The Top 20 TV Theme Songs of the 1960s

 

By the 1960s, producers and networks recognized the value of a memorable theme song, ushering in the golden age of this singular musical genre.

The resulting embarrassment of riches means that some truly wonderful themes, from Bobby Sherman’s “Seattle” (Here Come the Brides) to Dave Brubeck’s jazzy intro to Mr. Broadway will not make the cut. I also couldn’t find room for Man in a Suitcase, Lost in Space, The Ghost & Mrs. Muir, I Dream of Jeannie, T.H.E. Cat or many others that deserve recognition.

Some may argue that a few of my top 20 qualified not by musical merit, but on the enduring popularity of their respective series. I won’t completely dismiss the point. But consider that since these are also the shows rerun most frequently in the past 50 years, we should by all rights be weary of their songs by now. And still, before yet another encore presentation, I don’t hit the fast-forward button on the DVD player. That should count for something.

Mission: Impossible

Here’s the first of many inescapable selections. Lalo Schifrin’s propulsive theme provides the perfect introduction to the breakneck pace of this tension-filled espionage series. 

The Brady Bunch

Written by series creator Sherwood Schwartz, the song and its accompanying opening credits sequence has been embedded into the DNA of American baby boomers.

Bonanza

This is the one TV western theme that most closely captures the magic and majesty of a great western film score. Thankfully, the version with lyrics performed by the cast and shot for the series’ pilot was pulled before the episode aired. But it’s a fun curio now. 

The Munsters

Why would anyone think a surf rock theme would be appropriate for a sitcom about a family of horror movie monsters? Sometimes, genius ideas turn up in the strangest places. 

Route 66

The series shares its name with a 1940s song that was a hit for Nat King Cole and The Manhattan Transfer. But it didn’t have the right vibe for this portrayal of restless youth hitting the open road. Enter the famed composer and arranger Nelson Riddle, who delivered a smooth, jazzy instrumental that earned a Grammy nomination. 

Batman

How many generations of kids grew up running around a playground with Neal Hefti’s famous “na na na na na na na na” riff running through their heads? Another classic that is indivisible from the series it introduced.

The Beverly Hillbillies

Just once, try not to focus on the lyric with its famous “swimmin’ pools, movie stars” references, and instead savor the first class bluegrass picking of Country Music Hall of Fame inductees Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. 

Jonny Quest

There is not an abundance of melody in Hoyt Curtain’s percussion-driven theme, but it sets the perfect tone for this sophisticated action series. The heavy drums evoke the primitive settings of many Quest adventures. Curtin allegedly wrote the trombone parts in a way that were impossible to play correctly, to get back at musicians who chided him for the simplicity of his previous compositions.

The Monkees

Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, who wrote the first Monkees #1 hit (“Last Train to Clarksville”) also composed the show’s theme song that, nearly 50 years later, is still being played on tour by the band’s surviving members. Micky sings lead, but it’s just not the same without Davy Jones. 

The Wild Wild West

Hopefully I’m not the only one who hears shades of Aaron Copland in the heroic strains of the Wild Wild West theme, composed by Richard Markowitz. The less said about the rap version attached to the movie remake, the better. 

Room 222

In the 1960s, it will still acceptable for a television series to take a few moments to introduce itself, rather than plunging right into the first scene. The opening credits sequence to Room 222 runs 1:30, during which 4 cast members are credited, and we watch dozens of students walk to and from school to the gentle strains of a theme composed by the great Jerry Goldsmith. I always thought a flute carried the melody, but I’ve now read several opinions that it was a recorder. 

The Banana Splits

Saturday mornings in the late ‘60s and early 1970s were a time of cartoons and frenetic, psychedelic live-action shows created for kids already hyped up on sugarcoated cereals. The energetic “Tra la las” of the Banana Splits theme were the perfect fix for our habit. 

Hogan’s Heroes

Jerry Fielding wrote several exceptional TV themes, including those for McHale’s Navy and The Bionic Woman, but none more enduring that this rousing military march.

Star Trek

A heroic theme, written by a man appropriately named Alexander Courage, that gave the original adventures of the Starship Enterprise a grandeur that the show’s special effects could not match. Series creator Gene Roddenberry added a completely unnecessary lyric that even many hardcore Trekkers have never heard, in order to fleece Courage out of half his royalties.

Gilligan’s Island

Sherwood Schwartz’s other great theme for his other great (in popularity if not creativity) situation comedy was a whimsical sea shanty that introduced seven stranded castaways. Actually, just five in the first season – The Professor and Mary Ann were dismissed with “and the rest” until a season 2 addendum gave them equal credit. Bonus points for its underrated additional verse that plays over the closing credits.

The Courtship of Eddie’s Father

Harry Nilsson had 8 top 40 hits. “Best Friend,” his joyful theme to The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, was not one of them. It should have been. The song was never released as a single, perhaps because it was adapted from an earlier Nilsson composition called “Girlfriend.” 

The Addams Family

With respect to composer Vic Mizzy, this one probably works better as an instrumental. Surely people more fondly recall the harpsichord and the finger snaps than the “altogether ooky” words.

Hawaii Five-O

When networks remake TV shows, they always think they know better than the artists that created the original series. So it’s a testament to the quality of Morton Stevens' Hawaii Five-O theme that CBS found no way to improve upon it when McGarrett and Dan-O were rebooted in 2010. 

Bewitched

The arrangement behind those wonderful animated opening credits has an ethereal quality appropriate for a classy supernatural sitcom. But this is one case where the lyrics actually work even though they are never heard in the series. 

The Andy Griffith Show

A few whistled measures of Earle Hagen’s “The Fishin’ Hole” is all some of us need to be transported back to the idyllic town of Mayberry, where there’s always an apple pie cooling on a window sill, and chicken and dumplings for Sunday dinner.

Next: The Top 20 Themes of the 1970s

The Top 20 TV Theme Songs of the 1950s

 

I must still be in a musical mood after getting reacquainted with all those singing TV stars, so let’s spend the next few weeks on theme songs.

Last year I did a series of pieces on the essential shows of the 1950s, 60s, 70s and 80s. I’ll take the same approach with theme songs by decade. I think twenty is a good number, because it’s enough to cover the essentials but will still force some dreadful choices about which tunes to omit.

Of the four pieces, this first one on the 1950s was the most challenging; my knowledge of the TV of this decade is not as deep, and many of the themes from this era are obscured by voiceover narration and lengthy sponsor plugs. A lack of diversity resulted in countless shows featuring generic orchestral melodies and brass fanfares, so as a result I’ve been force to cheat with a couple of the choices (which will be acknowledged in those respective entries).

Ready? Here we go.

The Twilight Zone

It’s the most unique and progressive composition on this list, so even though the entries are not ranked in order The Twilight Zone still deserves the top spot. Composer Marius Constant’s dissonant, avant-garde mix of guitars, bongos, saxophone and French horn doesn’t sound like any other 1950s music on TV or anywhere else. 

The Lone Ranger

Yes, this is my first cheat. The theme is Rossini’s stirring William Tell Overture, but no other classical music piece is more closely associated with a TV show than this one.

Dragnet

As with The Twilight Zone, most TV fans can still name this tune in four notes. Composed by Walter Schumann, the somber theme was actually titled “Badge 714” and was first heard on the Dragnet radio series.

Rawhide

Western shows dominated television in the latter half of the 1950s. It’s debatable whether  Rawhide was the best of them, but it certainly had the best theme, especially with those memorable whip-crack punctuations. It was recorded by Frankie Laine, and revived for a new generation by the Blues Brothers in 1980.

American Bandstand

TV’s most prominent early rock-n-roll showcase had a boogie theme that was not as rebellious as the new music genre it helped to popularize. But it endured for more than 30 years, and enjoyed a 1970s revival after Barry Manilow added a lyric.

The Jackie Gleason Show

“Melancholy Serenade” was not created for the comedian’s classic variety show, but it was composed by Jackie Gleason himself and performed by his orchestra, which recorded several best-selling instrumental albums in the 1950s and ‘60s. 

Peter Gunn

Henry Mancini’s jazzy theme, played by guitarist Duane Eddy, is another of the most instantly recognizable ‘50s themes, and set the perfect tone for this hard-boiled crime series. It’s been covered dozens of times by jazz and blues musicians and, like the theme from Rawhide, was also featured in the Blues Brothers movie.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

It would be hard to imagine a more appropriate introduction to this macabre anthology series than “Funeral March for a Marionette,” by the French composer Charles Gounod. 

The Mickey Mouse Club

“The Mickey Mouse Club March,” composed by genial head Mouseketeer Jimmie Dodd, is one of the great singalong tunes of TV’s golden age. If you were a kid at the time you probably still remember all the words.

Johnny Staccato

Here’s a case where both the series, a Greenwich Village crime drama starring John Cassavettes, and the jazzy music (by Oscar-winning composer Elmer Bernstein) should be much better known and celebrated than they are. The show lasted only one season but is available on DVD. 

The Donna Reed Show

Multiple versions of the same theme were heard throughout the series’ eight seasons, but the best one was the first, with its slower tempo and refined, string quartet arrangement, which builds to a lovely harp glissando as Donna Stone cheerfully sends her family out into the world.

The Rifleman

You don’t get to hear as much as you might like of Herschel Gilbert’s theme at the start of each episode, best remembered by Chuck Connor’s rapid rifle fire. But the longer version played over the closing credits and was better than anything in series costar Johnny Crawford’s discography.

M Squad

The brassy swing of Ernie Wilkins’ theme was popular enough to be covered by both Harry James and Count Basie. It was also the inspiration for the music heard in the Naked Gun movies and Police Squad! TV series, which I guess was meant as a compliment. 

The Lawrence Welk Show

Your grandmother’s favorite appointment TV was all about the bright, shining sounds of champagne music, exemplified in its opening theme, “Bubbles in the Wine.” What once seemed corny now sounds sweetly nostalgic and reassuring.

Bronco

A lot of 1950s themes tried to tell the entire story of the show in a few measures of music. Bronco offered one of the better examples of this. In just 90 seconds you’ll hear three verses and a chorus that provide a thorough introduction to Ty Hardin’s cowboy hero, Bronco Layne. 

Mama

Here’s another cheat – the theme to this TV adaptation of the movie I Remember Mama was adapted from the Holberg Suite by Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg.

Leave it To Beaver

While I confess it’s not one of my personal favorites, the Leave it to Beaver theme is certainly one of the quintessential TV tunes of its era, and instantly conjures images of the family sitcom at its most wholesome.

Zorro

The other heroic masked rider of 1950s TV didn’t have Rossini in his corner like the Lone Ranger, but he did have the expert tunesmiths at Disney, who created a stirring theme that became a top 20 hit for The Chordettes. 

I Love Lucy

For more than 60 years the I Love Lucy theme has been one of the medium’s most familiar melodies. The composer is Eliot Daniel, who wrote it as a favor for his friend, series producer Joss Oppenheimer – as long as Oppenheimer agreed to keep his name off the show. At the time Daniel didn’t think much of television and figured I Love Lucy would never last. He changed his mind by the second season (and happily collected royalties for the next 40 years). Lyrics (by Harold Adamson) were added for a memorable third season episode. 

The Deputy

Who would have guessed that an uncommon theme would be the most interesting part of a TV western starring Henry Fonda? The show was fairly typical of its time and genre despite Fonda’s gravitas, but the sound of that electric guitar was something no one would associate with westerns until Ennio Morricone began scoring the Sergio Leone films.

Next: The Top 20 Themes of the 1960s

Peace, Love, and Laughter: The Jimmy Stewart Show

 

You never know what you’re going to get with a blind buy, but The Jimmy Stewart Show seemed like a safe investment. 

It is difficult to imagine any TV series starring Jimmy Stewart failing to validate one’s attention. This is The Philadelphia Story and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It’s a Wonderful Life. Also Winchester ’73 and Rear Window and Vertigo. Maybe his situation comedy would never approach such lofty heights, but when an actor from the highest echelon of cinema royalty headlines a television show, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

The Jimmy Stewart Show debuted in the fall of 1971 on NBC, flanked by two established top 20 hits, The Wonderful World of Disney and Bonanza. Even now that seems like odd scheduling, to drop a 30-minute sitcom into an 8:30 time slot between Tinkerbell and Hoss Cartwright. Perhaps that contributed to its early demise, or perhaps viewers simply preferred Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. in The F.B.I. on ABC, or the CBS Sunday Night Movie.

Set in the small and bucolic northern California town of Easy Valley, the series introduced viewers to James K. Howard (Stewart), anthropology professor at Josiah Kessel College. Kessel was Howard’s grandfather, occasionally seen in flashbacks and also played by Jimmy Stewart. 

The family consists of James, his wife Martha (Julie Adams), their grown son P.J. (Jonathan Daly), their 8 year-old son, Jake (Kirby Furlong), P.J.’s wife Wendy (Ellen Geer), and their 8 year-old son Theodore (Dennis Larson). The two families live together in Howard’s Victorian-style residence, after Peter’s house is destroyed in a fire.

Stewart was 63 at the time, and he looked it. Julie Adams was a youthful 45. So while the actor’s innate dignity and decency defused any cradle-robbing overtones, it still made for a perplexing family unit, particularly with the couple having a son and grandson of the same age. Series creator Hal Kanter may have been over-reaching here, trying to fashion a quirky and unique blended family when something more traditional would have sufficed.  

It’s hardly surprising that Jimmy Stewart is the most agreeable aspect of The Jimmy Stewart Show. James K. Howard, humble, laid-back, gracious, was everything audiences thought Stewart was really like, and I’ve never read anything to contradict that assessment.

One of Kanter’s best ideas (besides the absence of a laugh track) was to take advantage of that audience affection by having the actor start and finish each episode speaking directly to the viewers. 

“I’m just on my way to begin an episode we call ‘Jim’s Decision,’ Stewart says in a typical intro, as he walks past the dressing rooms on the set. “I’m Jim…Stewart, that is, and I hope it’s your decision to stay with us and enjoy the next half hour.” And in the closing moments, he again steps out of character to tell the viewers, “My family and I wish you peace, and love, and laughter.”

It’s hard not to appreciate a show like that, despite its shortcomings.

Alas, even Jimmy Stewart needs a little help to make a show click, and here not much help was forthcoming. The family roles were poorly cast around its venerable patriarch; in a part that would benefit from the feistiness of a Suzanne Pleshette, Julie Adams comes off as merely pleasant. Reedy-voiced Jonathan Daly always seems bothered about something, and rarely registers any genuine warmth as Howard’s oldest son. Ellen Geer, daughter of Will Geer (who appears in one episode) is blandness personified. 

Even the Howard home is not especially welcoming, a reminder of the role set design can play in the success of a family sitcom. Audiences prefer a familiar, comfortable place to visit, but the floor plan here is all sharp corners and odd angles. Even after half a dozen episodes I had no idea how the different rooms connected.

Thankfully, The Jimmy Stewart Show had one other saving grace besides its top-billed star. John McGiver, who I’ve previously praised on this blog, livens things up whenever he appears as Howard’s professorial colleague, Dr. Luther Quince. It’s a stretch to imagine the two characters as friends outside a scripted world – Quince drives a Rolls Royce and fancies himself a connoisseur of life’s more sophisticated pleasures, while Howard plays the accordion and rides a bicycle to his classes. But McGiver is the only actor in the show playing at Stewart’s level, and several episodes are saved by their scenes together.

Looking at the final balance sheet, I wish this family sitcom had a more interesting family, and I wish a show about a college professor would have spent more time in the classroom, as I’ve always liked shows about teachers. But I very much enjoyed Stewart and McGiver, the guest appearances from such reliable character actors as Mary Wickes and Jack Soo, and the bit parts in two episodes played by an impossibly young Kate Jackson.

If you’re inspired to follow me in this blind buy, you’ll get 24 episodes of which many are good but none are great, plus a few that probably made Stewart grumble the way he surely did when he got roped into a turkey like Airport ’77, though he would be too much of a gentleman to do so outside the privacy of his dressing room. I’m happy to have The Jimmy Stewart Show in my DVD collection, even if I don’t revisit it as often as I once anticipated.