s Uncle Arthur. He not only brought out a mischievous streak in Sam, he had one of the most infectious laughs on television. Arthur’s second season debut (“The Joker is a Card”) is my favorite of the series’ 254 episodes, and still one of the funniest half-hours of television I have ever watched.

Marya (Nita Talbot)

Hogan’s Heroes (7 episodes)

One of the givens on Hogan’s Heroes was that Col. Hogan was always the smartest guy in the room. What made the Russian spy Marya so intriguing is that as a tactician she was the only character capable of playing at the Colonel’s level, resulting in bemusement, frustration and admiration in Hogan, all wonderfully expressed by Bob Crane. Nita Talbot, another of those familiar classic TV faces glimpsed in everything from The Untouchables to The Monkees, was the only Hogan’s Heroes guest star to receive an Emmy nomination – and she won.

Lance White (Tom Selleck)

The Rockford Files (2 episodes)

I’ve heard it said that the appeal of a recurring guest character on The Rockford Files is measured by the extent to which said character drives Jim nuts. That would make Stuart Margolin’s Angel the obvious choice. The problem is that Angel annoyed the hell out of me as well. I had much more fun with the two standout episodes featuring a pre-Magnum Tom Selleck as a vacuous private investigator who is loved and admired by everyone, except Jim. It’s a shame they didn’t bring him back more often – both of appearances are classics.

Cousin Geri (Geri Jewell)

The Facts of Life(12 episodes)

I’d be lying if I said that Cousin Geri’s visits to Eastland were among my favorite shows, but I think they were important in their own way, even in a series that abused its “very special episode” privileges, and that should stand for something.

A few weeks ago I received an invitation to participate in a blogathon, launched by The Classic Film and TV Café, on the topic of classic TV sidekicks. The first character that came to my mind was Dyna Girl, played by Judy Strangis.

What does that say about me? Maybe we shouldn’t go there.

I could frame this piece within some high-falutin’ analysis of the impact of Saturday morning children’s television on the youth of the 1970s. Or discuss the evolution of live-action programming in timeslots traditionally associated with animation. Or examine Electra Woman and Dyna Girl as a pioneering effort in the superhero genre decades before its current mainstream acceptance.

All of these would be acceptable justifications for writing about Dyna Girl. But she was probably my first choice because she was just so incredibly hot.

Is that crude? Is that sexist? Does it matter that I’m actually expressing the thoughts of my 12 year-old self? Or should that evidence be thrown out because I still think like my 12 year-old self most of the time?

I make no apologies. Women over 50 still go to Donny Osmond concerts because they remember the first time they heard “Puppy Love.” Their musical tastes have matured since then, but we never fully outgrow our early celebrity crushes. I am 51 years old and I still want to take Judy Strangis out for an ice cream soda.

One also has to admire the pop culture prominence of a Saturday morning series that consists of just eight half-hour episodes, that is still so fondly recalled 40 years later.

Electra Woman and Dyna Girl was Sid & Marty Krofft’s spin on the 1960s Batman series. You had a hero and a sidekick with dual identities. ElectraBase was their Batcave. Frank Heflin (wonderfully played by gruff but lovable Norman Alden) was a more technologically adept Alfred. They had a cool car and they fought colorful, outrageous villains with names like the Empress of Evil and The Pharaoh. Dyna Girl’s exclamations of “Electra Wow!” among others were a variation on Robin’s “Holy” this and “Holy” that.

Dyna Girl was my favorite part of the series. While Deidre Hall as Electra Woman was also beautiful, and wore spandex in a way that could jump-start a young man’s puberty, there was a hesitation around the edges of her performance. Every so often you could tell she really didn’t want to be on such a goofy show.

Not so with Judy Strangis, who embraced the crazy with the full-throttle fervor of someone having the time of her life. To see that commitment at its apex, check out “Ali Baba,” the episode in which Dyna Girl is drugged and turns evil, which in this case manifested itself visually through a change in lipstick shade. As she explores the dark side of the peppy crimefighter, Strangis takes “over the top” to levels that even Krofft shows rarely achieve.

Which is not to say she wasn’t a good actress. Prior to her superhero days Strangis was memorable and if possible even more beautiful as earnest high school student Helen Loomis on Room 222. Michael Constantine played the principal on that series, and then popped up in two episodes of Electra Woman and Dyna Girl as a villain called The Sorcerer. I often wondered what the discussions were like between the reunited castmates. They must have taken one look at each other in their respective costumes and thought, “Can you believe this?”

Even if they could, I wonder if either of them thought anyone would still be celebrating that silly little show in 2016.

In 1995, when Nick at Nite launched a Krofft marathon under the title “Pufapalooza,” two episodes of Electra Woman and Dyna Girl were featured, elevating the short-lived series to the first echelon of Krofft properties alongside HR Pufnstuf and Land of the Lost.

The concept was revived in a more adult-oriented 2001 pilot starring Markie Post and Anne Stedman. It never went anywhere, but it’s pretty funny and available on YouTube. Another reboot will be out later this year.

I wish them well but I doubt this is the kind of lightning that is easily bottled a second time. There is only one Dyna Girl for me.

The TV Sidekick Blogathon is hosted by the Classic Film & TV Cafe. Please check out the rest of the wonderful entries by clicking here.

In the four years that this blog has been around, I have written more about The Brady Bunch than any other series. I don’t know if I would call it my favorite show, but it is certainly the one I most closely associate with the warm, nostalgic feelings engendered by Comfort TV.

The other week I was watching “The Power of the Press,” an episode about Peter writing a column for his school paper, and I wondered how many episodes focused on each of the six Brady kids. So I added them up.

It turns out there are 12 Greg episodes, 10 for Peter, 8 for Bobby, 14 for Marcia, 9 for Jan and 6 for Cindy. The rest are either family-oriented stories, shows that feature more than one kid (Bobby and Cindy on the teeter-totter, Greg and Marcia fighting over the attic), or episodes that focus on the parents or Alice.

But which is the best show for each of the Brady kids? That’s one of those delightful TV debates that could fill an evening of dinnertime conversation – at least in my social circle. Here are my picks for the ultimate Brady six-pack, and I look forward to any opposing viewpoints.

Bobby

“Bobby’s Hero” (Season 4)

When you examine the Bobby episodes, you realize he had as many inferiority complexes as Jan. Whether it was feeling like a neglected stepson (“Every Boy Does it Once”), never winning a trophy (“The Winner”) or being insecure about his height (“Big Little Man”), Mike’s youngest always seemed to struggle to find his place in the family.

Perhaps that influenced his choice of Jesse James – someone who didn’t take crap from anybody – as a hero. In “Bobby’s Hero” he idolizes a ruthless outlaw until he meets a man (played by Comfort TV’s favorite senior citizen, Burt Mustin) whose father was killed by Jesse James. I remember how that seemed far-fetched, but the episode aired in 1973 and James died in 1882, so the math does work out.

I chose this episode because of the old west dream sequence in which the Bradys are shot and killed (which probably terrified younger viewers and delighted a few TV critics), as well as Bobby’s poignant come-to-Jesus moment, as he wakes up from the aforementioned nightmare. I think Mike Lookinland’s scene in Mike and Carol’s bedroom, when Bobby somberly announces, “I’m turning in my guns,” is his best moment on the series.

The show also works as a potent cautionary tale about the pitfalls of hero worship when you choose poorly, a message even more relevant today.

Cindy

“Eenie, Meenie, Mommy, Daddy” (Season 1)

Most of Cindy’s best Brady moments are in episodes where she shares the spotlight. “The Voice of Christmas” was as much Carol’s story as it is hers, and the celebrated bullying episode “A Fistful of Reasons,” starts out Cindy-centric and then switches to Peter.

When Cindy flies solo the results are usually not that stellar. Shows like “The Tattle-Tale” and “Cindy Brady, Lady” don’t hold up well, and the less said about the Shirley Temple episode (“The Snooperstar”), the better.

“Eenie, Meenie, Mommy, Daddy,” just the third episode in the series, is the exception. Cindy’s moment of triumph – earning a lead role in a school play – turns to anguish when the school only gives each cast member one ticket. Should she ask her mother, or her father? TheBrady Bunch meets Sophie’s Choice! It’s also fun that Cindy’s co-star in the play is Chris Partridge (Brian Forster).

Peter

“The Personality Kid” (Season 3)

With the exception of “Two Petes in a Pod,” almost every Peter episode is a series highlight. These are also some of the funniest shows in the run, whether Peter is secretly recording his siblings’ conversations (“The Private Ear”) or being consumed by guilt after breaking mom’s favorite vase (“Confessions, Confessions”).

Still, “The Personality Kid” is an episode everyone remembers, and with good reason. The story has Peter coming home from a party distraught because someone told him he has no personality. His parents expect it to blow over, but when it doesn’t we find Mike doesn’t have much tolerance for self-pity: “Stop moping around! If you don’t like your personality, improve it! Change it!” Thus we get an iconic sequence as Peter takes various personalities for a test drive, one being that of Humphrey Bogart.

It’s hard to explain why the “pork chops and applesauce” scene still makes me laugh, even though I’ve probably watched it 50 times. It isn’t just Christopher Knight’s awful Bogie impression, in which “swell” becomes “schwell”; it’s the reactions from Carol and Alice that progress from befuddled to bemused, and how it becomes contagious as both adopt the same facial tics and pronunciations.

Jan

“Her Sister’s Shadow” (Season 3)

Another no-brainer. Jan’s insecurity and middle child issues crop up in other episodes (such as “Will the Real Jan Brady Please Stand Up?” and “Try, Try Again”) but this is one of the series’ definitive shows, and the one that forever branded Jan as the poster girl for sibling envy. Her plaintive cries of “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!” will echo across the generations.

This is also one of the series’ most quotable episodes, and not just for that one famous line. “Find out what you do best, and do your best with it” is good advice for anyone, and I love Jan’s justification for dumping her sister’s awards in the closet – “Every time Marcia turns around they hand her a blue ribbon.”

“Her Sister’s Shadow” also sees Jan hearing immoral voices in her head, which became a running gag in The Brady Bunch Movie. Will she give in to the dark side and accept the Honor Society Award she really didn’t earn?

Greg

“The Dropout” (Season 2)

I’m sure many fans would opt for “Adios Johnny Bravo” which, as with many of the Greg shows, focuses on Greg’s choice between listening to the devil on one shoulder or the angel on the other. Here he has to decide between solo teen idol stardom and staying with the family musical group.

He faced similar dilemmas in “The Wheeler-Dealer,” in which he is tempted to lie to a friend to unload a lemon of a car he purchased, and in “Greg’s Triangle,” where he is on the committee in charge of picking the next head cheerleader. Should he take the fringe benefits that would come with choosing his new girlfriend, or choose his sister Marcia instead?

But there’s a special moment in “The Dropout,” the show’s season 2 opener, that makes it my favorite Greg show. If the title doesn’t jog any memories, this is the episode featuring Dodger pitcher Don Drysdale, who compliments Greg’s curve ball, sending the kid on an ego trip that ends badly. There is a scene between Mike and Greg after his little league downfall that is the best father-son moment on the series.

Marcia

“Today I Am a Freshman” (Season 4)

This was by far the most difficult decision.

What an embarrassment of riches we have with the Marcia shows: “Getting Davy Jones,” “The Slumber Caper” and “The Subject was Noses” are all classics; there was also her crush on bug-lover Harvey Klinger in “Going, Going…Steady,” and her feminist-inspired enrollment in the Frontier Scouts in “The Liberation of Marcia Brady”.

And while I rarely get emotional watching The Brady Bunch, Mike’s realization scene at the end of “Father of the Year” always gets to me. Watch Maureen McCormick’s face – she is positively beaming with love and pride.

I have three reasons for selecting “Today I Am a Freshman,” which depicts Marcia’s uneasy transition into high school. First, it sent a reassuring message to young girls that no one is immune from insecurity, even someone as beautiful and smart and poised as Marcia Brady.

To boost her social life at her new school, Marcia joins every club available, leading to a series of amusing scenes as she tries her hand at archery, scuba diving, karate and yoga. While this is happening, the episode’s B-plot has Peter building a working volcano, which he tests as Marcia is considered for membership in Westdale High’s most exclusive club, The Boosters.

For a television writer, bringing the A-plot and B-plot of an episode into a perfect simultaneous payoff is the ultimate accomplishment. “Today I Am a Freshman” achieves this goal with another unforgettable Brady moment.

Most of my fellow Comfort TV fans don’t have much use for reality TV.

The issue used to be that these shows cut into the valuable prime time real estate reserved exclusively for sitcoms, dramas and procedurals. Now that we have 8000 channels this is no longer a problem.

Maybe we just like the old shows because they provide an escape from reality. But sometimes, even within these enclosed fictional settings, the real world found a way in. It didn’t happen often, and with some shows you’d never know the difference if you did not know the backstory. Other times it was very clear that something unique, and very special, was taking place.

“Lucy’s Big Break”

Here’s Lucy

Before filming began on the fifth season of Here’s Lucy, Lucille Ball had a skiing accident and broke her leg. As she was carried off the Aspen slopes, she was distraught at the prospect of putting the cast and crew of her show out of work (according to daughter Lucie Arnaz, who was there when it happened). How could she do the physical comedy that was such an integral part of the series? CBS briefly considered canceling the show, but instead scripts were rewritten and Lucy returned to the set in a cast and a wheelchair for the first five episodes of that season.

“Happy Birthday and Too Many More”

The Dick Van Dyke Show

In the sophisticated and attractive Rob and Laura Petrie, many TV fans saw a parallel with another appealing young couple – President John F. Kennedy and his wife Jackie. President Kennedy was assassinated during production of a show about Richie’s birthday party. Four days later the episode was shot, but not in the traditional way in front of a studio audience. “No one’s mind was really on doing a comedy show,” said series writer Bill Persky. Next time you watch it, see if you can spot any signs of a grief-stricken cast at work.

“Maynard’s Farewell to the Troops”

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

Imagine being a struggling young actor and getting the break of a lifetime – a costarring role in a new series. Then imagine being drafted after filming the first four episodes. That’s what happened to Bob Denver, as he began his portrayal of Maynard G. Krebs on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. The situation was written into the series, when Maynard is drafted as well. Actor Michael J. Pollard was brought in to play Maynard’s cousin, Jerome. But then Denver was declared ineligible for military service because he had broken a vertebra in a car accident years earlier. Maynard returned and Jerome disappeared after two episodes, never to be seen or heard from again.

“Forever”

Bonanza

Dan Blocker, who played the beloved Hoss Cartwright on Bonanza, died before production began on the series 14^th and final season. The script for “Forever,” the first episode of that season, had already been written by Michael Landon. The story had Hoss falling in love with a woman, who is killed by a ruthless gambler. Landon rewrote the script with his character of Little Joe suffering the loss. The episode ends with a moment where Joe and his father Ben weep over her passing, but viewers knew the tears were really for their departed friend.

“Lucy is Enciente”

I Love Lucy

This turned out to be a more depressing entry than I anticipated, so let’s at least end on a happy note, by returning once again to Lucy, and perhaps the most famous and heartwarming “real” moment to emerge from a scripted TV show.

The decision to have Lucy Ricardo “with child” seemed logical given Lucille Ball’s pregnancy, though at the time such things were not always discussed on television.

“Lucy is Enciente” was the episode in which she tells Ricky they’re going to have a baby. After several failed attempts to do so, Lucy attends Ricky’s nightclub show and has an associate slip him a note that someone in the audience is expecting. In the original script, Ricky was to realize it was Lucy, almost faint, and then recover enough to start singing. But that didn’t happen. Writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer explained in The Lucy Book:

“Lucy and Desi got to this point in acting out the script and then this strange thing happened: Suddenly they remembered their own real emotions when they discovered that at last they were going to be parents, and both of them began crying. We had to yell at Desi to keep going and do the baby song. (Director) Bill Asher thought the scene was ruined and had it reshot. When we saw both versions, we knew we had to go with the emotional one.”

Sometimes the real world isn’t so bad after all.

I have a friend who is obsessed with the Toy Story movies. He has watched them dozens of times and collects anything Toy Story related.

I’ve always preferred the hand-drawn animation of the classic Disney films to the computerized images created by Pixar. However, there was one moment in the first Toy Story film that was so unexpectedly moving to me, I nearly stood up and cheered. It is when Andy is spotted wearing a t-shirt with the logo of the Triple R Ranch, previously seen only in the “Spin & Marty” serials that aired in the 1950s on the original Mickey Mouse Club.

To me this was confirmation that the Ranch, at least as of 1995, was still in business. And maybe it was still being run by Mr. Logan and Mr. Burnett, happily presiding over carefree summers of trail rides and songs around the campfire.

But if it is there, would anyone want to go?

There is a tendency among Millennials and post-Millennials to disregard anything in the culture that came and went before they were born. I know it’s not true of the entire generation but I’ve heard too many examples to not sense a trend. So I can’t

imagine today’s kids and teenagers being captivated by The Adventures of Spin and Marty and its two sequels.

But it wasn’t an issue for me. I was born seven years after the final serial aired in 1957, and I didn’t see any of the “Spin and Marty” shows until the 1990s, when the Disney Channel began airing The Mickey Mouse Club on Vault Disney. I was hooked on them immediately.

It’s easy to see why they were so popular in the 1950s, a time when television was dominated by westerns, and new cowboy movies opened almost every week. All the kids playing Roy Rogers or John Wayne in their neighborhood games could now watch stories set in the present day, about boys their own age learning to rope and ride and go on their own western adventures.

It was Walt Disney himself who suggested adapting Lawrence Edward Watkin’s book Marty Markham for the first “Spin and Marty” story. The 25-episode serial was filmed in Placerita Canyon, California, on land later purchased by the Disney company and used for hundreds of films and TV shows, including Little House on the Prairie and The Dukes of Hazzard.

David Stollery played Marty opposite Tim Considine as Spin. Interesting trivia note: Stollery left showbiz to pursue automotive design, and created the Celica model for Toyota.

Also in the cast was Harry Carey Jr., a member of John Ford’s western stock company, who played Triple R foreman Bill Burnett. I had the pleasure of interviewing Mr. Carey about ten years ago; he recalled that “the whole feeling on the set was one of joy.”

In the first serial, pampered rich kid Marty arrives at the Triple R (with his own butler!) and dismisses the place as a “dirty old ranch.” That doesn’t go over well with his fellow campers, but eventually he begins to fit in and overcome his fear of horses, when he competes at the annual rodeo.

After 30,000 fan letters poured in, Disney considered a Spin & Marty film, but opted for a follow-up serial. The Further Adventures of Spin and Marty unfolded over 22 episodes and introduced Kevin Corcoran as Moochie, the Triple R’s youngest buckaroo.

The sequel also recruited popular Mouseketeer Annette Funicello as one of the girls from nearby Lakeview Lodge. Of course, both Spin and Marty fall for her, prompting a knock-down drag-out fight. This being Disney, they are friends again by the final episode.

The second series was another hit, which led to The New Adventures of Spin and Marty, a 30-chapter saga that brought back Annette and fellow Mouseketeers Darlene Gillespie, Bonnie Fields and Don Agrati (better known as Don Grady, who along with Tim Considine would later star on My Three Sons).

This was my favorite of the serials, as it featured both a grand adventure (the boys go in hot pursuit of a wild stallion named Dynamite) and a ranch talent show to raise money for a new kitchen (after Marty’s jalopy crashes into the old one).

“I was always surprised and very pleased to come back,” Carey told me. “I guess there were other roles I missed out on, but it was too good a series to walk away from.”

It wasn’t surprising that I would enjoy these stories, as I had already become a fan of so many other television classics from the 1950s. But so much has changed since then. “Spin and Marty” is set in an outdoor world. An unplugged world. Would leaving the city or the suburbs to spend a summer at a dude ranch still sound exciting to a teenager now?

I’m not sure. But they don’t know what they are missing.

This is a question often heard by those of us with substantial TV-on-DVD collections. Especially when those collections are prominently displayed in the room with the biggest television.

The answer is yes – I’ve watched everything you see in the floor to ceiling shelves on both sides of my TV – unless you happened to get here a few days after a new box has arrived, but by your next visit I’ll have that one finished as well. In fact, I’ve watched most of the episodes multiple times. That’s the litmus test for whether a series is worth buying – will I want to watch it more than once?

Not my Actual Collection - but You Get the Idea

The next question, almost inevitably, addresses how that could be possible. A more diplomatic guest will opt for something like, “Doesn’t that take up a lot of your time?” while those prone to snark prefer “Don’t you have a job? Or a life?”

It’s an understandable reaction. Taken in its totality, the prospect of watching about 10,000 episodes of television seems like a formidable task.

But it’s not – really! The reason for this blog entry is not just to provide some insight into my viewing habits. Rather, it’s to offer encouragement to anyone who has read some of my pieces, and those of my fellow TV bloggers, and had an interest sparked in re-watching a favorite show from the past, or checking out one that you’ve never had a chance to experience:

“I liked the Mission: Impossible movies – wonder what the original series was like?”

“The Donna Reed Show sounds like the perfect antidote to the smart ass tone of sitcoms now.”

“I remember how much I used to enjoy watching The Waltonswith my parents. I wonder if I’d still enjoy it.”

But then you consider the time required – seven, eight, nine seasons, each with anywhere from 24 to 30+ episodes. This is not like just watching a movie on a friend’s recommendation.

My suggestion is don’t be intimidated by the time commitment – go for it.

Yes, I’ve watched a lot of TV, but I probably average about three episodes out of my DVD collection per day. With half-hour shows at about 25 minutes each, that’s just one hour and 15 minutes, less time than it would take to watch most movies. But over the course of a year that adds up to more than 1,000 episodes. And I’ve had most of these sets for more than a decade – that’s how you get to 10,000 shows, if you also have a job, and a life.

Choose a series, and start the first season with one or two episodes a night. I know binge-watching is popular now with stuff like House of Cards, where each episode is like a chapter in a novel and viewers can’t wait to see how it ends. It’s a different kind of television. But I don’t believe that approach serves the older shows as well.

Still, there is something appealing and satisfying about watching every episode of a classic series in order. My friends and I call it “taking the journey,” one with a starting point and an ending point, and unexpected detours along the way.

It also deepens one’s appreciation for the talent both on display and behind the scenes. Whenever I return to Father Knows Best, with its 203 episodes over six seasons, I am astonished that more than 150 of them were written by just two men, Roswell Rogers and Paul West. Sometimes it takes me two weeks to write one of these blogs.

You’ll notice credits more watching shows this way. You’ll see guest actors return in different roles, sometimes during the same season. You’ll spot continuity errors aplenty. You’ll enjoy seeing how grocery stories and department stores and banks looked 30-50 years ago – and if you have some memory of that time you’ll miss them. In fact you may spot a number of social and cultural traits that we’ve long since abandoned.

Best of all, you don’t have to own the shows to watch them anymore, thanks to libraries and Netflix and streaming services. But if you do buy (and prices have plummeted over the last few years), you may be surprised at how often you return to these fictional worlds. We all deserve a break from 2016 sometimes – at least until the election is over.

Imagine a place where all of the instantly recognizable objects associated with classic television are on display. It doesn’t exist, so we’ll create it here, and pay tribute to many of our favorite Comfort TV things.

Introduced in the first episode of Get Smart, the Cone of Silence would inspire some of the biggest laughs on what many would argue is still the funniest television series ever created.

Was this merely an inspired visual gag by series creators Mel Brooks and Buck Henry, or a subtle comment on government incompetence? Imagine how many taxpayer dollars were poured into research and development on something that never did its job. Not the first time, and certainly not the last. Fill in your favorite boondoggle here.

Its presence in the series’ pilot suggests that this was a moment that would help sell the show: Maxwell Smart, dedicated and eager but also clumsy and dense, awaits assignment from the head of the secret government espionage agency CONTROL.The Chief, Max’s boss, hints at how vital this upcoming mission will be. Not willing to take any chances, Max demands his orders be given only within the security of the Cone of Silence. The Chief, exasperated as if he already knows Uncle Sam got stuck with a clunker, calls for it anyway.

That is a perfect classic TV moment.

The scene works so well that it could have been reprised with only minor variations in future episodes and still earned a laugh. But that would have been too easy for a show with this much genius in its origins. The Cone of Silence would make ten more appearances over the show’s five seasons, and the question was never whether it would function as designed, but how it would fail once again.

In “KAOS in CONTROL,” the Cone still impairs communication between Max and The Chief, but those outside can hear every word they say.

It appears once again in “My Nephew the Spy,” after Max insists that regulations call for all security measures to be taken in such vital circumstances. The Cone is lowered, and the Chief asks Agent 86 what he discovered about KAOS headquarters. Max responds, “Nothing.”

“Too Many Chiefs,” from season one, is my favorite Cone of Silence moment. Here's why:

“Hubert’s Unfinished Symphony” features the debut of the portable Cone of Silence, which looks even more ridiculous than its predecessor. Which is unfortunate for the Chief, who spends most of the episode stuck inside.

When Max and 99 are on assignment in England in “That Old Gang of Mine,” the London CONTROL office provides its own variation, the Umbrella of Silence. Surprisingly it’s up to the task, but other complications ensue.

In the season four episode “A Tale of Two Tails” we learn that the Cone was invented by Professor Cohn.“The Cone of Silence was invented by a Professor Cohn?” Max asks, as he looks up at it; “That’s funny…it doesn’t look it.” One more example of a joke that worked 40 years ago and would now generate demands for apologies and sensitivity training.

With the Cone on the fritz again, Max and the Chief opt for the CONTROL secret word file. Once you see how that works you’ll wonder if it was created by the same guy who wrote the federal tax code.

And though it’s not canon I should mention that a high-tech version of the Cone appears in the 2008 Get Smart film with Steve Carrell. Here at the Museum we’re content to own the original, but if you don’t see it on your next visit don’t panic – most likely it just needs yet another tune-up.

The recent passing of William Schallert is a poignant reminder that our living links to the original classic TV era have dwindled down to a precious few.

The Internet Movie Database lists 375 acting credits for Mr. Schallert, the preponderance of which were for television. His first TV appearance was in the 1951 anthology series Family Theater; his final bow came 63 years later, as an elevator operator on Two Broke Girls.

In between he appeared on more Comfort TV shows than any actor. That is a testimony to talent, certainly, but also to versatility and professionalism, and a work ethic once viewed as conventional that now seems almost heroic. For those of us who treasure this time in the medium’s history, he was always a welcome presence in any role.

Here are ten memorable moments from a stellar career.

“Do You Trust Your Daughter?”

The Patty Duke Show

William Schallert’s most prominent Comfort TV role was Martin Lane, editor of the New York Chronicle and father to precocious Patty Lane.

The Patty Duke Show aired for three seasons, and next to Duke’s virtuosity in a dual role, one of its greatest joys is the loving relationship between Patty and her “Poppo.” “Do You Trust Your Daughter?” opens a rift between them that reminds us how great comedy shows could also produce potent dramatic moments. When Martin realizes he had mistakenly accused Patty of lying, he expresses his mea culpathrough an oddly beautiful 19^th century song called “Keemo-Kimo.” Schallert’s tender performance and Duke’s emotional reaction makes for one of those scenes that justify the love we share for television classics.

“Goodbye, Mr. Pomfritt, Hello, Mr. Chips”

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

Schallert appeared in 24 Dobie Gillis episodes as teacher Leander Pomfritt, who tenders his resignation in this season-two show, admitting he cannot support his family on a teacher’s salary (some things never change). Dobie and Maynard host a testimonial dinner in his honor, and invite as many of his former students as they can find. Of course Maynard fails to mail the invitations, but the event still rekindles Pomfritt’s calling to the classroom.

“A Word a Day”

The Dick Van Dyke Show

William Schallert received the second biggest front door laugh in the history of this series (the first belongs to Greg Morris in “That’s My Boy??”). In “A Word a Day,” a distressed Rob and Laura are concerned over their son Ritchie’s sudden use of profanity, and wonder where he is picking up such language. Suspicion falls on a new boy in the neighborhood. Rob invites the boy’s parents over to see what kind of people would allow their kid to corrupt a nice neighborhood. When he opens the front door there’s William Schallert – played Reverend Kirk.

“A Man Called Smart, Part Two”

Get Smart

This classic three-part story introduced Schallert as 91 year-old Admiral Hargrade, the original leader of CONTROL. As a clumsy, addled senior in the style of Arte Johnson’s Tyrone Horneigh character on Laugh-In, this was broader comedy that Schallert usually tackled. But as always he settles right into the tone of the show and creates another memorable character, whose hobbies include “chess, and burying old buddies.”

“The Lady Plays Her Hand”

Bat Masterson

We should have at least one of Schallert’s western credits on this list, as he appeared on many of the best shows from the genre’s heyday (Wanted: Dead of Alive, Lawman, Maverick, Wagon Train, Gunsmoke). Here, he plays George Winston, an eastern gambler who breaks the bank at Bat’s casino – though Masterson suspects Winston’s “system” had some inside help.

“The Trouble with Tribbles”
Star Trek

One of the series’ most popular episodes features William Schallert as a bureaucrat ready to haul Captain Kirk before a Board of Inquiry after a grain shipment is devoured by the Tribbles invading the Enterprise. Schallert played a lot of these button-down company men, but rarely amidst such bizarre circumstances.

“Quiet Sam”

The Andy Griffith Show

Could someone actually be growing marijuana in Sheriff Andy’s town? That’s what Deputy Barney Fife believes as he investigates Sam Becker (Schallert), a newly arrived farmer who prefers to keep to himself. Given his body of work it is probable Schallert played a pothead at some point, but the reasons for his character’s reticence here have nothing to do with trying to mellow out Mayberry.

“Samantha’s Curious Cravings”

Bewitched

There were several mentions of Samantha’s obstetrician, Dr. Anton, during her pregnancy with Tabitha, but the character was never seen. We finally meet him before Adam is born, giving William Schallert yet another classic TV credit. This is one of the better late-season episodes of the series, as Anton finds himself at odds with Sam’s other family physician, Dr. Bombay.

“Fathers and Sons”

Room 222

Having played so many warm and caring dads, it can be disturbing at first to see Schallert as Dr. Charles Garrett, a belligerent, conservative father yelling at his impressionable son, who is drawn to the more progressive outlook of history teacher Pete Dixon. Garrett tries to get Dixon fired, but ultimately takes a more encouraging approach to the generation gap issue.

“The Red Woodloe Story”

The Partridge Family

While attending church, the Partridges are surprised to hear a performance from Red Woodloe (Schallert), a once-promising folk singer who disappeared from the spotlight decades earlier. They urge him to attempt a comeback, but Red has issues with commitment…and stage fright. If you liked Schallert’s singing on The Patty Duke Show, you’ll enjoy a lot more of it here.

For those interested in even more of William Schallert’s work, here are ten additional credits that are also worth a look:

“Lucy and the Little League”

The Lucy Show

“The Case of the Sulky Girl”

Perry Mason

“All Mothers Worry”

The Donna Reed Show

“The Clones”

Land of the Giants

“Keep the Faith, Baby”

The Mod Squad

“The Night of Winged Terror, Parts 1 & 2”

The Wild, Wild West

“The Travelling Man”

The Waltons

“The Mystery of Pirate’s Cove"

The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries

“Sniper”

Police Story

“Family Ties”

St. Elsewhere

Godspeed, Mr. Schallert. While many of us are still mourning the loss of Patty Duke, it does help to know that she was there to welcome her Poppo home.

The most beautiful music ever written for television was composed to underscore a commercial for a Canadian tea manufacturer.

But before we finish that story…

One of the more interesting aspects of growing older is how it changes your perspective on any number of things. Some people change political parties. Some move closer to or further away from religion. Some discover the joys of golf after racquetball becomes too strenuous.

My change of heart concerns what used to be called “muzak,” particularly by me in my teenage years.

I used to hate it. Now the lush instrumentals of Ray Conniff, Percy Faith and Paul Mauriat have become a peaceful refuge from a world that keeps growing louder (Dear everyone: I have no interest in your cell phone conversations; why are you forcing me to listen to them?).

Sirius XM channel 69 (“Escape”) – no better way to chill out after a stressful day.

Television has inspired many serene compositions that would fit comfortably into the easy listening genre. Some of my favorites include:

Quentin’s Theme (Shadows of the Night)

Bob Cobert’s melancholy waltz, introduced on Dark Shadows, was recorded by more than 20 artists, including Andy Williams, and earned a Grammy nomination in 1969.

You’re My Greatest Love (Theme from “The Honeymooners)

Written by series star Jackie Gleason, this romantic orchestral piece admittedly seemed at odds with the thunderous arguments in so many episodes.

Angela (Theme from “Taxi”)

I’ve been a fan of smooth jazz artist Bob James for years. This is his best-known composition. As with The Honeymooners it’s a gentle theme for a volatile show, but somehow it works.

Laura’s Palmer’s Theme (Twin Peaks)

Angelo Badalamenti’s music is too ominous for relaxation, but one cannot deny its sway. The sadness of the subject is expressed in somber, heartbreaking tones, with piano interludes that bring some hope of light amidst the darkness. When the piece ends, however, you know which side won.

But for me, the most beautiful song ever written for television (See? I didn’t forget!) is “The Homecoming,” written by Hagood Hardy and introduced in a 1970s commercial for Salada Tea.

It can be difficult to put into words why a piece of music resonates – or fails to resonate. I guess that’s why in nearly 40 years of rating records on American Bandstand, almost every answer to Dick Clark’s question about a new single was, “I like the beat, and it’s easy to dance to.”

In this case neither of those attributes apply. “The Homecoming” has no beat and I doubt anyone has ever danced to it. It’s more Mantovani that Mozart but there is a sublime classical quality to the piece that is part of the reason it appeals to me. The opening strains in particular remind me of a Debussy nocturne. I love the gentle, wistful melody. I love the glissando of strings at the 1:46 mark. I love that it sounds like a walk through a forest.

I’m still not sure what it has to do with tea. The original commercial in which it was introduced is not on YouTube, but I hope to see it one day and fill in the rest of that story.

The music also has no connection to The Homecoming, a 1971 made-for-TV movie of the same name that introduced the Walton family to television. It’s still worth watching if you can get past Patricia Neal as a much bigger sourpuss than Michael Learned ever was as Olivia Walton.

Hagood Hardy’s musical legacy includes one other gift in his contribution to the revered 1985 television adaptation of Anne of Green Gables.

Composing music as spectacular as the series’ Prince Edward Island setting was a formidable challenge. I think he succeeded.

Sadly, Hardy died in 1997 at the far-too-young age of 59. His 2012 CD “All My Best” is recommended for anyone who shares my appreciation for his work.

What do you think is the most beautiful music written for television?

I’m looking forward to the return of The Gilmore Girls later this year. It’s one of my favorite post-Comfort TV era shows, and I am very happy for this chance to get reacquainted with its wonderfully smart and appealing characters.

It also got me thinking about how many classic television shows attempted a reunion movie or special with less than satisfying results. If the shows were successful the first time, why do these projects with so many built-in feel-good moments so often miss the mark?

As someone who has sat through more of these attempts than most, I think the problem is they violate one of five rules for a successful reunion. Rules I just made up. File this blog under the heading of good advice, delivered too late to make a difference.

1. Don’t Wait Too Long

The Patty Duke Show ran from 1963-1966. The Patty Duke Show: Still Rockin’ in Brooklyn Heights aired in 1999. Audiences who met Patty Lane as a feisty teenager now were seeing her again for the first time when she is old enough to join AARP. While it was heartening to see the entire cast back after 33 years, watching Eddie Applegate (as Patty’s high school boyfriend Richard) still pining for Patty at age 64 comes off more sad than nostalgic.

This was also an issue with The Dick Van Dyke Show Revisited(2004). Here the gap was 38 years, clearly too great a span for Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore to fall back into the urbane chemistry they shared as Rob and Laura Petrie, even with Carl Reiner providing the words as he did when he created the show.

2. Don’t Do It Too Soon, Either

The Waltonsfinished an impressive nine-year run in 1981. A Wedding on Walton’s Mountain aired eight months later, followed by two more 1982 revivals, Mother’s Day on Walton’s Mountain and A Day of Thanks on Walton’s Mountain. Fans didn’t even have time to miss the family before they were back together.

3. Don’t Do It With Half Your Cast

Back in 1985 I’m sure many Comfort TV fans were excited about getting reacquainted with Jeannie and Major Nelson in I Dream of Jeannie: 15 Years Later…until they learned that this time Major Nelson would be played by Wayne Rogers.

With a large enough cast you can still pull one of these off if just one person is missing: Eight is Enough: A Family Reunion worked with Mary Frann as Abby because the rest of the Bradfords were there. And Jennifer Runyon ably filled in for Susan Olsen in A Very Brady Christmas.

But if the point of a reunion is to bring back the same actors in the same roles, there is certainly a tipping point on recasts and nonappearances that should not be crossed. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop The Return of the Beverly Hillbillies (1981), despite the absences of Irene Ryan, Max Baer Jr. and Raymond Bailey, or Back to The Streets of San Francisco (1992) when the only cast member back was Karl Malden.

4. Have a Good Reason for Reuniting

No classic TV show had a more ideal revival motive than Gilligan’s Island.

Rescue from Gilligan’s Island (1978) turned out to be dreadful, but that didn’t make it any less necessary given the unfinished business addressed.

Too often the thinking behind these projects is just to get the cast back together, which could be accomplished at an autograph show for a lot less money. A reunion movie also requires an interesting script – preferably one that remembers what made the original series successful.

Examples? Too many to mention: The Father Knows Best Reunion(1977) comes to mind, in which half the film is seemingly spent picking up or dropping off people at the airport; Halloween With the New Addams Family (1977) drags even at 75 minutes, though it was a treat to see the original cast in color. And Return to Green Acres (1990) lobotomized one of the 1960s’ most brilliantly subversive series.

5. Don’t Make Every Joke About Being Older

This trope is especially prevalent with westerns and action shows. You can set your watch by the scene where the hero needs extra effort to subdue hired muscle that he wouldn’t break a sweat over in his prime, and then you’ll get some variation on Danny Glover’s famous Lethal Weapon line, “I’m getting too old for this…”

That’s just one of the issues with The Wild, Wild West Revisited(1979), which too often crossed into camp. It also applies to The Return of the Man From UNCLE: The 15 Years Later Affair (1983), which was apparently written by someone who was paid by the word.

This doesn’t mean these jokes don’t work when they’re done right: I Spy Returns (1994) was loaded with them but the partnership between Kelly and Scotty has aged with remarkable grace. And when the passage of time is acknowledged in a more poignant way, as in the eternal romance of Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty in Gunsmoke: Return to Dodge (1987), it can break your heart.

Which reunions worked? Sounds like a great topic for a future blog. Let me hear your suggestions.

Two years ago I wrote a blog about Meredith Baxter. It was not related to a new project or any other milestone – I just felt like celebrating an impressive and diverse television career. That’s the best thing about having your own blog – no editors to tell you what you can or can’t do.

Such pieces will now be a recurring feature here. There have been so many wonderful actors who, while not icons in the medium, have built a remarkable legacy of fine work. If, like me, you have access to enough classic television to create programming nights focused around a particular star or theme, perhaps these pieces will provide some inspiration.

I’ve selected David Wayne because I’m now enjoying a second journey through the classic and sadly short-lived Ellery Queen series, in which he costarred as Ellery’s father.

Not every actor has a screen persona but some certainly get repeatedly cast into specific types of roles. With David Wayne, it was intelligent but temperamental men who were always annoyed about something – usually the vacuousness or incompetence of others. That was certainly the case with Police Inspector Richard Queen, as well as several of these other moments that are worth revisiting.

The Twilight Zone (1959)

“Escape Clause” is not in the first tier of TZ classics – you may guess the twist in Rod Serling’s script before it is revealed – but Wayne is ideally cast as Walter Bedeker, a surly, self-centered hypochondriac who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for an extended life span of “a few hundred, or a few thousand” years.

Naked City (1962)

One of the best DVD investments I’ve ever made is 80 bucks for 138 episodes of this groundbreaking 1958-1962 series, shot in evocative, atmospheric black and white on the streets of New York City. “The Multiplicity of Herbert Konish” is a typically strong outing, with Wayne as the title character – a mild-mannered broker who creates several other identities for himself. It’s up to Adam Flint to discover whether any of Konish’s aliases are also criminals. The answer is not what you might expect.

Batman (1966)

Since I have memories of watching Batman when I was 8 or 9, this was probably the first David Wayne performance I ever enjoyed. As with the series’ other famous guest villains I had no idea at the time that he had a career before arriving in Gotham City. To me he was just the Mad Hatter. The first of his two appearances (“The Thirteenth Hat/Batman Stands Pat”) is more memorable, as Jervis Tetsch is joined in his criminal escapades by a statuesque hat-check girl played by the stunning Diane McBain.

The Good Life (1971)

I’ve never watched this series but I’ve seen clips on YouTube. It’s listed here because the concept and cast are so intriguing that I can’t imagine it not being enjoyable. Larry Hagman and Donna Mills play a middle-class married couple who take jobs as a butler and cook for wealthy industrialist Charles Dutton (played by David Wayne). Just 15 episodes were made before everyone moved on to more successful projects.

Banacek (1973)

This is one of those shows I’ve wanted to write about for years but haven’t gotten to yet. Consider this a start: “Ten Thousand Dollars a Page” finds insurance investigator Banacek trying to discover how someone managed to steal a priceless book encased amidst high-tech alarms. David Wayne plays the book’s owner, a self-proclaimed tyrant. It was Emmy-worthy work, and from an acting-with-a-capital-A standpoint his best performance of those on this list.

Ellery Queen (1975)

Wayne possessed one of those resonant golden-age Hollywood voices, instantly recognizable, which fit perfectly into this 1940s-set series where distinctive voices abound. Jim Hutton had the easygoing cadences of Jimmy Stewart, John Hillerman the cultured tones of William Powell, and the gung-ho reporter played by Ken Swofford would have blended right into His Girl Friday.

Family (1978)

Ellery Queen may have temporarily trapped David Wayne in the “dad” zone with casting directors, as he would play several more fathers over the next few years. In “The Covenant” he played the ailing father of Doug Lawrence (James Broderick). It’s a typical Familyepisode, which means it’s better than 98% of everything else that has ever been on television.

Dallas (1978)

Full disclosure: I actually think Keenan Wynn’s take on embittered drunk Digger Barnes seemed more authentic than that of David Wayne, who originated the role. But Wayne had better material to play in the series’ early seasons, as he had to contend with his daughter Pamela marrying into the family he blamed for all his misfortune.

Eight is Enough (1979)

In “Fathers and Other Strangers” the Bradfords vacation in Hawaii and Tom confronts his estranged father (played by you-know-who). There’s a bit too much filler in this stretched-out two-part episode, but its best scenes are shared by David Wayne and Willie Aames. Unless you count the scene with Elizabeth in a bikini. What, you’re just finding out now that I’m shallow?

House Calls (1979)

Now in his 60s, his cranky persona gracefully aging like vintage Port, David Wayne added some much-needed cynicism into this romantic sitcom about the romance between hospital coworkers played by Wayne Rogers and Lynn Redgrave. Wayne’s Dr. Amos Weatherby was going senile but preferred to think he was the last sane person in a world that was going crazy. I can relate.

Journalism – real honest-to-God journalism – is dead. I can’t pinpoint an exact time of death, but it’s been on life support since the escalation of the Internet, and about ten years ago finally gave up the ghost. There are still reputable journalists plying their trade, but they do so in opposition to a tsunami of predetermined agendas, arrogance and flat-out incompetence.

Which makes the experience of watching Lou Grant (1977-1982) the best dramatic television series about the profession, a bittersweet experience.

Lou Grantunderstood the significance of responsible journalism without indulging in self-aggrandizement. The whimsical opening credits sequence, in which the lifespan of a daily newspaper is followed to an ignoble end, lets you know this won’t be a genuflection to the Fourth Estate.

The show also got what made print journalism interesting. It’s not the big “scoops” that win Pulitzers and bring down governments. It’s the research and the legwork that are necessary even for a lifestyle feature that will run on page 24. It’s the running down of dead ends and interviewing people who don’t want to talk to you. It’s working on a story for days and then having something happen that renders it useless.

The show is a procedural, like Dragnet was a procedural. It takes the mundane parts of a glamorized job and makes them compelling. When you watch it you’ll understand how it was once possible for biased and imperfect people, working within a clear chain of command, to produce something that could accurately be called “news.”

We see this system at work in the first episode. Reporter Joe Rossi (everyone’s favorite character unless you had a crush on Billie) exposes a police department sex scandal. Rossi has a strong anti-establishment streak and can barely conceal his delight when he writes it up. Lou knows the story is legit, but orders Rossi to rewrite it so the facts are more prominent than the reporter’s colorfully crafted condemnation. The paper’s publisher, Margaret Pynchon, believes there are already too many negative stories about the police and would rather not run it at all. But she prints the article, because it’s the proper thing to do.

It’s a tribute to the quality of the series that the novelty of building a drama around a sitcom character almost seems like an afterthought.

This is not the grouchy teddy bear Lou Grant from WJM News, who spent his days yelling at Ted Baxter and ducking Sue Ann’s advances. There are occasional references to Lou having moved to Los Angeles from Minneapolis, but when he takes the city editor post at the Tribune, he becomes a real newspaperman. And you don’t question it for a moment.

Ed Asner leads a sterling cast; Robert Walden’s Joe Rossi became an archetype for bulldog journalism. Fans so fondly recall Linda Kelsey as reporter Billie Newman that they may have forgotten (as I did) that she replaced Rebecca Balding, who appears in the show’s first three episodes.

Mason Adams, as Tribune editor Charlie Hume, brings some of the good-natured cynicism inherent to portrayals of journalism since The Front Page in 1931. At a city desk meeting someone brings in a story about a train wreck in Romania with numerous casualties. It is relegated to an interior page, until someone mentions there were two people from Los Angeles on the train. “Now, it’s a tragedy,” says Hume, and it goes on page one.

In another episode, Charlie explains to Billie his hesitation to approve a feature article on the gang problems in East Los Angeles. “The people in West L.A. get nervous when we write about the Chicanos,” he says, “and the Chicanos don’t read the Tribune.”

As wonderful as Adams is in this, I can’t watch any of his scenes without hearing “With a name like Smuckers, it has to be good.”

Lou may have left the sitcom world, but Lou Grant can be a very funny show when it’s appropriate. Much of the humor is provided by a photographer nicknamed Animal (Daryl Anderson) and assistant city editor Art Donovan, a dapper horndog played by Jack Bannon. Bannon happily inherited the comic timing of his mother, TV icon Bea Benaderet.

Nancy Marchand may be better known to TV audiences from The Sopranos, but as Mrs. Pynchon she also brought humor to the series, especially when Lou and Charlie are summoned to her office the way first-graders are ordered to see the principal.

I just love this show. So did enough viewers to keep it on for five seasons, and it would have continued if CBS had not become fed up with Asner’s politics.

Lou Grantwon more than 25 Emmys, as well as Humanitas Prizes and Peabody Awards among other accolades. By any measure this was outstanding television. But I think it plays even better for anyone who worked in journalism – or ever wanted to.

If the sounds of a typewriter make you more nostalgic than the songs played at your prom, this is the show for you. After a few episodes you’lllong for the days when news came from a newspaper, and not from a million websites and politically charged blogs of dubious intent.

We have access to so much more information now, and that’s good. But when you can’t tell the Onion headlines from those in the New York Times, it seems like we’ve lost something even more precious. In its original run, watching Lou Grant helped the masses to understand what goes into putting together that morning paper that arrived on all of our doorsteps. Today, it plays like a eulogy for a once-proud vocation.

As I’ve been reading since the age of four, I don’t need to watch The Electric Company for the lessons it imparts. But I own both of the Shout! Factory “Best of” DVD sets, as well as several more episodes taped off the Noggin network, and revisit all of them often.

The show brings me back to my childhood, but beyond that nostalgic quality it also boasts a remarkably versatile and talented cast, sketches that are still funny and wonderful original music. As with its PBS predecessor, Sesame Street, The Electric Company had access to truly gifted composers, such as Joe Raposo, Tom Lehrer, Gary William Friedman and Clark Gesner. The songs may have been specifically written to illustrate the sound of whatever letter combination or grammar lesson was being taught, but it’s remarkable how they accomplished this with such cleverness, catchiness and humor.

Let’s make like the show’s disc jockey Mel Mounds, with a top 20 countdown of the groovy sounds from this Emmy-winning classic. Unfortunately I couldn't find clips of all of them - which I'm going to blame on J. Arthur Crank. I just wish this was a top 21 list so I could include “Pete’s Pickle.”

20. The Corner

The Short Circus was The Electric Company house band, so you’ll see them more than once in this ranking – but not as often as you might think. A lot of their songs (“Boom,” “Stop,” “Jelly Belly”) were ok as filler but not anything that would catch your ear on the radio. “The Corner” is one of the exceptions, with its lilting “la la” earworm and a lyric about the everyday fun experiences of being a kid.

19. The Barley Farmers’ Bar

This country duet featuring Skip Hinnant and Judy Graubart appeared in a Hee Haw style skit about a farmer whose “mind is far from farmin’ when he’s arm-in-arm with Carmen.” Even in the less PC ‘70s a reference to a bar on a children’s show was iffy, so Skip adds the quick aside, “Milk bar, that is.”

18. That’s All

This was the last song in the last segment of the last episode of the series. The entire cast (except Rita Moreno) perform together, with some soft shoe dance interludes, and then take a final curtain call as one closing lesson is taught about the word “all.”

We're glad you came to call
We really had a ball
The show is done
We hate to run
We're sorry, but that's all

17. The ‘Ly’ Song

You really need the animated visuals to fully appreciate this Tom Lehrer tune about how to change adjectives into adverbs. Why couldn’t this lesson be taught in school in a way that was this clever and entertaining?

16. Nitty Gritty

Hattie Winston channels her inner Chaka Kahn for this R&B rhyming song. It should be penalized for support from the least interesting incarnation of the Short Circus, but Hattie’s soulful lead vocal makes it impossible to leave this one off the list.

15. The Sign Song

Clark Gesner’s best-remembered EC contributions were several singalong songs that accompanied a montage of signs from around New York City. People who haven’t heard this in 30 years may instantly recall the words when they see it again.

14. Whimper and Whine

In addition to teaching the “wh” sound, this song performed by June Angela and Stephen Gustafson also warns kids not to be spoiled brats, or they might wind up without any friends.

13. Randy

Yes, it’s three adult men singing a love song to a teenage girl. Get your mind out of the gutter and just enjoy Skip Hinnant’s smooth baritone on this ‘50s inspired ballad. No clip available, sadly, but it's on the first "Best of" DVD set.

12. Shoo Shoo Sunshine

Even the Children’s Television Workshop gets the blues. Morgan Freeman sings this downbeat saga of a guy at the train station, preparing to leave town after his girl left him. “Don’t show me no more light – till I find my baby, who’s drifted out of sight.”

11. Kelly and Buddy

One of the show’s recurring bits was the throwback musical performances on a vaudeville-style stage. “Kelly and Buddy” was the best duet between Stephen Gustafson and the Annette Funicello of the Short Circus, Bayn Johnson. Their voices always blended well.

10. I Was Young Once Too

How many shows aimed at children just learning to read would introduce a wistful song (by Joe Raposo) about an old man reflecting on his long-lost youth? That little crack in Jim Boyd’s voice on the last line can reduce a grown man to tears.

9. “Hard, Hard, Hard”

Given the Gold records in her future, it’s surprising that Irene Cara received so few lead vocals in her Short Circus days. This song offers an early glimpse into the belter that would top the hot 100 with the title tracks from Fameand Flashdance.

8. Grease

Not the Frankie Valli song from the film, of course, but one of the energetic 1960s-doo-wop rockers performed by “Phyllis and the Pharaohs,” a.k.a Rita Moreno, backed by Morgan Freeman, Skip Hinnant, Jim Boyd and Luis Avalos. This one just edges out “Phantom of Love.”

7. Snore, Sniff and Sneeze

Even if Tom Lehrer didn’t perform this tune, about a wolf who likes to “do things that begin with ‘sn,’” you’d know he wrote it from the sardonic wordplay of the lyrics: “Whenever I have a few moments to spend, I can snoop on a neighbor, or snitch on a friend.”

6. My Name is Kathy

This is the EC song that sounds most like the time it was written. The Short Circus skip the orange and yellow costumes and fake instrument playing to sit in a circle and trade verses about who they are and what they like to do. It has a laid-back, folk hippie vibe, like the music in Free to Be…You and Me. The Barbara Eden cameo at the end adds a perfect grace note to a lovely song.

5. N Apostrophe T

Jim Boyd and Lee Chamberlin play kids as they duet on this Tom Lehrer ode to contractions. Imagine trying to write a two-minute song incorporating “isn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t, didn’t, can’t, won’t, haven’t” and several others into the words. You "couldn’t" do it better than this.

4. Punctuation

“They are the little marks that use their influence…to help a sentence make more sense.” I can’t think of a cooler way to learn about periods, commas, question marks and exclamation points than this song, performed with Latin flair by Rita Moreno and in calypso style by Lee Chamberlin.

3. Lick a Lolly

This jet-propelled song with the tongue-twister lyric sounds like a lost track from Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound glory days. I’d love to know how many takes they needed to get through it. The vocalists seem out of breath at the end and I don’t blame them.

2. The Menu Song

There’s a lot of Tom Lehrer on this list, and that’s because he’s a genius. This is my favorite of his Electric Company contributions, for the escalating insanity of the menu selections, and for the performances by Morgan Freeman and Rita Moreno. Let's watch two Oscar winners at work.

1. The Sweet, Sweet Sway

The Short Circus started our top 20 and they take the top spot as well. From the way the song is presented you suspect the show knew they had something special in this Joe Raposo gem: Mel Mounds does a live intro of the group, who emerge from behind an elegant blue curtain. Other EC cast members are also there to watch the performance and try the dance. The lead vocal is by Denise Nickerson of Dark Shadows and Willy Wonka fame. If they had put “The Sweet, Sweet Sway” out as a single, it might have outsold Sesame Street’s “Rubber Duckie.”

It seems like July got here awfully quick, doesn’t it?

Here we are already in the most summery of the summer months – the season change from spring is now a distant memory, and fall still seems a long way away.

For classic TV fans, summer was the time when our favorite shows went away. And that was our cue to turn off the TV and stumble outside into the sunlight. The broadcast networks still adhere to this schedule, but with cable and streaming services launching new series year-round, those old viewing patterns are as much a relic of the past as this 1974 Zenith Console.

Summer never got much recognition in the shows from the Comfort TV era. Since the broadcast season of September through June paralleled that of the school year, we rarely saw families on sitcoms enjoy their summer vacation.

Of course, back then seasonal acknowledgments of any kind were inconsistent at best. There would be occasional references to Midwestern winters on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Laverne & Shirley, but most of the time mild temperatures prevailed in TV Land. The only time you saw snow was for the Christmas episodes.

Need a break from the summer sunshine? Here are three ways to commemorate the season with Comfort TV.

1. A GidgetMarathon

No classic TV series celebrated carefree, endless summer fun more than Gidget(1965). Loosely based on the 1959 film starting Sandra Dee, this was a series about the teenagers who surfed California’s beaches, at the very moment The Beach Boys immortalized them in song.

The only thing that could make this mythical era even more delightful is having 18 year-old Sally Field as your tour guide. She was the ideal Gidget – adorable, especially when she spoke directly to the audience during each episode – sassy, spunky and ever loyal to her understanding dad (Don Porter). Together, they created some of the best father-daughter sitcom moments ever captured.

The series was a flop the first time around, but audiences found it when it was rerun during the summer – not surprising in retrospect. In fact, the ratings were so big that ABC regretted the cancellation, and scrambled to find another vehicle for its suddenly hot star. Result? The Flying Nun, which ran three years. No, I don’t get it either.

There were just 32 episodes, so it won’t take you all summer to finish, and the DVD set features a new interview with Sally Field, who happily reflects on her beach bunny days.

2. Create Your Own Nick at Nite Block Party Summer

Back in the 1990s, when Nick at Nite was still dedicated to preserving our classic television heritage, the cable network launched the annual Block Party Summer celebration, replacing its regular programming lineup with prime-time five-episode marathons of its most popular shows.

Presented in “VertiVision” (a reference to absolutely nothing, but it was fun to say) a typical week would consist of “Munster Mondays,” “Lucy Tuesdays,” “Bewitched Be-Wednesdays,” “Jeannie Thursdays” and “Sgt. Joe Fridays.” Choose your own Block Party Summer lineup and get reacquainted with some old favorites. If a season-long commitment is too much, just try it for a week.

3. Hang Out at the Peach Pit

Beverly Hills 90210 debuted in 1991 – just outside our Comfort TV window, and a time in history when it wasn’t as fashionable to hate rich people as it is now. But it’s been 25 years since Brandon and Brenda Walsh moved to America’s best-known Zip code, so one cannot avoid a rush of nostalgia in returning to West Beverly High.

It’s listed here because the series owes its success to summertime. First season ratings were iffy, so the FOX Network broke with broadcast tradition and aired a summer season of new episodes. Bereft of competition, more people checked it out and a phenomenon was born – 90210 ran for ten years and 293 episodes.

I was not among those original viewers, and was already out of its targeted age group by the time I first saw it on DVD. It was easy to understand the show’s appeal; even with higher rates of shagging and alcohol consumption, the series shares common DNA with the more innocent high school shows of previous eras, from Dobie Gillis to Degrassi.

Plus, at a time when merchandising of prime-time series had all but ceased (would you buy a Jake and the Fatman lunch box?) 90210 brought back the glory days of 1970s tie-ins. There were posters, dolls, school supplies and everything marketers could think of to capitalize on the show’s photogenic cast.

You probably won’t want to revisit all ten seasons. I watched the first four and then bailed when Shannen Doherty left. Among the highlights: The Breakfast Club-like breaking down of cliques in “Slumber Party,” the first appearance of crazy Emily Valentine in “Wildfire,” and Cathy Dennis headlines the West Beverly senior prom in “A Night to Remember.”

Do you have any favorite summer shows or viewing habits you’d like to share? We still have two months before the fall season begins!

In Gods Like Us, film critic Ty Burr examines the history of media stardom, and why some actors become stars while others, for all their talent, remain merely actors. The phenomenon dates back before 1910, a time when performers in movies were un-credited but audiences noticed some of them anyway. Burr writes: “You discovered that you wanted to see this person again, not because of the part he or she played but because of who he or she was.”

That is how I have always felt about Brooke Bundy.

Why? I don’t know. Why are any of us drawn to certain actors or singers or comedians more than others? There is a quality in her that resonates with me, and I have no desire to subject that condition to deeper analysis. What would be the point? I just like Brooke Bundy.

I hope to see all of her television performances one day, though that’s likely impossible given her guest appearances on obscure 1960s series like Firehouse and My Friend Tony. The ones listed here I’ve seen many times. In fact I could have written this tribute from memory, but I went back and watched them all again because I can never spend enough time in her company.

The Donna Reed Show (1962)

In “To Be a Boy,” Jeff swears off girls just before Mary tries to introduce him to high-IQ introvert Joanne, played by Bundy as her first professional acting credit. The highlight is an extended scene where Joanne hides under Jeff’s bed. It’s played mostly in silence but Bundy’s expressions are captivating.

Mr. Novak (1963)

This is one of my favorite forgotten shows of the 1960s. James Franciscus plays an idealistic high school English teacher in a forerunner to Room 222, albeit without the ethnic diversity. Bundy makes the first of three series appearances in “X is the Unknown Factor” as Patrice, girlfriend to a brilliant but amoral student. With Franciscus, Dean Jagger as the principal, and guest stars like Ed Asner, Kim Darby, Kevin McCarthy and silent screen legend Lillian Gish, the acting bar was set very high throughout this series. Bundy more than holds her own in a scene where she confesses to cheating on a test to save her boyfriend from risking his scholarship.

Gidget (1965)

If you took my suggestion in last week’s blog about a summer Gidgetmarathon, you already encountered Brooke Bundy as Inge, a demure Swedish student engaged to a domineering young executive (played by a pre-Star Trek Walter Koenig). In “Gidget’s Foreign Policy,” Gidget vows to liberate her repressed houseguest before her husband-to-be returns in one week. Inge learns her lesson so well that she steals Gidget’s boyfriend and calls off her wedding.

Dragnet (1967)

It’s a tough segue from a lighthearted sitcom like Gidget to “The Little Victim,” a grim story about child abuse. Brooke Bundy plays the insecure, damaged young wife of an abusive husband. Her frightened, intense outbursts punctuate several powerful scenes, and the conclusion is almost too difficult to watch.

Daniel Boone (1968)

I can’t say I’m a huge fan of this series, but Bundy’s appearance in “Be Thankful for the Fickleness of Women” is one of my favorites of her performances. She plays Sarah, an indentured servant that Josh (Jimmy Dean) purchases so he can protect her from an abusive lout. But once he owns Sarah, he has no idea what to do with her.

Mission: Impossible (1969)

“The Controllers” is a two-part M:I episode, something I’ve already asserted the series does not do well. The team must put a stop to experiments with a dangerous mind control drug being conducted behind the Iron Curtain. Bundy plays Katherine, a prisoner subjected to the treatment. She doesn’t do much more than suffer through these two episodes, but like Garbo she does it memorably.

My Three Sons (1971)

Brooke Bundy made four appearances on this long-running sitcom, ranging from 1963’s “Robbie Wins His Letter” to “Debbie” in 1971. The last one is my favorite because she rarely ventures into Tuesday Weld territory – a flirty blonde using her wiles to get out of trouble. In “Debbie” she turns the heads of all the Douglas men, though Ernie is particularly smitten.

The Partridge Family (1973)

Keith Partridge shares my Brooke Bundy infatuation. In “Heartbreak Keith” he falls hard for college classmate Dory, an “older woman” of 23. He mistakenly believes she loves him too – and then finds out she’s married.

The episode is worth watching not just for Bundy’s performance as Dory but for the unique set design of her character’s home – it’s like the entire ‘70s exploded in one room. The episode also features one of the best fourth season Partridge tunes, “I Heard You Singing Your Song.”

The Brady Bunch (1974)

“Kelly’s Kids” is an episode most fans skip because the Bradys are hardly in it. Ken Berry and Brooke Bundy play Brady neighbors Ken and Kathy Kelly, who adopt one son from an orphanage, then go back to adopt his two best friends – one is African-American, the other is Asian. The show was a spinoff attempt written by Sherwood Schwartz, trying to recreate his Bradysuccess with another variation of a blended family (The Benetton Brood?). Berry and Bundy are eminently likable, but I’m not sure the series would have lasted.

Land of the Lost (1975)

In a misty marsh, Rick and Will find the remnants of a strange spacecraft out of which appears Brooke Bundy (in a most unfortunate hairstyle) as Sharon, a woman who claims to have lost her way. Rick takes a liking to her, but Will and Holly suspect there is more to Sharon’s story. “The Zarn” is typically trippy Krofft fun, with a bizarre ending that baffles as much as it impresses.

Charlie’s Angels (1977)

In “The Vegas Connection,” one of the better first season shows, the Angels bring down a blackmailer working out of a Vegas casino showroom. Sixteen years ago, I wrote this in The Charlie’s Angels Casebook: “As Elsbeth, a tough girl with a soft heart who helps the Angels…Brooke Bundy contributes one of the most memorable single-episode guest appearances of the series’ run. Her introduction as a potential love interest for Bosley could have been explored further, perhaps in a subsequent episode.” I still wish they had gone there.

Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987)

Twenty-five years after her TV debut, and just four years before she left the business to become an acting teacher, Brooke Bundy served on the Starship Enterprise. In “The Naked Now,” the crew falls under the influence of a virus that causes everyone to act drunk and silly. A good idea but one better saved for a later show (this was just the second episode broadcast): if viewers had been given time to get to know these characters, it would have been more fun to watch how their behavior changes. Also, Wesley saves the ship, setting an unwelcome precedent for future stories.

Casting was a critical component in every Comfort TV show. Today we can’t imagine other actors in many iconic roles, yet it’s fascinating to contemplate how close we were to watching Gene Hackman as Mike Brady, Lyle Waggoner as Batman, or Stephen Stills as one of The Monkees.

Once a pilot is shot there is usually no turning back. But post-pilot cuts happen for any number of reasons, as we’ll see in this look at some of the more intriguing examples from the Comfort TV era. We all know how these shows turned out – the more intriguing question is whether they would still been successful without the last-minute change. Let's take a brief glimpse into an alternate classic TV universe.

Mark Hamill as David Bradford

Eight is Enough

Shortly before filming began on the show’s second episode, Mark Hamill had a rollover car accident on a highway off-ramp, fracturing his nose and cheek. As he was too injured to come back he had to be replaced by Grant Goodeve. And he was never heard from again.

Would it have worked?

Probably, based on the pilot, though it would have been a different series. Grant Goodeve is a year younger than Hamill but on the show he appears older and more mature. David has several verbal altercations with his father in the first season, and with Goodeve those scenes play like quarrels between two adults. Hamill plays David more like Willie Aames would play middle son Tommy – a hotheaded teenager with an antiestablishment attitude.

And consider this: if Hamill had been a better driver, we wouldn’t have this version of the theme song.

Sharon Tate as Billie Jo Bradley

Petticoat Junction

No pilot was requested for this series, which CBS purchased sight unseen based on creator Paul Henning’s success with The Beverly Hillbillies.Sharon Tate was given the role of flirtatious Billie Jo Bradley, and appears in early publicity photos with the rest of the cast.

But when the network discovered Tate had also posed for some much racier photos, she was dropped and the role recast with Jeannine Riley.

Would it have worked?

Without any footage it’s hard to tell. The series featured three Billie Jos in seven seasons, so it was certainly durable enough to survive no matter who was cast (Riley was replaced after two seasons by Gunilla Hutton, who one year later was replaced by Meredith MacRae). However, based on Tate’s somewhat stiff and unmemorable Beverly Hillbillies appearances as secretary Janet Trego, she wasn’t yet ready for a series lead.

Liberty Williams as Tabitha Stevens

Tabitha

Bewitchedfans might enjoy the original Tabithapilot more than the version with Lisa Hartman, as the story offers parallels to the first Bewitched episode. Here, it’s Tabitha “coming out” as a witch to a significant other, who retreats to a bar to ponder his new normal. But when it didn’t work ABC scrapped the entire concept and started over – new supporting characters, new workplace, and even a spelling change – in this pilot she’s “Tabatha.”

Would it have worked?

Considering the series didn’t last with Lisa Hartman, it was likely beyond saving. But Liberty Williams was hardly the weakest link in a show with multiple issues. You may not be familiar with her but if you’ve seen Joyce Dewitt on Three’s Company you know the type – similar look, similar plucky charm. And yes, a brunette, which is a superficial objection to her playing a grown-up Erin Murphy, but still one of those details that bothers me, like changing Bruce Banner to David Banner on The Incredible Hulk.

As for Liberty, billed for most of her credits as Louise Williams, she later tested for and almost got the role of Shirley in Laverne & Shirley, then went on to voice Wonder Twin Jayna in Superfriends.

Tim Dunigan as Templeton Peck

The A-Team

Dwight Schultz (Murdock) has often told the story about how he was certain he was going to be fired from The A-Team. It was Tim Dunigan who kept reassuring him throughout filming the pilot that his job was safe and he was going to be fine. Ironically, it was Dunigan who was replaced by Dirk Benedict, when producers decided he looked too young for the role of a Vietnam vet.

Would it have worked?

Not this time. In the pilot Dunigan assumes a number of roles as the team’s resident con man, from a priest to a millionaire cowboy. And it just doesn’t resonate. This was material that had to be played with a wink, but his scenes with the rest of the team lacked the camaraderie that sustained The A-Teamthrough years of repetitive scripts. According to IMDB he quit acting and now works as a mortgage broker.

Elizabeth Ward as Carol Seaver

Growing Pains

Elizabeth Ward had appeared in a couple of lesser-known ABC Afterschool Specials prior to being cast as Carol Seaver in the original Growing Pains pilot, shot in 1985. She didn’t click with test audiences, and was replaced by Tracey Gold, who hesitated to come back after being rejected once already. She changed her mind and rejoined a series that aired for seven seasons. Elizabeth Ward guest-starred in a Simon & Simon episode the following year, and never got another job. It’s a rough business.

Would it have worked?

I think so. In the original pilot Ward was even more bookish than Gold in the show’s early seasons, but there’s no reason to assume she couldn’t have guided Carol through adolescence much like her replacement.

Susan Lanier as Chrissy Snow

Three’s Company

Three’s Company needed three pilots before finding the right combination of roommates. John Ritter was there from the start, and was originally joined by Valerie Curtin and Susanne Zenor (playing Samantha, not Chrissy). Pilot #2 brought in Joyce Dewitt, and Susan Lanier as Chrissy Snow. Neither pilot ever aired, though both are available on various Three’s Company DVD releases.

Would it have worked?

I may be in the minority here, but I think so. To be fair, we may not be seeing Lanier’s best effort, as she was called in as a last minute substitute for another actress invited to audition. And if you’ve seen her in other shows playing similar characters, it’s clear she has some comedy chops. But at the time Suzanne Somers had more experience and professional credits, and one can’t deny the chemistry she developed with Ritter and Dewitt.

Louie Anderson as Larry Appleton

Perfect Strangers

There was never any doubt about the casting of Bronson Pinchot, as Perfect Strangers was developed (after several false starts) around his offbeat immigrant character. Finding the right foil would be critical, and the network’s first choice was comedian Louie Anderson.

“They hated me,” is all Anderson said in a TV interview about the filmed and then buried pilot. Mark Linn-Baker, invited to test after a guest spot on Moonlighting, proved a more popular choice.

Would it have worked?

Having not seen the Anderson pilot it’s difficult to speculate, but I would guess that ABC made the right call. Perhaps the objective was to develop a modern-day Laurel & Hardy with this duo, but Anderson’s persona of a self-deprecating gentle giant was already in place from his standup – if he played Larry that passively it would not have worked opposite Pinchot’s more manic Balki. Certainly he could have been asked to try something different, but on a TV series it’s always the actor that shapes the character more than the character dictates an actor’s choices. Sooner or later writers would have started playing to Anderson's traits, which are different from those that Mark Linn-Baker brought to the role.

Back in 2013 I posted a piece about some of the ways classic TV fans watch their DVD collections. One of the most intriguing methods is recreating an evening of network television as it was broadcast 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.

Since then, more classic series have become available on DVD, as well as via such nostalgia channels as Me-TV and Antenna. That means it’s now possible to enjoy even more retro TV nights.

Journey back with me to a time when there were just three networks, TV Guide was a quality publication, and you’d never see a commercial that contained the phrase “Ask your doctor about…”

NBC: Wednesday, 1971

Adam-12

NBC Mystery Movie

Night Gallery

One of the benefits of this lineup is variety, as with the Mystery Movie you can alternate as NBC did between Columbo, McMillan & Wifeand McCloud. Adam-12 is one of the better police procedurals, and as you’d expect from a Jack Webb series finds much to respect in the job of law enforcement. Rod Serling’s Night Gallerywas inconsistent, but its best installments make the series a worthy successor to The Twilight Zone.

CBS: Monday, 1974

Gunsmoke

Maude

Rhoda

Medical Center

I’d be curious to hear the strategy behind these pairings – if indeed there was any. How many viewers of a traditional western like Gunsmoke, now nearing the end of its 20-year run, did CBS believe would stick around for the liberal politics of Maude? That’s like following The Lawrence Welk Showwith MTV’s Headbangers Ball.

From there it’s an easier transition to Rhoda, another sitcom with a strong-willed and charismatic female lead, before delving into disease of the week drama with Chad Everett on Medical Center.

ABC: Tuesday, 1987

Who’s the Boss

Growing Pains

Moonlighting

Thirtysomething

The theme for this evening could be “shows that didn’t age as well as we expected.” Who’s the Boss and Growing Pains ran eight seasons and seven seasons, respectively, and together still provide a likable hour of family sitcom fun. Classics? Not on my scorecard but yours may vary. Moonlighting was a revelation in its day – a brilliant speedball of detective fiction and fourth-wall breaking anarchy. The magic was short-lived (barely three seasons, though the show ran five) and the series ended awkwardly amidst declining quality and star ego turmoil. Thirtysomething, likewise, seemed like something brand new when it debuted – a postmodern baby boomer domestic drama. It was popular and critically acclaimed, but was also derided for too much navel-gazing. I wouldn’t revisit this lineup often, but it makes an interesting diversion from the warhorses in my collection.

NBC: Thursday, 1964

Daniel Boone

Dr. Kildare

Hazel

Here you have three shows with absolutely nothing in common, begging the question of why some long-forgotten NBC programmer decided to put them together. I tried this rotation once and it didn’t really work for me. But if your tastes run to the eclectic you may enjoy an evening that starts in 18^th century Kentucky, segues into medical crises in 20^th century Blair General Hospital, then lightens the mood with a mouthy maid, Missy and Mr. B.

ABC: Tuesday, 1975

Happy Days

Welcome Back, Kotter

The Rookies

Marcus Welby, M.D.

It’s Tiger Beat night! Henry Winkler and Scott Baio were always in the teen magazines, as was John Travolta in his Barbarino days. And Michael Ontkean was considered quite the dreamboat on The Rookies (he left before the 1975 season, but if you're going to try this lineup it's acceptable to cheat with a 1974 episode). With Marcus Welby it wasn’t Robert Young that made the girls swoon but costar James Brolin as motorcycle-riding surgeon Steven Kiley. Back in the day he was cooler than Clooney on E.R.

CBS: Friday, 1981

The Incredible Hulk

The Dukes of Hazzard

Dallas

Now we’re talking. Happy memories for me here, as in 1981 Friday meant sleeping late the next morning and no school for two days. I was primed for escapist entertainment and CBS obliged. The Incredible Hulk found an audience in an era when comic book adaptations were scarce, thanks mainly to Bill Bixby’s poignant portrayal of David Banner. The Dukes of Hazzard wasn’t based on a comic book but it might as well have been, while Dallas offered a more upscale take on Southern pride. For different reasons none of these shows could be taken seriously – just the way I liked them.

William Windom’s name in a TV show’s guest cast instantly raises my attention level. Now, I think, this episode stands every chance of being worth watching.

Windom had several prominent film credits, including the attorney opposing Gregory Peck’s Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. But television offered the steadiest work, and a glance at the diversity of his credits suggests that he was happy to take whatever was offered and make the most of it. Often that was more than it deserved. But when he got a good part, he made it better.

He was often described as an everyman, though that seems like dubious praise. He could indeed elevate a “regular guy” role with his natural gravitas, but as you’ll see from the ten TV credits I selected, he played a wide range of whimsical and extreme characters as well.

The Twilight Zone (1961)

“Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an army major. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness.” Thus begins “Five Characters in Search of an Exit,” one of the series’ most brilliant and surreal episodes. Windom plays the soldier, whose “We’re in hell” speech offers one possible explanation for their plight – but not the correct one.

The Lucy Show (1962)

“Lucy Digs Up a Date,” the series’ second episode, is not a standout moment for Windom or anyone involved, but it’s interesting in how it reveals Lucille Ball’s newfound command of her set. Content to let husband Desi call the shots on I Love Lucy, Ball was clearly in charge from here on out, and part of that was reflected in her guidance of guest stars. She believed broader comedy had to be played at an exaggerated volume, so here you have William Windom playing a math teacher, and projecting conversational lines in a way that borders on the unnatural. It's a chance to see a good actor being directed into a less than polished performance.

The Donna Reed Show (1962)

In “Wide Open Spaces” the Stones take a trip to the country to visit friends David and Millie Adams (William Windom and Patricia Breslin), who left the city (against Millie’s wishes) to fulfill David’s dream of living on a farm. This Green Acres prototype was a back door pilot for a series that would have replaced The Donna Reed Show, had Reed followed through on her plans to retire from TV after this season. She didn’t, so we’re left with what-might-have-been questions on a promising concept. Fortunately, Windom didn’t have to wait much longer for series stardom.

The Farmer’s Daughter (1963)

William Windom plays widowed Congressman Glenn Morley. Inger Stevens plays Swedish-American farm girl Katy Holstrum, who comes to Washington hoping to secure a Peace Corps post, but instead becomes governess to Glenn’s two young sons.

It’s a mystery to me why some 1960s shows have been rerun for 50 years while others vanished, rarely to be seen again. The Farmer’s Daughterlasted three seasons and just over 100 episodes, more than enough for syndication. What’s more, it was a warm and uplifting situation comedy with a sweet romantic chemistry between Windom and Stevens. It deserved a better fate.

The Invaders (1967)

The two-part “Summit Meeting” finds David Vincent working with defense contractor Michael Tressider (Windom) to save the world from an alien plot to destroy humanity with elevated radiation. This was always an intense series, and Windom works well with star Roy Thinnes in escalating the tension as their characters join forces to prevent disaster. Great guest cast here – Ford Rainey, Diana Hyland and Michael Rennie.

Star Trek (1967)

In “The Doomsday Machine” The Enterprise finds the U.S.S. Constellation adrift, with Commodore Matthew Decker (Windom) as the only surviving crew member. Windom is masterful as the Captain Ahab-like Decker, clearly suffering from post-traumatic stress before that condition was even widely known. It is arguably the single best performance by a guest actor in the original series.

My World and Welcome to It (1969)

It was billed as a series “based on stories, inspirational pieces, cartoons, and things that go bump in the night by James Thurber.”

And it was all that and more…and still got the axe after one season. Maybe audiences just weren’t ready for a fanciful family sitcom about a cartoonist who has conversations with his drawings, talks to the viewers, and drifts in and out of fantasy sequences. As said cartoonist, William Windom won the Emmy for Best Actor in a Comedy Series. His affinity for Thurber endured after the show was canceled – he toured the country with a solo show based on the author’s works.

Night Gallery (1971)

The first time I watched the Rod Serling-penned “They’re Tearing Down Tim Riley’s Bar,” I didn’t get it. Night Gallery was supposed to be a scary show. What was frightening about the plight of Randy Lane (Windom), a widowed businessman pushing 50, who falls into a deep depression when he learns his favorite watering hole is about to meet the wrecking ball? It took a second viewing to get over my misplaced expectations and appreciate Serling’s sentimental story, and yet another amazing performance by William Windom.

The Partridge Family (1973)

In “Bedknobs and Drumsticks” the family agrees to film a commercial for Uncle Erwin’s Country Fried Chicken. Erwin (Windom) rejects the classy first attempt and insists on a second version – with the family wearing chicken suits.

The cast hated this episode because of those suits but it’s one of the funnier third-season shows. From a one-note role, Windom manages to create a complete character that you can easily imagine having a real life beyond his few minutes of screen time.

Murder She Wrote (1985)

For a generation of ‘80s kids forced to watch Murder, She Wrote with their parents (or because they wanted to – come on, Angela Lansbury was cool!) William Windom is best known as Jessica Fletcher’s portly, white-haired friend and chess partner, Dr. Seth Hazlitt. He was a resident of Cabot Cove for 11 years and appeared in more than 50 episodes.

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