10 Reasons To Love “Bupkis”

When fans discuss classic episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show, you’re likely to hear titles like “The Curious Thing About Women,” “It May Look Like a Walnut” or “Coast to Coast Big Mouth.” A show called “Bupkis” probably won’t be mentioned, but it’s always been one of my favorites.

Written by Bill Persky and Sam Denoff, the duo behind many of the series’ best episodes, this fourth-season entry opens with Rob listening to the radio before going to work and hearing a song called “Bupkis,” a song he cowrote with Buzzy Potter during his army days. Weeks earlier he unwittingly gave up the rights to all those songs after getting a hard-luck story from his collaborator, and now he’s concerned he made a costly mistake.

It's a good story, but it’s the stuff that happens around the plot that, to me, makes this episode so memorable. Let me count the ways:

Waiting for the Weather
Early in the episode Rob waits to hear a weather forecast. A “Time for the Weather” jingle plays…and plays and plays. It’s an incidental moment but a very funny one, that will resonate with anyone trying to get a weather report or a baseball score from radio or TV before heading off to work.

WIFE
After the weather report, we hear Carl Reiner as the radio announcer for WIFE, “the station most people are married to.”

Blooper
It’s rare for a blooper to make the final cut in any series episode, but that was the case here. When Rob hears “Bupkis” on the radio, he picks up the phone and starts dialing the radio station – and then Dick Van Dyke remembers he was supposed to look up the number first in the phone book. He then makes a half-hearted effort to do so, pretends to find it and says “Right,” but is unable to hide a smile over knowing how he just screwed up.

“Yuk-a-Puk”
At the office Buddy and Sally arrive while Rob is looking at the music trade papers. Buddy says, “I haven’t looked at those since ‘Yuk-a-Puk’ slipped out of the top 50.” Sally responds, “’Yuk-a-Puk’ didn’t slip, it was pushed.” Hopefully viewers back then got the inside joke that Morey Amsterdam wrote “Yuk-a-Puk” and performed it on his 1963 album “The Next One Will Kill You.” It’s a reference that would almost certainly be lost on anyone now, but if you’re curious check out the song here

Middle America Gets a Yiddish Lesson
“I learned a lot of good words when I was in the army from Saul Pomerantz,” Rob tells Buddy, and if “Bupkis” wasn’t enough the episode now continues with more Yiddish vocabulary for America, sharing three more words in rapid succession. “Schlemiel,” “farblondjet,” and “tzimmes.”

References to Previous Episodes
Sitcoms in the 1960s weren’t big on continuity and this one was no exception. But as Rob explains how he might have done something stupid, Buddy and Sally remind him of all the other times that happened, referencing episodes in which he broke a tooth on a turkey sandwich, was hypnotized into acting drunk when he hears a bell ring, and when he left a script at Grand Central Station. It’s a nice trip down memory lane for long-time fans of the show.

The Stationary Box
Laura suggests that Rob write Buzzy a letter congratulating him on the success of “Bupkis,” figuring he'll respond if he has a conscience and offer to split the royalties. This is way before email, which is why Laura then produces a well-organized box of letter-writing stationary, complete with envelopes and a pen. Those scenes always stand out to me, showing how we used to live in a more genteel and less wired world. 

Attila the Hun
In the scene where Rob and Buzzy reminisce about the songs they wrote, they sing one called “Attila the Hun” (“Though he’ll pillage a village and kill everyone, I still love Attila the Hun.”) Like “Bupkis” it was also written by Persky and Denoff. The duo later created the series That Girl and had Ted Bessell sing “Attila the Hun” in the episode “Author, Author.”

Greg Morris
Greg Morris was something of a good luck charm for this series. Not only did he make a strong impression in this episode, but he was also center stage for what most sources identified as the longest studio audience laugh the show ever earned, in the episode “That’s My Boy?”

The Dum-Dums
“Bupkis” aired in March of 1965, a year when Beatlemania was in full swing, Motown was releasing classics from groups like The Supremes and The Temptations, and songs like “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” by the Righteous Brothers and The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” topped the charts. But to many in the older generation, rock music was still empty-headed junk, as evidenced from the snippets we hear of “Bupkis,” released by a band called The Dum-Dums.

Spoiler alert: Rob does get credit for his songwriting, and in the final scene proudly shows off a 45 rpm record with his name on the label, along with his first royalty check – for less than ten bucks. 

 

Then, as now, writers just don’t get paid like they should. Yes, I’m still bitter.

The Carefree Era of Commercials

As I've mentioned before, I spend an inordinate amount of time watching commercials from the past. I enjoy them in a way I never did when they were first broadcast and interrupting whatever show I was watching.

A new batch of early 1980s commercials was recently uploaded to YouTube, and of course I had to click on that link to see which ones would greet me like old friends. The video runs about 20 minutes, and the spots are not themed to any one occasion or type of product. Yet there was a common denominator that went through just about all of them – one that seems sadly lacking not only in contemporary commercials but in contemporary television as well – optimism.

If you don’t share my enthusiasm for old commercials at least watch the first one in the video, for Kellogg’s cereal. The ebullient music proclaims, “When that sun breaks out, lift up your head and shout, it’s going to be a great day!” over scenes of people smiling over breakfast and on their way to work, and smiling kids on their way to school.

When was the last time you saw anything on television brimming with that much unbridled optimism? Do we no longer feel the joy of greeting a new day? Are we embarrassed now to be gladdened by something so simple? Are we too cynical now to appreciate such an artless response?

Next up – a commercial for Coppertone, with people happily soaking up rays on a beach, not worried at all about sun exposure. I can’t remember the last time I even saw a commercial for suntan lotion, though you can still buy it everywhere. I wonder if they no longer advertise lest they be accused of encouraging a dangerous activity.

The video continues with many more spots featuring folks of all ages having good times with their family and friends while enjoying whatever product is being advertised – Tab, Juicy Fruit gum, Coors Light, 7-Up, Pop Tarts, Nestea.

Along the way there are also commercials for Sears, which always tug at my heart now that this once celebrated retailer no longer exists. 

Practical as always, these ads promised nice clothes at a fair price. And there’s Barbara Eden, extolling the virtues of control-top panty hose with the slogan “Nothing beats a great pair of L’eggs” – which is probably offensive now, but what isn’t?

And oh, the jingles. The Manhattan Transfer harmonizing for Diet Coke; KFC, back when they weren’t embarrassed to be known as Kentucky Fried Chicken: “It’s so nice, nice to feel, so good about a meal…”; Purina Cat Chow (“Chow chow chow!”), “Fall into the Gap,” and a young couple not afraid to “get a little closer, with the baby fresh scent of Arrid Extra Dry.”

What passes for music in commercials now? “I have Type 2 Diabetes, but I manage it well…” Time to hit that mute button.

Much as I can deceive myself into thinking times were always better during the Comfort TV era, I know that is not really the case. Every decade had its own anxieties. In the 1960s it was the Cold War – would the Soviet Union really fire the first shot? Why did they want to put those missiles in Cuba?

In the 1970s we had the first wave of environmental panic, and one dire prediction after another about the uncertain future of the planet. I’m not sure whether we were supposed to be roasting or freezing or underwater by now.

The thing about TV from the 1960s and ‘70s is that it largely separated itself from current events – which is why we can still watch so many shows from that time without their seeming dated. And the commercials? They were somehow more authentic and less annoying. They were unapologetic in what they promoted, and most of the time their message was simple: “You’ll be happier if you buy this.”

McDonald’s is one of the few brands that may be waking up to this. In 2025 they brought back McDonaldland in spots that are bright, colorful and musical. Now if only they’d do the same with their buildings. The McDonald’s commercial in the ‘80s video features a kid at the beach building a sandcastle modeled after what they looked like back then, with the red roof and big golden arches sign. All the locations now look like they’re trying to avoid attention, with their minimalist architecture and bland earth tone interiors that resemble a hipster coffee house that has seen better days.

Why can’t buildings be beautiful anymore? Or in the case of McDonald’s, distinctive? And why can’t commercials be fun instead of rattling off lists of possibly fatal side effects of prescription medication?

I guess that’s what keeps bringing me back to compilations like this. They remind me that there were nice things in the world, and nice people. I know that’s still the case – but for some reason television doesn’t have much interest in them.

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Wednesday Nights, 1976

How do you follow up a night when your network features the season’s two highest-rated shows? If you’re ABC, you do it with three more hits to dominate yet another evening. Give credit to CBS for at least hanging in there with a mostly successful mix of new shows and returning favorites. As for NBC…well, better luck on Thursday.

ABC
The Bionic Woman
Baretta
Charlie’s Angels

After being introduced on two popular episodes of The Six Million Dollar Man, Jaime Sommers was spun off into her own series and was an immediate hit, finishing the season at #14. 

If I’m in the mood for some bionic action these days I will almost always opt for this series over its predecessor, thanks to consistently better and more grounded stories (at least until season 3) and the captivating presence of Lindsay Wagner.

Baretta (#8) was still a top ten hit in its third season, but it was quickly surpassed in popularity by a new show featuring three little girls who went to the police academy. Charlie’s Angels (#5) was the breakout hit of the season, destroying its competition and landing its three stars on the cover of Time magazine. 

Sadly, its first season would be the only one with the original lineup of Kate Jackson, Farrah Fawcett and Jaclyn Smith. Farrah’s quick departure, largely engineered by husband Lee Majors, would put the series’ future in jeopardy, but the network need not have worried, as we’ll see when we get to 1977.

CBS
Good Times
Ball Four
All in the Family
Alice
The Blue Knight

In its fourth season Good Times finished at #26, as audiences (not to mention his fellow cast members) began to tire about every episode being about J.J. (Jimmie Walker). The season opened with a shocking two-part episode in which family patriarch James Evans is killed in a car accident.

Jim Bouton’s Ball Four is still considered one of the best books every written about life in the Major League. It figured to be a challenging book to adapt for television, with its frank depictions of what goes on in baseball locker rooms, but from what I’ve read about it they tried their best. I’ve never seen it (maybe because it disappeared after just five episodes) so on the list of “missed shows” it goes.

All In the Family was CBS’s highest-rated show of the night, finishing at #12 – not bad for a series in its seventh season. Next up, a new show based on the film Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. Alice (#30) became a popular long-running show, but it never did anything for me. My grits remain un-kissed.

In 1973 CBS aired The Blue Knight, based on a book by Joseph Wambaugh about a police officer nearing retirement. William Holden starred, but wasn’t interested in reprising the role in a series, so George Kennedy stepped in. 

It drew enough viewers in its first season to return in the fall of 1976 but was then canceled after ten episodes. George Kennedy was always cool, but he was no match for Farrah Fawcett.


NBC
The Practice
NBC Movie of the Week
The Quest

Pity the poor programming wizards at the Peacock network in 1976. If it weren’t for bad luck, they would have no luck at all.

The Practice (not the one with Willam Shatner as Denny Crane), was as close as they got to a show anyone cared about, coasting through two undistinguished seasons on viewer affection for stars Danny Thomas and Shelley Fabares. Thomas played a lovable but grumpy old doctor, Shelley played his daughter, and his nurse was played by Dena (“It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature") Dietrich.

The Quest tried unsuccessfully to bring westerns back to prime time. Kurt Russell and Tim Matheson played brothers who hit the trail searching for their sister Patricia, who like Russell’s character was abducted by Indians. Each week they’d ride into a new town, get involved in some local trouble and then be on their way. The show was canceled before they could find Patricia - hopefully she's adjusted to her new life by now.

None of this was working so the network took bold action in December; it canceled the Movie of the Week and introduced three new sitcoms: CPO Sharkey, The McLean Stevenson Show and Sirota's Court.

Sometimes you just can’t win.


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)

The Things We Can Learn from Classic TV

If anyone ever asked me what minerals can be found in granite, I could tell them the answer: quartz, mica, and feldspar. Sadly, however, no one has ever asked me that question. I’ve even tried to steer the occasional conversation around to the topic, hoping to show off my expertise – “Hey, does that look like granite to you?” Still, no luck.

The reason I know this is not because of a geology course I took in college, or because I have more interest in rocks than the average American. I know it because the minerals in granite were casually mentioned in an episode of The Secrets of Isis called “Rockhound’s Roost.”

This was also the series that taught me the Latin name for crow (Corvus), and how to distinguish a crow from a raven. 

These diverse (and arguably useless) nuggets of knowledge illustrate how watching even the most unsophisticated television shows can make us smarter, whether we realize it or not.

What I learned from Isis did not graft itself in my memory after my first viewing of the show in the 1970s. I’d guess for most people those types of dialogue exchanges just sail by as we focus on the story and characters. But after repeated exposure to these episodes, our wealth of knowledge on a variety of topics is almost certain to expand.

Repetition is the secret sauce that also made the Schoolhouse Rock shorts so effective. Clever concepts and catchy songs helped, but the generation that grew up with Saturday morning cartoons in the 1970s watched these segments dozens, maybe even hundreds of times over the years. And now, decades later, many of us can still recite the entire Preamble of the Constitution from memory.

Science was always my most challenging school subject, but here again help arrived from unlikely places. On The Brady Bunch when Peter was falling behind in his science class, Greg and Marcia gave him some rhymes to help with recall (“A vertebrate has a back that’s straight!”).

And how many kids learned more about the human cardiovascular system from Potsie, courtesy of “Pump Your Blood” on Happy Days?

My guess is that other classic TV fans are better at this than I am. Those with greater retention may be able to pick up on an informative line of dialogue after just one or two viewings. I need more than that. Everyone’s memory works differently, and mine sometimes doesn’t work at all.

But if you ever need to know more about granite, you know who to call.

Your turn – what has classic TV taught you?

The General Lee Flies Again

As a fan of the classic TV era, I’m always excited by those times when life imitates art.

One of them happened a few weeks ago in Somerset, Kentucky, population about 12,000, when 40,000 people showed up to watch the General Lee jump over a fountain in the town square.

The event was organized by a local car club and a stunt group called the Northeast Ohio Dukes of Hazzard County. The man behind the wheel was Raymond Kohn, who had performed similar jumps before. Each one requires months of preparation and planning.

“You get one shot at it. This is a very scary situation,” he said. “You’re putting yourself in a life-and-death situation on purpose.”

So why do it? Why drive a car at top speed up a ramp, soaring more than 150 feet in the air, before hitting the ground – hard – risking life and limb in the process? And Kohn wasn’t the only one in danger. When the General landed parts of the car were sprayed out along the road, and one cameraman barely got out of the way as the car skidded toward a row of barricades before stopping.

I think moments like this say something about the magic of television, of the relationships forged between characters and the viewers who idolized them. Over the course of seasons and years they became as familiar to us as our own families, and we wanted to visit them and share in their stories. Since that isn’t possible, we look for ways to bring some of their fictional world into ours.

That’s what happened when the General flew that day in Kentucky. It couldn’t hit the ground and keep moving the way it did when Bo Duke was driving, but that was the other magic of television. 

In reality every car jumped on The Dukes of Hazzard was immediately totaled. Over the course of the series more than 300 Dodge Chargers flew over rivers and barns and trains and then were ignominiously towed to their final resting places.

But that was okay. In the moment, as fans, we believed. And in that moment in Somerset, thousands saw something they only ever thought they could see on TV.

There have been other such crossovers – the Brady Bunch house, for instance. HGTV bought the home shown on every episode of the series and completely transformed the interior, so it now matches the layout and frozen-in-time décor of the rooms that once existed only on Paramount soundstages. I’m planning my visit later this year.

Southfork Ranch, as seen in Dallas for 13 years and more than 350 episodes, is also open for tours. According to the website, you can see Lucy’s wedding dress, the Dallas Family Tree and Jock’s Lincoln Continental.

Here in Las Vegas, the Las Vegas Hilton was once home to Star Trek – The Experience, a combination dining/shopping/museum/attraction which might have been the only place on earth where one could purchase a six-pack of Romulan Ale.

The first time you enter what you think is going to be a motion simulator attraction, the lights suddenly go out, and when they come back on you find yourself standing on the transporter pad of the USS Enterprise. It was a remarkably believable effect, and while you were still getting your bearings after the swerve you are escorted by uniformed crewmembers through the ship’s corridors and into a perfect recreation of the bridge.

Sadly, the attraction closed in 2008 – but there’s a recreation of the original series’ Enterprise in Ticonderoga, New York.

With the cultural impact of television having declined significantly since the year 2000 or so, I think it’s unlikely that any series will ever achieve a level of popularity that would manifest itself in a similar way. Just look at the recently announced Emmy nominations and consider whether a series with eight episodes on Apple TV+ could ever penetrate the public consciousness the way network shows once did. People don’t seem to take their favorite shows to heart the way they used to – you’ll get a phenomenon every so often like Yellowstone or Stranger Things, but will they still be on people’s minds 30, 40, 50 years from now? I wouldn’t bet on it.

Footage of the General Lee’s jump is up on YouTube, and one of the comments was “This is the America I want to live in.” Me, too – even if it’s the America that so many detest now, that would celebrate a car named after a Confederate general with a Rebel flag on the roof. We knew the difference between legacy and hate, and between fantasy and reality. And when a slice of the classic TV fantasy enters into reality, it’s always something to remember.

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Tuesday Nights, 1976

Nights like this were the reason videocassette recorders were invented. Those magnificent machines were still $1,000 or more back then but were worth the investment for families torn between the top-rated series airing on ABC and CBS, and some pretty good shows on NBC as well.

We take for granted now the ability to watch TV on our schedule, but 50 years ago every program decision came with the knowledge that there might be something good on another network that we’d have to wait until summer reruns to catch. Which of these series got your vote in 1976?

ABC
Happy Days
Laverne & Shirley
Rich Man, Poor Man Book II
Family

With Happy Days ranked #1 for the season, followed by Laverne & Shirley at #2, ABC stakes its claim as the most popular network of the second half of the decade.

Season four of Happy Days opened with the fondly-remember three-parter “Fonzie Loves Pinky,” featuring those dreaded demolition derby villains the Malachi brothers, and Roz Kelly as the Fonz’s one true love, Pinky Tuscadero. If you were the right age, it probably ranked as one of the most awesome things you’ve ever seen on television.

By now the family-oriented stories and subtler humor were supplanted by stories that kept television’s most popular character in the spotlight in nearly every episode. A poster of Henry Winkler as the Fonz became the best-selling poster of all time – though that would not last for much longer.

Rich Man, Poor Man Book II continued the saga of the Jordache family. It’s classified as a miniseries but with 21 episodes it held its timeslot from September to March and ranked as the 21st most popular show of the season.

Family was ABC’s only Tuesday series to finish outside the top 25, which is ironic because it’s also the best series of the night on any network. I wrote this about it a few years ago: After 20 years of sensationalized reality TV, the idea of dramatizing the normal low-key reality of life with one Pasadena family now seems like an incomplete pitch; what’s the hook? Is the father psychic or is the mother leading a double life? Does the son have superpowers? Is the daughter trans or a pop singer or something else that will bring in a broader demographic?

When the writing and the acting are as perfect as they are here, no other incentive should be necessary. To watch Family is to be wholly drawn into the joys and sorrows and relationships of fictional characters, and to believe that every word they say is extemporaneous and could not possibly have been typed by someone else months earlier.



CBS
Tony Orlando & Dawn Rainbow Hour
M*A*S*H
One Day at a Time
Switch

M*A*S*H ranked at #4 in the Nielsens and One Day at a Time, in its first full season, finished at #8. Those without VCRs, you had decisions to make.

Adding “Rainbow Hour” to the title and a weekly monologue from George Carlin was not enough to save Tony Orlando & Dawn’s variety series – just as well given the poor decision to focus more on comedy than music in this, its second and final year. Thankfully Switch still had a couple more seasons of shows built around clever con games. For me this was as good a series as The Rockford Files – I just wish it would have stuck around as long.

NBC
Baa Baa Black Sheep
Police Woman
Police Story

The unfortunately named Baa Baa Black Sheep (which became Black Sheep Squadron in its second season) starred Robert Conrad as Marine Corps aviator Greg “Pappy” Boyington, who commanded a squadron in World War II known as the Black Sheep. The stories were loosely based on the real exploits of the group. Conrad always excelled at these heroic types, and kept busy in the 1970s in shows like The Duke and A Man Called Sloane. Sometimes I think he took those parts just to keep getting invited back to the Battle of the Network Stars.

Police Woman and Police Story were in the middle of their successful runs, the latter series in particular maintaining a remarkably high level of quality for an anthology examining different aspects of police work.

While NBC failed to place any of these shows in the top 30, those who opted for this lineup were also in for a perfectly fine evening of television. Maybe viewers would need two VCRs.

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)

Remembrances and a Celebration

Occasionally the classic TV era generates multiple headlines decades after its departure. Usually that mean obituaries, and there were three of note this past week.

The one that hit closest to home with me was Rick Hurst, as I knew him. Not well, but when I wrote my Dukes of Hazzard book he was the first cast member I interviewed. “Starting at the bottom,” he said, smiling, as we took our seats at a café in Los Angeles coincidentally called Dukes.

When Sonny Shroyer temporarily left the series to star in the spinoff Enos, Hurst was brought in as the new deputy, Cletus Hogg. He would remain on the show after Shroyer returned, ultimately appearing in 55 episodes.

He played cops on other shows as well, including Sanford and Son, The Partridge Family, Love, American Style and Get Christie Love. And he was a regular on two short-lived series, On the Rocks and Amanda’s. His IMDB page lists more than 70 credits.

He was a busy character actor and a good one, and more importantly he was a kind and humble man. After my book came out I met up with him at a park in L.A. where he was watching his son play in Little League. He signed my book after several other cast members had done so, and once again joked about being at the bottom of the list.

“I don't know about y'all but I believe in an afterlife,” wrote Ben Jones (Cooter), “and I can see Rick up there in Heaven with Jimmy Best and Sorrell Booke and Denver Pyle, putting on the funniest show inside those Pearly Gates.”

Newspaper headlines identified Lalo Schifrin, who died at age 93, as “composer of the Mission: Impossible theme,” and if that were all he did it would still be an impressive legacy.

One of the series’ defining qualities was how quickly its stories moved - once that fuse was lit in the opening credits and the IM force got their marching orders from Mr. Phelps (or Mr. Briggs), the pace rarely slowed as elaborate plans were executed with expert precision. Schifrin’s propulsive theme managed to capture that same feeling of intensity, setting the perfect tone for the stories that followed.

He scored other TV shows – Mannix, Medical Center, T.H.E. Cat, and movies as well, but there’s a reason Mission: Impossible is always referenced first when his name is mentioned. Whatever you think of the M:I film series with Tom Cruise, give them credit for knowing they’d never come up with better music than what Schifrin already created.

Bobby Sherman was not eulogized as a TV star, but he first came to national attention in the series Here Come the Brides (1968-1970), for which he also performed the theme song, “Seattle.” He had seven top 40 hits, more than fellow Tiger Beat teen idol David Cassidy, but not as many as Donny Osmond. Then he left show business to become a paramedic, which is pretty awesome.

The passing of Bill Moyers comes at a time when debate rages in Washington over whether a government that is trillions in debt should continue to fund PBS. Moyers was one of public television’s most respected journalists, perhaps best-remembered for his six-part interview series “Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth.”

He was a liberal but a principled one, who largely kept his personal politics out of his shows and specials – until he was driven over the edge by Donald Trump like so many on the left. He once said that Trump had “an open sore” instead of a soul.

On a happier note, June Lockhart turned 100 recently. She’s the second nicest celebrity I have ever interviewed, and I’ve had the pleasure to speak to her a few times over the years. The first time was for my book What Were They Thinking? The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History. Going into the project I wondered how many people would be willing to discuss their participation in such moments, but June was delighted to reflect on the infamous Lost in Space episode “The Great Vegetable Rebellion.” That was the one, you may recall, in which the Robinson family were menaced by a man in a carrot suit.

“The shooting of it was beyond anything you could imagine,” she told me. “We could not keep it together.” Her recollections were more entertaining than the show, and we also got to chat about her first classic TV series, Lassie, and her time on Petticoat Junction. As a General Hospital fan, I also remember her as Mariah Ramirez, Felicia’s mother.

We who celebrate the Comfort TV era do so because we think it’s worth celebrating, and find what it gave us to be preferable to what we’re being offered now. I know there will be more sad days like this as we say goodbye to those who entertained us, and occasionally a heartening milestone also worthy of observance. As Linda Ellerbee used to say, and so it goes.