Lost '70s Show - Found! Tenafly

During my ongoing review of the 1970s prime time schedules, I've kept a list of the shows I’ve never seen. It’s always fun when I get to cross a series off that list, and I can now do so with Tenafly, thanks to a kind soul who uploaded the first episode to YouTube a few months ago.

From 1973, Tenafly was introduced as a new entry in the NBC Wednesday Mystery Movie wheel. It debuted on Oct. 10 and lasted just one season. James McEachin played Harry Tenafly, a happily married, middle class family man who gave up being a police officer to work as a private investigator for a large L.A. detective agency.

The corporate approach to this profession is one rarely covered on television – most TV private eyes are lone wolfs, operating out of rundown offices and working the streets for clues. Tenafly was one of many investigators in an upscale building in a fancy office park. He has a desk and a secretary, and a grouchy boss who hands out assignments.

In the first episode, however, the client comes directly to him. Ted Harris (Ed Nelson) is a popular but controversial radio talk show host who returns home from work to find his wife dead in their home. He calls Tenafly because Harry is one of his most frequent callers and on-air sparring partners.

Harry takes the case and quickly tracks down the man with whom the victim was having an affair – but did he really do it, or was it someone else? A coat hanger turns out to be the key to unravelling the case.

Tenafly was created by Richard Levinson and William Link, the creators of Columbo, Mannix and Murder, She Wrote. Obviously that’s a positive sign, and you can see the level of professionalism in every aspect of production. I enjoyed the episode I watched and would gladly sample more – so the question is why didn’t it last longer?

I don’t have an easy answer. I do know that the ratio of hits to misses for the Wednesday and Sunday Mystery Movie wheels is likely not as impressive as you might remember. For every McCloud and Columbo there was an Amy Prentiss and Lanigan’s Rabbi. If there wasn’t an intriguing enough hook to bring viewers back, NBC wasted no time dropping some concepts and replacing them with others.

Even outside the Mystery Movie universe, the most successful 70s detective shows all had some unique feature to separate them from the crowd. Cannon was a portly fellow, Barnaby Jones a senior citizen. McCloud was a country boy in the city. The only special feature one could associate with Tenafly was that he was black – and that was enough in 1973.

To its credit – and I’ll choose my words carefully here – while this was a show with a black leading man, it wasn’t a show about a black leading man. At least from the episode I watched race was not a factor in any aspect of the story or his character. Contrast that with Shaft, which also debuted that October with Richard Roundtree reprising his iconic film role, in which the African American experience was intrinsic to its authenticity. That series was likewise canceled after one season.

It's too easy to say audiences were not ready for a show with a black leading man – not after Greg Morris’s contributions to Mission: Impossible and Lloyd Haynes in Room 222. Maybe fans of the Shaft films found the TV version too watered-down, and Mystery Movie viewers found Tenafly too generic.

Whatever the reason, at least in the latter case, it was our loss. But happily, James McEachin remained in demand as an actor, working steadily for the next three decades. You may remember him best as Lt. Brock in the series of Perry Mason TV movies that aired throughout the 1980s. He was also a Korean War veteran who according to IMDB, earned several medals for valor including the Silver Star. He died in 2025 at the age of 94, after a life well lived.

My Visit to the Brady House

In 2019 I reviewed A Very Brady Renovation, the four-part HGTV series in which the Brady Bunch house shown in nearly every series episode was purchased and renovated into a replica of the home that is as familiar to series fans as their own.

Back then I wrote: “The entire project was a completely impractical thing to do, requiring thousands of hours and millions of dollars. But seeing the results, it feels like time and money well spent. I only wish that all of us who love the show would have an opportunity to visit this treasured TV Land artifact that, most improbably, now exists in our mundane real world.”

Well, it took a few years, but the home is now open, and not long ago I made my pilgrimage to this Comfort TV shrine. I’m still struggling to find the words to describe the experience.

I’ve been to TV show tapings, where the rooms that looked so expansive on television appear much smaller on a soundstage. I still remember my first look at Laverne and Shirley’s apartment, and how it was now bordered by plywood dividers and resembled a miniature replica when viewed at a distance from the studio audience. This was an entirely different experience, being immersed in this space. There were no cameras or overhead lighting grids. I was in a real home on a real street in a real community.

I could easily see how visitors may envision themselves transported into that alternate universe where Mike would announce “Honey, I’m home!” as he strode through the living room, briefcase in hand, wearing a shirt louder than a Motorhead concert. While Carol greets him, Alice is in the kitchen making dinner, and the kids are upstairs in their respective bedrooms, dealing with that week’s adolescent trauma.

Did I feel that way? Not quite. Much as I have loved this show since childhood, my imagination wouldn’t carry me that far. I’ve never been one of those people who go to Disneyland and stand in line to “meet” Ariel or Cinderella and talk with them as if they were the actual characters from the movie. I admire those with the childlike wonder to preserve that illusion, spending a few moments with someone who is, to me, a coed from Orange County who happened to be blessed with the features of a princess.

This world has made me too cynical for such flights of fancy – but I’ll admit to the occasional twinge of a surreal but soothing sensation inside the Brady residence. 

I had entered someplace special, isolated from harsh reality, much like the Bradys themselves were portrayed in the 1995 movie that gently poked fun at their out-of-step existence.

In every room there are reminders of specific episodes – clearly, someone had done their homework before opening the house to fans who have watched every episode dozens of times.

Marcia’s many ribbons and awards fill the dresser in the girl’s bedroom (along with a letter from Davy Jones), while on the desk is Jan’s essay about America, which almost won a contest. Kitty Karry-All rests on Cindy’s bed. 

In the boys’ room you’ll see the newspaper clipping proclaiming Peter a hero for saving a little girl in Driscoll’s toy store, and above Greg’s bed a copy of The Red Badge of Courage – remember when that was mentioned?

There’s a house of cards in the living room, and a silver platter engraved with the names of all six kids. 

Items on the family room table recall other memorable episodes, and in the den Mike proudly displays his “Father of the Year” plaque. Alice’s bedroom is here as well, as are the parents’ bedroom and Greg’s converted attic, complete with Raquel the goat and sheet music for “We Can Make the World a Whole Lot Brighter.”

I went through all the rooms at least three times and each time found something I missed in my previous visit. Even the backyard offers a few familiar sights.

And if you were curious, even with all the references to specific shows, I did not see any related to Cousin Oliver. I applaud that decision.

Thinking of going? Here’s what you need to know. The cost is $275 for 90 minutes, and an advance reservation is required. Don’t expect to have the house to yourself – there may be other visitors who booked the same day and time (there were when I was there) and there are two tour reps who monitor guests to make sure no one walks off with any artifacts.

Other ground rules: you must take your shoes off before entering, you’re not allowed to sit on the furniture, and for heaven’s sake don’t play ball in the house (yes, the vase featured in that episode is back in its rightful place). You are, however, allowed to open the refrigerator – and you’ll know why once you do.

Final thoughts: I’m sure that price may seem high to some, but for the moment business is brisk. One of the home’s caretakers told me that they’ve seen visitors walk in and burst into tears. I get that. Perhaps, growing up, the Brady house was the only happy home they knew.

I write about classic TV here and in my books because it means something to me. Something beyond mere escapism and entertainment. That someone thought enough to provide the time and effort required to transform the Brady Bunch house suggests that I am not alone in those sentiments. The generations that grew up with the series are, to paraphrase Bob Dylan, “so much older then,” but also “younger than that now.” Here is a place to be younger, feel younger, and believe once more in sunshine days.

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Monday Nights, 1977

We're just up to day two in our journey through 1977, and I have a feeling it’s going to be an interesting year.

I saw a YouTube video about how this was one of the worst years for television, and that probably means more than a few short-lived series that I’ll have to add to my “missed” list. But quality is in the eye of the beholder, and from what I’ve watched and read about some of these quickly canceled efforts I’d bet they were a whole lot better than what their networks are serving up these days. Let’s take a closer look.


CBS
Young Dan’l Boone
The Betty White Show
Maude
Rafferty

Don’t expect to see any of these shows again when we get to Monday nights in 1978.

Daniel Boone, starring Fess Parker as the famed frontiersman, was a hit for NBC in the 1960s, running six seasons and 165 episodes. CBS gambled that audiences would return for a new series about Boone’s early years, with Rick Moses in the title role. They were wrong – only eight episodes were made, and only half of them aired before the plug was pulled.

After The Mary Tyler Moore Show ended its storied run, Betty White and Georgia Engel reteamed for The Betty White Show, with White playing Joyce Whitman, an actress who lands the starring role in a police action series called “Undercover Woman.” Engel played her best friend, and John Hillerman costarred as the show’s director – and Joyce’s ex-husband.

It was created by the same team who launched Taxi, and had some of that show’s acerbic wit, but even the outsized public affection for Betty White was no match for the popularity of Monday Night Football. A schedule change might have kept the series around longer, but CBS opted instead to cut its losses and cancel it after 14 episodes.

Maude was already on life support in its final season – an attempt to revive interest by Maude being appointed to a congressional post by the governor did little to stimulate ratings.

As for Rafferty, I have to confess that I had either never heard of it or completely forgotten about it. But from the description it was basically House before House: Patrick McGoohan starred as a gruff but brilliant doctor who was able to diagnose and treat rare medical conditions. 

McGoohan apparently called it “the most miserable job I’ve ever done in my life,” but I’ll be checking YouTube regularly in hopes of finding a full episode to watch. The clips that are there already suggest this was a series worth watching despite its star’s frustrations.



ABC
The San Pedro Beach Bums
Monday Night Football

The one-hour sitcom is a television anomaly. It’s been tried occasionally but never with lasting success, as evidenced by The San Pedro Beach Bums, which lasted all of ten episodes before being canceled.

Aaron Spelling had a magic touch in the ‘70s but this series was a rare misfire. He stacked the deck in its favor with guest spots from all three of Charlie’s Angels in the first episode – Jaclyn Smith, Kate Jackson and Cheryl Ladd. That’s one reason I still remember it – the other is the phrase “Football, you bet!” spoken repeatedly in episode two, “The Shortest Yard.” Not sure why that stuck in so many viewers’ memory banks, but for those of a certain age it’s just one more useless nugget taking up space that could be occupied by a Psalm or a Shakespeare sonnet.


NBC
Little House on the Prairie
NBC Monday Night Movie

Not as much to talk about here but let’s give the Peacock network its due, as Monday night was a rare ratings win in a decade dominated by CBS and then ABC.

Now in its fourth season, Little House finished the year at #7, followed by the Monday Night Movie at #15. Looking down the list of episodes it’s impressive how many were either written or directed (or both) by star Michael Landon, making this series as much a product of one man’s vision as Jack Webb’s Dragnet or Ozzie Nelson’s suburban adventures. The season’s final episode, the two-part “I’ll Be Waving as You Drive Away,” was ranked by TV Guide among the 100 greatest episodes of all time.


Shows Missed:
The Don Knotts Show (1970)
San Francisco International Airport (1970)
Nancy (1970)
The Headmaster (1970)
The Man and the City (1971)
Search (1972)
Assignment: Vienna (1972)
The Delphi Bureau (1972)
Jigsaw (1972)
The Little People (1972)
The Sixth Sense (1972)
Tenafly (1973)
Faraday & Company (1973)
Kodiak (1974)
The New Land (1974)
McCoy (1975)
Joe and Sons (1975)
Beacon Hill (1975)
Mobile One (1975)
Big Eddie (1975)
Executive Suite (1976)
Ball Four (1976)
Young Dan’l Boone (1977)
Rafferty (1977)

Saying Farewell to Luke, Buck, and Meathead

In my last piece I wrote how this was not a happy holiday season for me. The last thing I would have wanted was for so many others to share in my melancholy. But since then, the news coming out of the world of classic television has been nothing but sad.

Rob Reiner
I’ve written before of my general lack of enthusiasm for the shows created by Norman Lear. But even in that piece I acknowledged their quality, popularity, and the ways in which they broadened the television sitcom landscape. Few series in the history of the medium were as revolutionary as All in the Family. It was so game changing that CBS aired a ‘brace yourselves’ warning before the first episode:

“The program you are about to see is ‘All in the Family.’ It seeks to throw a humorous spotlight on our frailties, prejudices and concerns. By making them a source of laughter we hope to show – in a mature fashion – just how absurd they are.”

If viewers were shocked it didn’t stop them from watching. From 1971 to 1976 All in the Family was television’s #1 show, and its four leads and the characters they played became pop culture icons. I think Rob Reiner as Mike Stivic had the most challenging role.

I’m not sure if Norman Lear was prepared for the extent to which audiences embraced Archie Bunker. He was brusque and bigoted but working-class viewers struggled with the same challenges as Archie and were just as confused by changing mores and attitudes. And, as demonstrated by the election of a certain chief executive, they liked plain talk even when it was harsh, and preferred it to Ivy League philosophizing from over-educated eggheads who claimed to know everything except how to pay rent.

Mike was Archie’s sparring partner on all the political and social issues of the day.

He was right much of the time, but he was still Meathead. And yet viewers came to care about him and Gloria as much as they loved Archie and Edith. Maybe that’s why, when fans recall the show now, they may first remember the tender moments rather than the arguments.

Reiner appeared on other classic TV shows as well – in bit parts on That Girl and Gomer Pyle, in a classroom on Room 222, and as the head of a biker gang on The Partridge Family. But All in the Family would define him as an actor, and then he achieved an even more impressive second act as the director of the some of the finest films of the last 30 years.


Anthony Geary
Few actors in history had as profound an impact on an entire genre as Anthony Geary did on daytime dramas. There were soaps before Luke Spencer arrived in Port Charles on General Hospital, but the magnetism Geary brought to that character raised the game of his costars and expanded the storytelling possibilities available to writers, while elevating soaps to a level of popularity previously unattained.

We must also credit Gloria Monty here, who created the character and the pairing of Luke and Laura, whose 1981 wedding remains to this day the most-watched episode of any daytime drama. I was one of those viewers. At the time I checked in on other soaps occasionally, but GH is the one I stuck with and still watch to this day. Geary was one of the main reasons for that, along with Tristan Rogers and Jackie Zeman and so many others, many of whom are also gone as well.

Luke was the ultimate antihero, in a genre where the heroes and villains were routinely so well-defined. He raped Laura before he married her and the audience still cheered. Not many actors could pull that off, but Geary did. When the material was great he made it greater, and when it was implausible as it often is on soaps, he made us believe it.

Like Rob Reiner he was also on All in the Family and The Partridge Family, and back in the day he sold a lot of Members Only jackets.

Gil Gerard
There is a loyalty and special affection that exists between fans of science fiction and the actors who bring its adventures to life.

You see it at the conventions for Star Trek and Doctor Who, and it endures even for less celebrated series like Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, which lasted just two seasons and 37 episodes. But more than 40 years later Gil Gerard’s table at autograph shows featured a steady stream of adults who were once kids, cheering in front of their 21-inch Zenith Chromacolor TV sets as Buck fought space vampires and the war witch Zarina.

Once described as “Logan’s Run on laughing gas,” this was one of the shows that characterized American sci-fi TV in the 1970s. Despite being saddled with the cute robot (Twiki) that every sci-fi franchise required after Star Wars, Gil Gerard and Erin Gray tried to play the material straight, but always with a wink to the audience. I still have my Mego Buck Rogers figure, mint in box I might add, and I’m sorry now I never went to one of his shows to get him to sign it.

As we learned from Galaxy Quest, sci-fi actors sometimes have a love-hate relationship with the roles that made them famous and the fans that still think they’re awesome after their hairlines recede and their bellies expand. But I’ve never heard anyone say they met Gerard and were not treated with kindness and appreciation. After his wife posted the news of his death on social media, the more than 3,500 comments (and counting) serve as a testament to his legacy.

"Your time as Buck Rogers was way too short but it has stayed with me in my childhood memories for 45+ years," one man wrote. "Your hero was brave, macho, but also kind, compassionate, and fair. I feel as if that was representative of the man you truly were. Thank you for being the kind of 'make believe' hero that we should all want to be in real life."

And we who are left soldier on.  

Holidays Not Happy This Year? TV Can Help

This will be my first Christmas after both of my parents have passed away, and I’m not looking forward to it. But this is not a plea for sympathy.

That I’ve reached by 61st year before confronting this reality is a tremendous blessing. I can (and will) look back on more than 50 Christmas celebrations with family and friends, and another half-dozen that were more intimate gatherings, but still congenial. And even this year I haven’t lost sight of the fact that Christmas transcends trees and presents and carries as always the tidings of great joy spoken of by Luke and Linus.

But this funk is not easily shaken, its impact felt even in my annual month-long marathon of 25 or so favorite classic TV holiday episodes. In previous years they were a supplement to other pleasures of the season. This year, outside of attending Christmas worship service, they will likely be all I’ve got. Will they help?

Thus far I can say that they have.

The viewing has been more haphazard, though I knew there would be a few that would be on the agenda regardless of circumstances. I watched the Cannonball, decorated for the holiday, rolling through the Hooterville countryside on Petticoat Junction. 

I watched Joe Friday and Bill Gannon on Dragnet investigate the disappearance of the baby Jesus figure from a Nativity display. Its moving final scene, filmed at the San Fernando Mission Church, and Friday’s last line, never fail to get me as close to choking up as my crusty old heart will allow.

I watched the Monkees sing “Riu Chiu” and Blair Warner sing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” on The Facts of Life. Funny thing – all the Facts holiday shows involve Christmas plans that do not go as expected, yet they manage to celebrate anyway. That’s also true of the Bob Newhart Show holiday episodes, which are among my favorites. There are lessons to take away from there.

I watched the guests on Hotel, all away from home, find ways to make the most of a holiday in unfamiliar circumstances. I watched Mary Richards coping with having to work on Christmas. And I watched the holiday episodes of The Doris Day Show – because it’s hard to stay gloomy anywhere in the vicinity of Doris Day.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir once again delivered my favorite of the many
classic TV riffs on Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. And I don’t think I’ve made it through a holiday season in more than 20 years without watching Carol Brady get her voice back in time to sing at church, Donna Stone make sure the children in a hospital ward have a Christmas party, and Samantha Stephens introduce a skeptical orphan to Santa Claus.

And I watched some of the holiday-themed commercials from the 1970s and ‘80s, featuring so many retailers that we’ve lost, and giving us moments as touching as the shows they played alongside.

Maybe there was still something missing from the experience this time around. But there were also thoughts that were triggered in unexpected moments that had never surfaced before.

There’s a tag scene in the Wings episode “Insanity Claus” showing an older man, a member of the maintenance staff at the small airport in Nantucket, vacuuming the rug in the air traffic control tower, late at night on Christmas Eve. He is clearly the only employee still working and still in the building. He’s not even the focal point of the scene, yet I found myself wondering if he celebrated with his family before going to work, or if like many seniors he’s alone, and to him Christmas Eve is just another night.

Maybe that’s the point of all this – noticing the less fortunate, even as we join their ranks for a while. When we’re awash in things to do and parties and presents to buy, we don’t tend to think about those without such plans. That’s why the Lord gives us holidays like mine this year – to recognize how many aren’t with their loved ones on Christmas. It’s a chance to remember them in our prayers, and perhaps even alleviate some of their loneliness with a card, or a kind word, or maybe an invitation to share memories and a glass of egg nog.

Television shows – even the most festive and heartwarming episodes of classic series, can never replace the people we miss, but they’re not mere distractions either. Like the ornaments on your tree, or the family recipe for chestnut turkey stuffing handed down from generations past, they are a beloved part of holiday traditions that date back to childhood. And when some of those traditions fall away they remain reminders of happier times.

If you’re not anticipating a joyful holiday in 2025, wrap these old shows around you like a cozy blanket and comfort yourself in the warmth of nostalgia.

Merry Christmas.

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Sunday Nights, 1977

We start a new year in our journey through the 1970s on a happy note for all three networks, all of whom placed at least one show among the season’s top 30. Once again I’ve seen all the shows listed so no additions to the 'missing' file. You probably have too – except perhaps for one short-lived newcomer in the middle of a powerful CBS lineup.

ABC
The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries
The Six Million Dollar Man
ABC Sunday Night Movie


If you assumed it was The Six Million Dollar Man that finished high in the ratings, think again. It was #7 the previous year but dropped precipitously in its final season. At least that weak lead-in did not stop the Sunday Night Movie from ranking at #20.

Hollywood rediscovers the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew about every 20 years. For my generation, the characters were personified by Shaun Cassidy, Parker Stevenson and Pamela Sue Martin on The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries (1977-1979). Theoretically this likable series should have found an audience among teens who thought they were too old for The Wonderful World of Disney on NBC, and too young to watch the grumpy old men on CBS’s 60 Minutes.

That didn’t happen, and even now it’s hard to figure out why. Cassidy and Stevenson could not have been more poster-ready, with Cassidy’s teen idol status amplified by a string of hit singles that not surprisingly found their way into the show.

And while Martin seemed to always get the weaker stories, she tried to capture some of the intelligence, resourcefulness and New England pluck that made Nancy so appealing in the books.

No, it wasn’t a great show, but quality has never been a pre-requisite for TV success. I’m happy to have the DVDs on my shelf, and look forward to watching the Christmas-themed Nancy Drew episode sometime this month.


NBC
The Wonderful World of Disney
The Big Event

In its second season The Big Event was still big enough to finish at #30 in the Nielsen ratings. As previously mentioned here, this wasn’t so much a show as a title, under which the network could present popular theatrical films like Gone With the Wind and 2001: A Space Odyssey, as well as original fare like Sybil with Sally Field and Jesus of Nazareth.


CBS
60 Minutes
Rhoda
On Our Own
All In the Family
Alice
Kojak

CBS may have been losing its grip on Saturday nights, but the network still owned prime time on Sundays. 60 Minutes and All in the Family tied at #4 for the 1977 seasons, with Alice also in the top ten at #8 and Rhoda at #25.

Hoping to make a similar splash was On Our Own, a sitcom about two young career gals seeking a way up the corporate ladder at a New York advertising agency. The show was like a female version of Bosom Buddies, without the cross-dressing. 

It only lasted one full season, but stars Bess Armstrong, Lynnie Greene and Dixie Carter all went on to better projects.

Shows Missed:
The Don Knotts Show (1970)
San Francisco International Airport (1970)
Nancy (1970)
The Headmaster (1970)
The Man and the City (1971)
Search (1972)
Assignment: Vienna (1972)
The Delphi Bureau (1972)
Jigsaw (1972)
The Little People (1972)
The Sixth Sense (1972)
Tenafly (1973)
Faraday & Company (1973)
Kodiak (1974)
The New Land (1974)
McCoy (1975)
Joe and Sons (1975)
Beacon Hill (1975)
Mobile One (1975)
Big Eddie (1975)
Executive Suite (1976)
Ball Four (1976)

Five Classic TV Shows Overdue for a Remake

As with any fan of classic television, I am wary of any attempt to reboot a classic series, and I am always disappointed by the results when it happens.

Do I need to provide examples? The Bionic Woman in 2007, The Twilight Zone in 2019, Lost in Space in 2018, Charlie’s Angels in 2011, Kojak, Magnum P.I., The Odd Couple…the list is long and undistinguished. I know many people preferred the newer version of Battlestar: Galactica over the original, but I couldn’t get into either one.

Despite this pitiful track record, there are five Comfort TV shows that I believe could be successfully revived, if done right.

Just to be clear – what I want is an actual remake, not a series like Velma that tries to exploit a familiar concept and characters, while “reimagining” the material for a different era and ignoring the qualities that made the original a success. I know it can be done – I’m just not sure if there’s anyone left with the courage to try it.

Honey West

The premise of Honey West should work in any era – a smart, sassy, sexy female private eye taking on cases with a burly partner who she may or may not also be seeing after business hours.

The series was certainly ahead of its time in 1965, as a forerunner to shows featuring an independent female protagonist who can handle herself in a fight. That genre would reach its zenith 30 years later with Xena, La Femme Nikita and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

But Honey, the stylish private investigator played by Anne Francis, got there first. At least in America. The Brits had already introduced Cathy Gale on The Avengers, who would be replaced by Diana Rigg as Emma Peel in 1965, the same year Honey West debuted on ABC.

Casting will be key here – I wish I could offer some suggestions about who would be a worthy successor to Francis, but I’m too out of touch with current pop culture.

One of the original show’s strengths was atmosphere, established through a jazzy music score and film noir vistas of Los Angeles in stark black and white. Going black and white with a new series would be a daring option but maybe Generation Alpha or whatever under 30s are called these days might find the novelty appealing.

I’d also keep it as a half-hour detective series – we’re all busier these days so establish a case, add a couple of twists and wrap it up.


Jonny Quest

The big question with Jonny Quest is whether to keep it as an animated series or try a live action version. I think animated would be the more viable option, as action scenes with an 11-year-old boy firing a machine gun at bad guys might hit differently with a real kid behind the gun.

But I want traditional hand-drawn animation, as richly detailed as what Doug Wildey brought to the original – not the computer-generated junk that was interesting when Pixar was launched but now seems cold and tired. Adding Hoyt Curtin’s jazzy theme is another must, and let’s bring back the whole gang – Hadji, Jade and Dr. Zin. We can keep Jonny’s loyal bulldog Bandit as well, only please cut back on his constant yapping.

And please also resist the temptation to make Dr. Quest and Race Bannon a couple. Leave that stuff to the fanfic crowd.


Ellery Queen

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

Ellery Queen stories have been published since the 1920s, so a new show would not be locked into any time. I would be fine if they followed the lead of Sherlock and set the stories in present day. Just don’t change the essentials – Queen is a mystery writer based in New York who assists his father on difficult cases.

I’d want the same qualities that Jim Hutton brought to the lead role: Ellery was brilliantly perceptive, without the arrogance of Holmes or the wiliness of Columbo. Could such a genial, laid-back character carry a series in 2025?


Playhouse 90

The anthology series was a staple of an earlier television era, featuring a new original movie-length drama every week. Playhouse 90 was considered one of the best if not the best entry in this genre, so let’s shoot for that high standard with a remake.

There’s no difference between TV and movies anymore, when films that debut on Netflix earn Oscar nominations. A modern-day anthology could be mounted on the same scale. But I’d rather see how well our creative community could do with the same challenges of its 1950s forbears – studio-bound productions, presented live, that rely on intelligent scripts and powerful performances over scope and spectacle. Can they produce something as memorable as “Patterns” or “Charley’s Aunt?”


The Rat Patrol

This is the only series on this list where I believe a remake has the potential to improve upon the original. The Rat Patrol had a great premise: In World War II, a four-man commando unit carried out missions to thwart the German Afrika Corps, led by General Rommel. It was a (slightly) more realistic A-Team, based on the exploits of actual combat units.

One of the best aspects of the series is personified by Eric Braeden, now a soap opera icon but back then a journeyman actor still using the name Hans Gudegast. He had the Col. Klink misfortune of always being outsmarted by his adversaries, but he brought a quiet dignity to a thankless role.

Television hasn’t given us a good World War II series since Band of Brothers, or a good action series since MacGyver (the 1985 version, not the 2016 one). I never thought the original Rat Patrol fully lived up to its potential, but an action-packed remake with a charismatic cast could be a hit – while also serving as a needed reminder of the heroism of our military when the world was at a tipping point. A boost in patriotism would be most welcome as we approach America’s 250th anniversary, and I’ll take it anywhere I can find it.