Looking Around the Frame

In The Electronic Mirror, the fine book written by my fellow classic TV blogger Mitchell Hadley, there’s a section in which Mitchell discusses program clichés, and uses this TV Guide listing for an episode of Daniel Boone as an example:

“Daniel, the fort’s best runner, sprains an ankle, which spells bad news for the settlers who have bet on him to win the hotly contested annual foot race with the Indians.”

That is certainly a familiar trope – an unexpected calamity that precedes a big event.

Hadley continues: “Did you ever notice that you never see a listing like, ‘Daniel sprains an ankle, and is grateful he doesn’t have anything planned for the week’? No, of course not – that doesn’t make for very interesting television.”

But here’s the thing: I’d watch that episode too.

With my favorite Comfort TV shows, no plot would be no problem – I am content just to spend that time in their worlds.

No such shows exist of course, but I find that mindset comes in handy when I’m watching an episode of a series I’ve seen a zillion times, or when I’m watching one that’s not that compelling, I ignore the plot and spend my time looking around the frame. 

With some shows I remember having the same kind of furnishings in the homes where I grew up. I know when it's a '70s show I'll see more plants everywhere. I try to read the titles of the books on the shelves. I am amused by how shelf paper in kitchen cabinets was once a higher priority than it is now. 

For me no series lends itself better to this pastime than Star Trek: The Next Generation (as well as Voyager and Enterprise). While I’ve never considered myself a hardcore Trekker, I am endlessly fascinated by the ship’s multicolored display panels, the decorative touches in the various crew quarters, and the recessed lighting in the Ten Forward lounge.

It’s not surprising to me that the wealthiest and most ardent Trekkers have recreated the bridge and sickbay and other sets in their homes, just to feel like they can access that space. I would never do something like that, but I certainly understand the impulse. 

But even with shows set in their present day, in recognizable homes and offices, I wish we had at least one episode for each series when we could simply observe the characters going through the course of an uneventful day.

How does Mr. French organize his time as he deals with the responsibilities of shopping and cleaning and cooking and taking the twins to the park? Could I follow Rob Petrie as he drives to the train station to travel into Manhattan, and watch the writer’s room kick around ideas? And how does Ozzie Nelson wile away the hours between breakfast, lunch and dinner?  

I also wonder about the places we never get to see. What does that guest bedroom in Bob and Emily Hartley’s apartment look like? How long is the hallway that leads to the elevator outside the WJM-TV newsroom? 

Virtual reality technology may one day allow us to ‘enter’ these fictional realities. But they probably won’t have that perfected until a time when few people still care about these shows.

But perhaps part of one such world may be unveiled when the Brady Bunch home renovation, now being documented by HGTV, is complete. What will they do with the property when the show is over? Open it to the public as a retro bed & breakfast? The home is in a residential area so I doubt they can legally turn it into a business. But if they do, I’ll be the first in line. 

The (Real) Home of Comfort TV

 

There is a fantasy shared by many of us who love Comfort TV, and that is the prospect of visiting the fictional worlds created in classic shows. What would it be like to attend one of those martini-drenched cocktail parties hosted by Sam and Darren Stephens? Or listen to the Partridge Family rehearse in their garage? Or to see snow falling over Major Nelson’s house in July, and realize that Jeannie is at it again? 

Impossible, of course. But there is a place that would bring one closer to realizing this dream than any other in our mundane real world. It’s in Burbank, California, on a section of the Warner Bros. Ranch known as Blondie Street. If classic TV has a home, this is it.

At first glance it looks like any other gently-curving street you would find in suburban cities throughout the United States – single family homes with attached garages and neatly-manicured lawns out front, some with a white picket fence surrounding the property.

But if you know your classic TV shows, it won’t be long before every house on the block begins to look familiar. Start with the Blondie home, built for use in a series of 1940s films based on the long-running comic strip. For TV fans, however, it is famous as the home of the Andersons in Father Knows Best, as well as the home of Major Nelson on I Dream of Jeannie. 

This is also where you’ll find the homes used on Hazel and Gidget, and the Oliver house that was home to both the Stones on The Donna Reed Show and the Mitchells on Dennis the Menace. Next door to the Blondie home is the Partridge Family home  – note the driveway on the right where the iconic bus was often parked. 

At the end of the street is the Higgins house, most famously used as the Stephens residence on Bewitched. 

There is a park on the other side of the street, which has appeared in all of the above shows and hundreds more. Its most famous feature is a circular, white stone fountain that should also be familiar to every TV fan. It was prominently featured in the opening credits of Friends, but sharp-eyed viewers can spot it in dozens of other shows, from The Waltons to The Monkees.

If you want to know the full history of the Warner Bros. Ranch, there is an excellent website that details every aspect of the property, from its initial construction to the movies and television shows filmed there. Mischa Hof, with whom I’ve exchanged a number of emails over the past 10 years, created the site. It’s a labor of love for him, and I can’t imagine how much time and money he’s devoted to research and interviews that celebrate its pop culture heritage.

A few months ago I received an email from a woman named Janet who works on the Blondie Street part of the property. She asked if I would be willing to write a blog on the site and on Mischa’s work.

I immediately accepted, having wanted to visit the place for years. I’ve walked the perimeter of the property during more than one trip to Los Angeles (there’s a pretty good pizza place across the street), and peeked through the chain-link fence where you can glimpse some of the houses. 

Unfortunately, just two weeks after Janet extended the invitation, she was laid off after 10 years on the job.

I didn’t know much about Janet then –  I have since learned that she was much loved by her coworkers and those fortunate enough to tour the lot in her presence. 

It’s important that those who work in special places have an appreciation for their history, and for what they mean to people. This should be true whether it’s a metropolitan art museum, a Broadway theater, a venerable old sports arena, or Blondie Street. 

Janet got that. At the time of her dismissal she was working with Mischa on a “Friends of the Ranch” program that would have opened the street to visitors for the first time in its history. Now, that probably will not happen.

I’ll get there one day. I have a few somebodys who know somebodys who will be able to set something up. And as Blondie Street is still a valued part of the studio (you’ll also see it in more recent series like The Middle), I do not fear for its future. But it is without a caretaker now, and that concerns me.

There’s a reason we bestow landmark status on exceptional places. It elevates them above mere property controlled by a corporation, and protects them against the whims of the bureaucrat, the robber baron and the unenlightened. Blondie Street is a place to walk in the footsteps of television’s most beloved characters. It has the ability to reconnect adults with the blissful days of their childhoods.

Perhaps that’s not sufficient for the kind of safekeeping afforded to the Ryman Auditorium or the Old North Church. But if the home of Millard Fillmore can make the cut, so can the home of Samantha Stephens. 

From the Batcave to the Brady House: The California Comfort TV Tour

 

Most of the places you see on TV shows are located on studio lots. But there are many others scattered throughout southern California that you could see any time, though you might get in trouble knocking on the door. This has become a hobby of mine (visiting, not trespassing), and during my several yearly trips to Los Angeles I’ll usually schedule at least an hour for one drive-by of a landmark that is part of our television heritage.

Here are some of my favorites, as well as one that I finally plan to cross off my to-do list later this year.

The Brady Bunch House

This was the first classic TV site I tracked down. Though more than two decades have passed since my first visit, I can still recall what a strange sensation it was to actually stand before a home that I only knew as part of a fictional world. I’ve been back several times since, and every time, for the briefest of moments, it still feels like stepping into TV land. The house doesn’t look the same as it did on the series – there’s a wrought-iron fence surrounding the front to keep weirdos like me at a safe distance, and the upstairs window you see on the show was never actually there. But the shape of the Studio City dwelling, especially when framed by the mountains in the background as it often was on The Brady Bunch, remains unmistakable.

If you’d like to check it out, head west on Ventura Blvd. to Tujunga Ave., turn left and then make a right on Dilling St. You’ll know it when you see it. 

Townsend Investigations

I wonder how many people who drive by 189 N. Robertson in Beverly Hills even realize they’ve just passed the office where Charlie Townsend summoned his Angels. The two-story red brick edifice was shown in almost every episode of Charlie’s Angels, though you’ll never seen any of the Angels (or even Bosley) entering or exiting the building. Whenever I’m doing research at the nearby Margaret Herrick Library, I always take Robertson back to Wilshire, hoping to see Jill Munroe’s Cobra parked out front.  

Walton’s Mountain

Last year I was enjoying a deep-dish pizza at actor Joe Mantegna’s Taste of Chicago restaurant. I was seated at the window facing south, when my friend asked, “See anything interesting?” I took another look at the CVS across the street and told him I didn’t. Then he started whistling the Waltons theme, and suddenly it dawned on me – the mountain behind the condos and shopping centers was Walton’s Mountain. Perhaps it took longer to register because one doesn’t expect a peak associated with Depression-era Virginia to be looming majestically over Burbank. 

Squad 51

I used to love watching Emergency on Saturday nights. Paramedics John Gage and Roy DeSoto reported for work at Squad 51, a real fire station (actually Station 127) located in Carson, California. The site has since honored its TV connection with a plaque dedicated to Emergency writer and producer Robert A Cinader, who also created the series. You’ll find the station at 2049 E. 223^rd St., just off the San Diego Freeway. 

Fantasy Island

No need to charter a plane to a remote island to see where Mr. Roarke and Tattoo greeted their guests. The building where Tattoo rang the bell at the start of each episode is the Queen Anne Cottage at the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden. It’s in the city of Arcadia – take the 210 Freeway to the Baldwin St. exit and follow the signs. Even without the classic TV connection, it’s a beautiful place to spend a day. 

The Batcave

Near the beginning of almost every Batman episode, you’ll see the Batmobile speed through a hidden passageway before making the 14-mile drive to Gotham City. What you’re looking at is the Bronson Caves in LA’s Griffith Park.  This is one of those instances where the reality of the location falls far short of its fictional fame. Once you’ve made the quarter-mile hike from the parking lot on Canyon Drive, you’ll a rather undistinguished cave entrance, basically a mouse hole-shaped opening leading into a short tunnel. The surrounding scenery is nice, though. 

General Hospital

For more than 20 years, General Hospital opened with a shot of an ambulance speeding toward a stately white building. This one is really easy to find – it’s the old Los Angeles County General Hospital, now a wellness center of the Los Angeles County-University of Southern California Medical Center. Get on the 10 Freeway and look to your right, just before the 10 turns into the 101. The address is 1200 N. State St.

The Hooterville Cannonball and Water Tower

I haven’t visited these yet, as they are located in the Railtown 1897 State Historic Park in Jamestown, California. That’s a 6-hour drive from Los Angeles and almost 3 hours from San Francisco. But I love Petticoat Junction. It’s everything that Comfort TV is supposed to be – simpler times, kinder characters, and optimistic, uplifting messages. So this fall I plan to climb aboard that little train, and think about a time and place where life was like that, even if it never really existed.