Friday, June 29, 2012

The Pride of Ownership – and The Brady Bunch

 I will never enjoy watching a TV show in a streaming video format as much as watching that same show on a DVD I purchased.

Oh, I know that’s where we’re headed, and eventually our televisions will be linked with our computers and mobile devices, and every TV show ever made will be uploaded into a big Apple-owned cloud, and we’ll push a button and it will begin playing in a few seconds.

But I’ll always prefer DVDs. For me, there’s a satisfaction in the ownership of a television series in a physical format, which cannot be replicated by having an episode of that series materialize for a few moments, and then disappear back into a distant, ephemeral mass of coded data.

To appreciate the difference, I think you have to be old enough to remember when all of television programming existed outside the viewer’s control. Back in the day, if you wanted to watch The Bob Newhart Show, you had to be home on Saturday night at 9:30, with the TV tuned to CBS. There was no setting of DVRs or recording on videocassette. There was no CBS app on an iPad. You watched the show when it aired, or you missed it.

And that is why, when the TV-on-DVD market was inaugurated with shows like The X-Files, I began counting the days until the release of The Brady Bunch.

I have only very distant memories of first-run Brady viewing. But following its five- year run the show went into syndication in practically every US market, and Chicago was no exception. So I really first came to know and love the series when it aired weekday afternoons on WFLD, channel 32.



As with many fans, one of my favorite episodes was “Amateur Night,” in which the Brady kids appear on a TV talent contest, performing “Sunshine Day” and “Keep On.”

It was always a show I looked forward to watching. But since there were no episode guides back then, most viewers never knew exactly when it might turn up. Eventually we figured out it was later in the series’ run, after Tiger disappeared. After Mike’s hair went curly. After Marcia got, um, you know.





Even with the series airing five days a week, it still took several months to cycle through all 115 shows (there were 116 episodes, but the Christmas show rarely aired in syndication).

So I had one chance about every six months to catch "Amateur Night." And contrary to what some readers of this blog may believe, I did occasionally have something else to do besides watch TV – then and now. But on those lucky rare afternoons when I was in front of the Sony Trinitron and that first scene began, with Jan entering the department store to pick up a silver platter, it was an event.

And it was a fleeting one. You watched it, there was no way to save it, and it might be a year or more before you happened across it again.

Now, I can take Season 4 of The Brady Bunch off the shelf, insert disc 3 in the DVD player, and watch that show whenever the feeling strikes me. And it feels great.



I don’t think anyone who grows up with the Internet will look at television the same way. If you see a TV show you like, you can immediately watch it again on your computer or an iPad. It’s now possible to store all 116 Brady Bunch episodes on an iPhone and carry them in your pocket.

That certainly makes TV viewing more convenient, but it also makes it less significant. If you can do something any time you want, there’s nothing special about doing it. 

I still remember when catching a rerun of a favorite show was enough to make a whole day better.

And that’s why I will always prefer my DVDs.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Grading TV's Teachers

 Many of us are drawn to certain TV shows because of common ground we share with their settings or characters. I have no doubt that doctors have greater insight into the scenarios created in Dr. Kildare, House and Marcus Welby, M.D., and may enjoy them (or dissect them) differently than I would.

For three years, I taught English 101 at a community college. While I did not have the dedication to continue in that pursuit, and have the greatest admiration for those that do, the experience has inspired an affinity for shows about teachers. I don’t think there’s been a school-set series from Our Miss Brooks to Glee that I haven’t at least sampled.

These are my five favorite TV teachers. I hope to hear about yours.

1. Pete Dixon (Lloyd Haynes), Room 222
Some pointy-headed social commentators enjoy pontificating about how bland television was back in the 1950s and 1960s, because it was unwilling or (due to tighter content standards) unable to explore “the real world.” And that since the 1980s, TV shows have become more “realistic,” and thus automatically better. This is largely nonsense, but that’s another topic for another day. It is relevant here because Room 222 (1969-1974) debuted in the midst of that perceived paradigm shift – it tackled real-world issues, yet still introduced in Pete Dixon a teacher as indisputably admirable as those educators from a more innocent era. 



As an American history teacher, Dixon challenged his students to question conventional wisdom. He encouraged classroom discussion, controversy and creativity; he fought the school administration when it was warranted, and backed them up when it was appropriate. And overworked as he was he wouldn’t let a kid fall through the cracks, no matter how much of his after-school time was compromised.

Best of all, he guided his students through a chaotic time by leading from an example of compassionate common sense that, had it been shared by more folks in 1969, might have eased some of the tensions that nearly broke the country in two. “I better ask you straight out – do you prefer ‘colored,’ or ‘negro,’ or ‘black’?” inquires naïve young student-teacher Alice Johnson (Karen Valentine). Responds Dixon, “I always preferred ‘Pete.’”

2. Elizabeth Sherwood (Carol Mayo Jenkins), Fame
Teaching has been called a thankless job, certainly when judged by its financial rewards. But what could be more thankless than teaching English in a school for the arts, where the students could care less about writing essays because they all expected to be in Hollywood or on Broadway in a few months? Such was the challenge met by Fame’s Elizabeth Sherwood. Sometimes she played their game, using Bob Dylan lyrics to teach a lesson in poetry; other times she force-fed them classic literature until they recognized its significance. And in one episode she performed a traditional African dance. Really, really badly.

3. Charlie Moore (Howard Hesseman), Head of the Class
The twist in this show was that the students on Head of the Class were the anti-Sweathogs, geniuses and super-achievers who were ostracized for their intelligence. Into this classroom of high-maintenance kids ambled Charlie Moore, the ultimate laid-back history professor who was not intimidated by the fact that his students were already smarter than he was. While this series doesn’t have A-list classic TV status, Howard Hesseman ranks on the short list of actors that played two noteworthy television characters. 



4. Professor Charles W. Kingsfield Jr. (John Houseman), The Paper Chase
Unlike the other teachers on this list, Professor Kingfield is one you’d love to watch on TV, but may hate to have standing at the business end of the classroom. Sure, years later you might look back with appreciation at how he turned your skull full of mush into the thoughts of a lawyer, but it was going to be hell getting there. The imperious John Houseman found a career-defining role after decades of prestigious work. And then he made Smith Barney the most respected investment firm on Wall Street. 



5. Miss McGinnis (Marion Ross), The Donna Reed Show
This is a one episode appearance (“Flowers for the Teacher,” season two), but it stuck with me because of how vividly it illustrates how terrified new teachers are when they stand in front of a classroom for the first time. Sure, you’ve got the bigger desk, but the power that comes with it is only an illusion. You’re outnumbered up there, and strong-arm tactics alone aren’t going to win the day. Fifteen years before Happy Days, Marion Ross is wonderful as a teacher fresh out of training school and still trying to figure out the job.

Honorable Mentions:
Jenny Calendar (Robia LaMorte), Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Russell Lawrence (Don Porter), Gidget
Albert Hague (Benjamin Shorofsky), Fame
Carrie Bliss (Hayley Mills), Good Morning Miss Bliss
Laura Jenkins (Peggy Lipton), Wings

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Next Time You Watch Jeannie, Watch Tony

 I don’t collect a lot of television memorabilia, but I do have an I Dream of Jeannie bottle. They’re usually available on eBay from very talented artists who hand-paint each one. The guy who did mine seems to have gotten out of the business, or I’d have been pleased to recommend his services.

While it wasn’t planned, the bottle became the first piece in a small collection of Jeannie memorabilia on display in my office.



And what’s odd is that, while I am very fond of the series, I don’t think it’s as polished or classy as Bewitched, its unofficial companion from the 1960s. The comedy was broader, the jokes more obvious, the stories less nuanced. But in Barbara Eden and her pink harem costume, I Dream of Jeannie introduced an iconic character that will forever be part of every classic TV retrospective.

But here’s a challenge, for the next time you happen by a Jeannie rerun or pop in an episode on DVD: avert your glance from Eden’s bare tummy and focus on Larry Hagman as her hapless master, Tony Nelson.

Why? As first pointed out to me by my Charlie’s Angels Casebook coauthor Jack Condon, Hagman is teaching a master class in physical comedy. On some level we see it, as the only genuine laughs in I Dream of Jeannie are the immediate after-effects of a disastrous Jeannie blink, as Tony contends with sudden costume changes, elephants in his living room, and disappearing furniture. But we may not appreciate the remarkable timing and commitment he brings to these moments, complicated by the additional challenges created by the show’s pre-CGI special effects.

Think about it – when Tony is sitting on a chair, and Jeannie makes that chair disappear, Hagman must first sit in the chair, then sit immobile as filming stops while the chair is removed, then squat in the same position until the cameras roll again, and only then react to what appears to be a split-second vanishing in the finished episode. That’s a lot more difficult than just falling down.

Major Nelson’s Air Force uniform also added to the impact of these moments. As the 3 Stooges taught us, it’s always funnier to watch a man of dignity take a pie in the face.

I was going to cite episodes to check out, but as this is I Dream of Jeannie it really isn’t necessary. The series repeatedly recycled about a half-dozen plots over the course of five seasons, all of which included one or two moments of slapstick. When they befall poor Tony, it’s the one time he deserves the accolade of Master.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Riding Shotgun With Tom Wopat


In 1997, I had the pleasure of researching and writing The Dukes of Hazzard: An Unofficial Companion for Renaissance Books. Of the dozen or so books on my resume`, this one was by far the most enjoyable and, surprisingly, the easiest. The project was completed in just four months, from the time I signed the contract with the publisher to the Federal Express delivery of a finished manuscript.

It’s very unusual for a book to come together so quickly, but the reasons have less to do with my ability as a writer than with the support and cooperation I received from the series’ cast, creative team, and fans. It seems that working on The Dukes of Hazzard was a positive, happy experience, and everyone (well, almost everyone) was eager to speak of his or her time with the show.

By the time I had a confirmed date to meet Tom Wopat, I had already talked to most of the stars, writers, and directors that had consented to be interviewed. Tom had proven difficult to pin down and a couple of previous appointments had been set and then canceled, but his manager assured me that this time it was going to happen.

On the appointed day I flew from Las Vegas to Burbank Airport. The plane arrived on time, and I knew the friend that was picking me up was always late, so I called my answering machine to check messages. There was a call from Skip Ward, a former Dukes associate producer who I had interviewed weeks earlier. I had stayed in touch with Skip, and he knew I was meeting Tom in L.A. that day. When I called him, he said, “I think you should talk to Denver Pyle.”


When I began this project, I hoped to meet with every surviving member of the cast. But Denver had been seriously ill for some time, so after my first attempt to reach him brought no response, I thought it would be better to not pursue the matter.

“I spoke to Tippie this morning, and she said he’s feeling pretty good today,” Skip continued.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah, call him. Here’s the number.”
           
I called and spoke first to Mrs. Pyle, and then to Uncle Jesse himself. I introduced myself, and told him I was meeting Tom Wopat in about an hour at a diner called Paty’s in Toluca Lake, but if he felt up to it, I’d love to interview him first. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” he replied.

By then my friend had arrived, and rather than kill the free time I expected to have before the Wopat interview, I had him drive me directly to Paty’s, while I hastily scribbled down questions for Denver en route. Fortunately the place was pretty close, and I arrived first.

A few minutes later, a vintage Mercedes pulled into the parking lot, and out stepped a white-haired gentleman, in a Western shirt, bolo tie, cowboy boots, and a familiar red cap. He was a little thinner than Uncle Jesse, moved a little slower, spoke more hesitantly, but he was in good spirits.

“So, you’re meeting Tom here?” he asked after ordering breakfast. I said yes, and he spoke about his fondness for the cast, and how the Dukes were as much a family off screen as they were when the cameras rolled. Those who have read my book have seen the results of that interview; Denver’s memory was fuzzy about specific incidents and favorite episodes, and he seemed incredulous about the whole idea of dissecting a television show and trying to explain its appeal. But he enjoyed talking about the letters he still received from fans, especially the young ones who wanted Jesse to be their uncle, too.
           
The interview ended before the meal did. Denver kept an eye on the window. Tom was late, but Denver stayed on, ten minutes, fifteen, until finally he rose, disappointed, and said he should be heading back. But at that moment in walked Tom Wopat, who had parked his white SUV on the side of the diner, where neither one of us would have noticed his arrival.

As I beckoned him to our table, I suddenly realized that Tom had no idea I would be with Denver Pyle.  His surprised expression gave way to a big smile. “Mr. Pyle,” he said as they embraced, “How are you?” They spoke for about fifteen minutes. I don’t remember many of the specifics, but I do recall Denver telling Tom how happy he was that his beard had grown back after taking chemotherapy.

They embraced again before Denver left, leaving Tom to slide into the booth opposite me. The waitress returned as our interview began, apparently wondering if I was going to eat lunch after I just finished breakfast. Tom immediately warmed to the subject of his Dukes of Hazzard days, and he spent almost two hours talking candidly on everything from his first meeting with John Schneider to his still-lingering disappointment over not accomplishing everything he wished with his direction of “The Haunting of J.D. Hogg”.

Denver Pyle passed away a few months later. I can’t say for certain that that day at Paty’s was the last time he and Tom spoke, but if that’s the case I am proud to have played a part in that reunion, and felt privileged to be there to see it.

After the interview, Tom offered to drive me back to the airport. Though I tried my best to remain a serious journalist, I could not help smiling about the chance to ride shotgun with one of the Duke boys. I wondered what the odds were of a bridge being out somewhere between Riverside Drive and the Burbank Airport. Probably not that great, but I fastened my seat belt just in case.