Feeling Sad? Watch The Nelsons Host a Fraternity Party

 

Before we get started…

Last week’s piece on the censorship of classic television generated several hundred comments on social media, almost all of which expressed a strong preference for allowing these shows to play as originally intended. I was gratified both by the magnitude of the response and the consensus viewpoint.

 

I was also not surprised to find a couple of 1-star ratings for my book suddenly posted that same week on amazon, when all the previous ratings for the past three months had been 5 stars. There were no reviews attached to those low ratings, of course. This is the way cowards chose to anonymously express their disapproval on that blog, and this is the backlash anyone risks for taking a position that runs contrary to that which is, sadly, currently in vogue.

 

But now is the time to speak, more loudly than ever, lest that privilege be forbidden as well.

 

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

 

Whenever I feel depressed, I have a handful of Comfort TV episodes I know I can always re-watch to lift my spirits. One of them is “The Kappa Sigma Party,” a 1956 episode of The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet that was written, produced and directed by Ozzie Nelson, and was supposedly based on a true story that happened to his family. 

 

 

 Usually, on any show where the plot revolves around planning a party, viewers know they can count on some unexpected calamity to threaten the festivities. This series also gave us “Halloween,” in which Ozzie and Thorny forget the most basic essentials of party planning after taking charge of the annual Halloween get-together. And in “The Balloons,” Ozzie and some neighborhood kids spend an afternoon blowing up oversized balloons for a women’s club dance that night, and then realize they have no way to transport them from the house to the auditorium.

 

So when David, “the eldest of the Nelson boys,” as the credits remind us, meets two friends on campus worried about having to find a place to hold a fraternity party the next night, and David gets talked into hosting it at his house, we sit back and wait for what is bound to come next: the parental objections, the last-minute scrambling, the house getting torn apart, and whatever other mishaps that could result from 30 or so college kids overrunning your property. 

 

 

Except…none of that happens. Ozzie and Harriet are taken aback at first, but

Harriet quickly decides, “If we’re going to have a party here, let’s make it a good one.”

 

The whole family pitches in; Ricky wants to play his drums, Ozzie sets up games in the yard, Harriet stocks up on burgers and other provisions. That’s the first half of the show. In the second half the guests arrive, the Nelsons greet them, there’s music, food, dancing, conversation, everyone has a wonderful time and when they leave they say that’s the best party they’ve ever attended.

 

That’s it. That’s the show. And it’s wonderful. 

 

  

 

One of the appeals of classic TV to me is spending time in the worlds these shows inhabit. I don’t even need a storyline to enjoy the experience; it would be enough to just visit the home of a family like the Bradys or the Nelsons, or peer over Perry Mason’s shoulder as he meets with potential new clients, or watch the crew of the Enterprise go about their daily tasks.

 

“The Kappa Sigma Party” may be the closest any show gets to that type of exercise. It’s an almost completely conflict-free episode. I guess you could say it’s a show about nothing, or at least nothing remarkable – a quality hailed as revolutionary when Seinfeld did it 30 years later. It’s another reason I believe Ozzie Nelson should be remembered amongst the giants of 1950s television alongside Sid Caesar, Ernie Kovacs and Rod Serling. 

 

 

I do wonder how someone in their teens or 20s would react to this show. Would they find it corny, or wonder what the point is in spending 30 minutes watching a nice family plan a nice party, and everyone showing up and enjoying themselves?

 

Would they also find it unrealistic? That’s the charge most often leveled at these soothing vintage sitcoms. But we forget that there were also troubling events going on in the wider world when this episode aired in 1956 – the Cold War was escalating, Elvis Presley had some parents nervous about what their kids were idolizing – but even in tumultuous times it shows how it is possible to still celebrate the values of kindness and good manners and treating others with respect. There should never be anything unrealistic about that.

 

“The Kappa Sigma Party” can be viewed on YouTube.  

When Classic TV Meets Shakespeare

 

“We have seen better days,” is a quote from Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens that seems appropriate at the moment.

 

Comfort TV provides a welcome diversion from our everyday struggles, and sometimes delivers it’s own unique spin on the Shakespeare canon. Of course, there have been faithful adaptations of the actual plays that have appeared on television through the years, including a fine PBS series that covered just about all of them. But to include those here as well would make this a much longer blog, and brevity is the soul of wit (Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2).

 

So let’s focus instead on those moments when Shakespeare was incorporated into a classic TV show plot, and what interesting variations were sometimes explored. And let’s start with the one indisputable classic among the attempts.

 

Moonlighting (1986)

“Atomic Shakespeare”

I had not watched this episode in a long time, and wondered how well it would hold up. Verdict: It’s as brilliant now as it was the first time I watched it – which was also the first time it aired. 

 

 

 

The show’s take on The Taming of the Shrew floors the accelerator in the first scene and never lets up – the quips (“A major plot point cometh”), the sight gags (Wall of Throwing Vases), the pop culture references (everything from The Carpenters to The Honeymooners), the songs, and the inside jokes come as quickly as they do in Airplane! and the Naked Gun films. It helps that Shakespeare’s play was a broad comedy to begin with – but the added dialogue blends so seamlessly with passages from the original play that at times it’s difficult to know which one is being spoken.

 

Amazingly, this was the lowest-rated episode of the series that season. Go figure.

 

 

Eight is Enough (1977)

“The Bard and the Bod”

Joanie lands the part of Titania, Queen of the Fairies, in a local production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Halfway through rehearsals, the director decides there should be a scene where all the fairies appear on stage naked. Now Joanie has two choices – should she stay with the play, and if she does should she tell her father?

 

We only get a few scenes from Shakespeare (Dick Van Patten reads the “What fools these mortals be” passage), but as with the best Eight is Enough episodes this one mixes comedy and drama with an expertise that few other shows can match.

 

The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet (1954)

“An Evening With Hamlet”

David is studying Hamlet in school. Ricky doesn’t think much of the play, with all its talk about suicide and scenes of people roaming around graveyards: “It’s just not commercial.” When their TV conks out, Ozzie suggests they spend that evening reading the play as a family – and immediately regrets the decision when he’s later invited to a poker game. But the reading commences, and is joined by a stranger that knocks on the door looking for an address – turns out that stranger is an actor who has performed Shakespeare many times, and helps the Nelsons get into the spirit of the material. Like many of this show’s best episodes “An Evening With Hamlet,” is both slightly surreal and laugh-out-loud funny. John Carradine, who did play Hamlet on stage, is wonderful as the lost stranger. 

 

 

 

Fame (1982)

“The Strike”

The kids at the School for the Performing Arts are preparing to perform a musical version of Othello, but that production is threatened when the school’s teachers all go on strike.

 

So much to like in this typically strong first-season episode: Coco sulks because she loses the part of Desdemona to Julie, and wonders if she would have got it if she had been white – interesting to hear a colorblind casting debate before that became a hot button topic; Leroy, who has enough trouble with modern English, struggles with Shakespeare’s dialogue, to the point where he nearly quits the show. But Gene Anthony Ray nails the scene where Leroy finally gets it. And the performance of “Desdemona” is one of the most elaborate production numbers the show attempted to that date. 

 

 

 

Gilligan’s Island (1966)

“The Producer”

For me this is as good as Gilligan’s Island got, which is not exactly meant as a compliment. Phil Silvers guest starts as producer Harold Hecuba, just one of dozens of people who come and go from the island while the castaways can’t figure out how to leave. During his stay they stage a musical version of Hamlet.

 

If ever wanted to play’s famous soliloquy sung to the music of Bizet’s Carmen, here’s your chance. 

 

 

 

Happy Days (1974)

“A Star is Bored”

Richie convinces the Fonz to take on the lead role in Hamlet, in an episode that aired right around the time when Fonzie began his ascent to ‘70s icon. So while the formula that would carry the series for several more years begins to solidify, this second season show also offers some unexpectedly serious moments as well, as when Richie explains the meaning of “To be or not to be,” and Fonzie recalls moments after his father walked out when he pondered that same question. 

 

 

 

The Flintstones (1966)

“Curtain Call at Bedrock”

I could have included “Juliet is the Sun” from The Brady Bunch in this piece as well, but as that one was covered recently in another blog we’ll turn instead to Bedrock and a PTA production of “Romeorock and Julietstone.” Apparently Shakespeare has been around a lot longer than we all thought. Barney plays the lead but he’s no Harold Axelrod. Be warned that this is a Gazoo-era episode, so your interest may vary depending on which side you favor in that audience divide.

 

Star Trek (1966)

“The Conscience of the King”

Star Trek: The Next Generation incorporated several Shakespeare references and performances, no doubt to give Royal Shakespeare Company alumnus Patrick Stewart the chance to look even more awesome than he already did. But the original series offered the first glimpse of Shakespeare on a starship, when a traveling company of actors stages a performance on the Enterprise.

 

 

Scenes from both Macbeth and Hamlet are staged, while an investigation is launched into whether the company’s lead actor used to be a brutal dictator responsible for the execution of 8,000 people. As that unfolds, Kirk falls in love with the actor’s daughter (of course). The ending is a bit of a letdown, but this was an ambitious attempt to craft a tragedy in the style of Shakespeare against a backdrop of the Bard’s original plays.

Foreign Relations in 1950s Television

During this contentious election year there is much being said about how people who are different are getting along. The short answer, it appears, is not that well.

This isn’t the forum to talk about the ebb and flow of tolerance, and how some situations were clearly worse 50 years ago, while many others seemed so much better than they are now.

Instead, let’s see what happens when vintage TV shows approached this topic.

I always like these episodes. They reveal how much bigger the world seemed in the pre-Internet era. For the heartland residents of golden-age sitcoms, the chance to meet someone born outside the U.S. didn’t come along every day. That perspective influenced how outsiders were portrayed, as well as how they were received by the characters viewers watched every week.

Often these shows fell back on cultural stereotypes that could be viewed as naïve now, or offensive if you’re the sort that likes to be offended about everything.

But that was not how they were intended. If anything, writers viewed these scripts as opportunities to educate viewers about the ways different populaces lived and dressed and spoke, while also offering an outsider’s perspective on American life and culture. That required an emphasis on divergence, though inevitably an underlying message would emerge on how people are people, no matter where they are from.

Here are three intriguing examples.

“Fair Exchange” (1958)

Father Knows Best

The Andersons play host to Chanthini, an Indian exchange student played by Puerto Rico’s own Rita Moreno. 

“Will she have a shawl on her head and a water bucket on her shoulder?” Kathy wonders, while Bud hopes she knows the Indian rope trick. Chanthini is also not immune to jumping to conclusions: when she sees an apron-clad Jim helping with the dishes she assumes he’s a servant. In her country, she says, the men don’t do kitchen work. “You people have the right idea,” Jim responds.

“Fair Exchange” offers a textbook example of how this story trope often plays out. “Did you know?” lessons are frequently inserted (not always gently) into the script: “What’s that little red dot on your forehead?” Kathy asks Chanthini; “We get most of our tea from India,” Margaret informs her family.  And as we’re still in the 1950s, everyone admirably tries not to offend each other. The final scene, where Bud tries to teach Chanthini about football, is one of those utterly charming moments that TV has long since forgotten how to create.

“The Duenna” (1957)

The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet

David meets Lucita, an attractive girl who speaks only Spanish. Somehow they manage to make a date, but he is confused when she calls later and he can’t understand her. 

A half-hearted attempt to translate reveals one word familiar to Ozzie – “duenna,” meaning chaperone. Apparently it’s Spanish tradition for girls on dates to be accompanied by a grandmother or maiden aunt. Ozzie tags along to accompany the chaperone, but is taken aback when the duenna turns out to be an attractive senorita with amorous intentions. 

The episode plays without subtitles, except for one brief scene needed to clarify the plot. Thus, viewers are as challenged by the language barrier as David, which heightens our awareness of how difficult these situations can be. What is engaging is the good faith effort made on both sides, without any expressions of impatience or frustration.  

“The Geisha Girl” (1961)

The Donna Reed Show

The wife of the new doctor in town gains a reputation as a snob because she never attends social events. Donna believes such pre-judgments are unfair and drops by for a visit. She discovers that the woman in question is not only Japanese, but also someone who prefers the traditional garb and subservient role of a wife common to her homeland. 

Later, at a small dinner party, the other doctors’ wives stare in disbelief as she serves her husband dinner and lights his pipe. The doctors find her deference admirable. “Don’t let it give you any ideas,” Donna cautions her husband.

Here we do see a suggestion of prejudice, though it is quickly proven false. But there is a discomfort among the ladies of Hilldale with someone who acts so submissive, and that in itself is interesting given how many women today might view the traditional homemaker roles that are esteemed in TV shows of this era. 

The final scene shows what happens when Donna takes it upon herself to Americanize the woman. One shopping trip later our visitor from Japan has joined the ranks of Hilldale’s stylish Midwestern homemakers.

But how will her husband react to his new wife? As it turns out, he’s delighted to see her making friends and embracing her new life in a new country. Assimilation is portrayed as a triumph for the immigrant and the community. If only that were still the case. 

Here They Are, America’s Favorite Family: The Nelsons

You may have noticed I like to jump around in my topic choices. Comfort TV covers a wide range of television programming from the 1950s to the early 1980s, and it’s fun to have that big a sandbox to play in.

But if I was ever to devote an entire blog to one specific show, it would be The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet. 

As much as I may have more personal affection for the ‘70s sitcoms that were part of my childhood, or the superhero shows that fired a young comic book nerd’s imagination, only Ozzie & Harriet would provide enough material for dozens – even hundreds – of posts, because there is so many aspects of this endlessly fascinating series worthy of in-depth exploration.

Start with the most obvious ­– it’s the longest-running live action family situation comedy in U.S. history, and it features a real family – married couple Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and their two sons, David and Ricky.

At a time when millions of viewers (for reasons unfathomable to me) are fascinated by shows about the Kardashians and Duggars and others (and don’t kid yourself, reality TV is as scripted as anything on Ozzie & Harriet), here was a series that was 50 years ahead of its time.

Imagine – going to work with your whole family and acting out everyday situations like sitting around the dinner table or planning a weekend trip, all on a set built to resemble the house you just left. In fact, the exterior series shots of the Nelson residence showed their actual Los Angeles home (at 1822 Camino Palmero St. in case you're ever in the neighborhood and want to drop by).

And when the workday is done you return home and pick up where you left off as an actual family. What must it be like to participate in an idealized version of your life, while simultaneously coping with any less sitcom-friendly aspects of those relationships when the cameras stopped?

The results, to me, are as captivating as they are unique. And this wasn’t some short-lived sociological experiment in entertainment – The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet ran for 14 years, longer if you count the radio show that preceded the television series. The show aired long enough for David and Ricky to grow up and get married, and for their wives to join the show, also playing dramatized versions of their real selves. 

I still wonder who these people really were. On the show Ozzie was a genial, laid-back patriarch who avoided household chores or any kind of labor. But the real Ozzie served as the show’s producer, director and cowriter. Harriet appeared the quintessential 1950s housewife, with her woman’s club meetings and the stack of pancakes she served her family every morning for breakfast. But the real Harriet was a vaudeville performer and band singer who was smoking at age 13 and enjoyed hanging out at the Cotton Club. She had such a way with an acerbic punch line that you knew she was just as feisty when the cameras weren’t on. 

What was it about this one family that millions of Americans found so interesting for so long? Was that window into aspects of real people’s lives a factor? I’m not sure whether that even played into its longevity.

Instead, I think it was a familial affection that compounded in viewers over time, as well as audiences seeing aspects of themselves and their own families in the Nelsons – or at least what they aspired to be. 

This was a time in television when there was a lot more of that – shows about families and doctors and lawyers and police officers that depicted their subjects in a way that would engender affection, admiration and respect from the viewing public. It wasn’t done overtly to send that message; it was, rather, a natural consequence of the way a self-assured and principled nation would portray itself.

Another element that made the show special was its balance of traditional ‘50s and ‘60s stories with elements of surrealism and a style of plot-less meandering that was later hailed as groundbreaking on Seinfeld. From the most basic of incidents – Rick grows a beard; Ozzie decides to stay in bed all day; Harriet gets a new hairstyle – the show devised clever, labyrinthine scripts that are still laugh-out-loud funny.

You never know where the show is going to take you. An episode about Ozzie’s quest for tutti-frutti ice cream features a 1920's-themed musical dream sequence. In “The Manly Arts,” David and Ricky fight a gang of smugglers in a scene out right out of The Untouchables. And they did their own stunts, just as they did in a circus episode where they performed a trapeze act. In several episodes one of the Nelsons will break the fourth wall and comment directly to the viewers, sometimes in character, sometimes as themselves. 

And we’ve come all this way without mentioning Ricky Nelson’s remarkable music career, another trailblazing aspect to the series. He was one of the biggest teen idols of the 1950s, but also one with real talent, as evidenced by his 35 top-40 hits and his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His frequent performances boosted record sales, establishing a pattern of crossover success that would be emulated by everyone from Shelley Fabares to Miley Cyrus. 

But one of the things I love the most about The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet is that I still have so many episodes to look forward to watching. There were 435 shows, and I have seen only about 150 of them.

Despite its quality and historic significance, the series has not fared well on DVD, for reasons too complex to explore here. Ricky’s son Sam Nelson is currently working on an official DVD release, but he chose to go it alone rather than work with an established DVD distributor. That may not have been a wise choice at a time when the market is already in decline, particularly for television shows of this vintage. The project was announced in 2011, but nothing has yet been released.

Hurry up, Sam – the fans that still remember the Nelsons as America’s favorite family aren’t getting any younger.