Was TV’s Gidget NSFW?

 

“Oh, so you like the creepy ones.”

 

That was the response I received during a discussion about favorite episodes of the delightful short-lived sitcom Gidget, featuring Sally Field in her first starring role. 

 

 

I was surprised by that word choice as I never viewed any situation comedies from the 1960s as “creepy,” unless it was a Halloween episode, or unless Rob Petrie dreamed he lost his thumbs to an alien that looked like Danny Thomas.

 

 

I cited two episodes as favorites, both of which had one common trait – Gidget becomes infatuated with an older man. That was not the reason I liked them – I thought the stories were well told and cleverly presented. Both also had laugh-out-loud moments, as well as tender scenes between Sally Field and Don Porter as Gidget’s patient, loving father. Their relationship was always the strongest element of the series for me.

 

But just a one-sentence plot description was enough to earn a “creepy” designation from someone who does enjoy classic TV, but who is also younger and grew up in a different America than I did – one in which people are much quicker to view a situation without benefit of context in the most harmful light possible.

 

These are the episodes: You be the judge.

 

“The Great Kahuna”

All the kids at the beach are starstruck by the Kahuna, a legendary beachcomber who travels the world in search of the next big wave. Gidget is thrilled just to be the girl who brings him a Coke, but when an old flame of the Kahuna’s shows up, he pretends that he and Gidget are an item. She doesn’t buy it for a minute (“How old is this un-riped tomato?”) but it’s enough to momentarily discourage her. For helping him out of a jam he tells Gidget they are now “connected forever in the design of the gods.” 

 

After that Gidget is ready to follow him anywhere, but the Kahuna and Gidget’s father both have other ideas. And, in time, so does Gidget.

 

“I Love You, I Love You, I Think.”

Gidget meets an older guy on the beach and they start surfing together. He calls her adorable after she supplies a picnic lunch but never acknowledges that they have a relationship. “At least for the next five to six years,” he tells her. “Talk to me then and I might make you a serious proposition.”

 

With school starting next Monday, the mystery man urges Gidget to forget him, and she calls it the perfect romance – “over before it had a chance to begin.” But on Monday she walks into math class and guess who’s her teacher? And while the moment they see each other is every bit as awkward as it should be, it’s also hilarious, because of some unexpected slapstick moments and because Sally Field is a gifted actress.

 

Obviously it’s necessary to watch the episodes to judge whether anything in them is inappropriate. But let’s first acknowledge that there are dozens of episodes like this in Comfort TV shows. Writers recognized the inherent possibilities of both humor and pathos in a crush story, as well as how relatable that situation was for viewers. How many of us in our youth or teen years had a crush on a teacher? That story was told on almost every family sitcom from Father Know Best to Family Affair. It worked  outside a classroom as well: Marcia Brady fell for her dentist; Danny Partridge was in love with the family’s tour guide at King’s Island Amusement Park.

 

These Gidget episodes are no different than the rest, except in some ways I think they are better, because in both cases the objects of Gidget’s crushes are developed into real characters instead of one-note types. The Kahuna, played by Adam-12’s Martin Milner, is at a crossroads in his life. He re-evaluates his rootless existence, just as Gidget is eager to embrace the freedom his current life represents. 

 

 

Another standout quality in both episodes is how Gidget’s father handles these moments. He does not react like a hysterical, overprotective dad, but as a man who respects his daughter, and recognizes that these infatuations are not something worthy of histrionics, but understanding. This is how a mature adult and parent should act, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his composure helped viewers who were parents when they faced a similar situation. 

 

 

I can’t imagine that anyone at the time thought these shows were creepy. In both stories, as in all of the episodes of other series that leveraged this plot for 25 carefree minutes of television, there is never any suggestion of a possible romantic relationship, and even less so of a meaningless sexual encounter. No one is taken advantage of, and no one walks away feeling misled or betrayed.

 

Reasonable people understood what these shows were about, and accepted them for what they were. A crush is normal – a situation where the older, responsible adult acts inappropriately (perhaps illegally) is not. There is a difference, and it’s not complicated.

 

But we live in a time when a lot of older series that once seemed innocent have become marginalized for any number of reasons, not the least of which is a cynical reassessment of how people should interact. It mandates that families now look a certain way; it has impacted what we are allowed to find amusing; it ascribes to a different set of values to avoid offense, and in doing so offends more potential viewers than it satisfies.

 

I find all of this deeply concerning, perhaps more so since I just turned 60, and find myself reflecting about how much has changed since the first time I watched all of these shows I still love.  

 

One brief conversation, referencing a sitcom almost as old as I am, efficiently crystallized all of these troubling thoughts into a distressing observation: too many people now see evil in things that are natural – and concurrently overlook evil in what is unnatural. I don’t think that bodes well for the future. That is why when it comes to my television choices, I will continue to live happily in the past. 

 

 

Five Classic Shows That Deserved One More Season

If you could have one more season of any TV show, which show would you choose?

That was a question posted recently in a Facebook classic TV group. The responses ranged from Grizzly Adams to Family Ties to Knots Landing (really? 14 seasons were not enough?), along with more recent shows like Bates Motel and Longmire.

As fans of the Comfort TV era one would think we’d want more episodes of all the shows from that time. But let’s be honest – most of the classics said just about everything they had to say before leaving the air. In fact, one could argue that some should have quit earlier than they did.

Consider how often the final season of a series was its weakest: Bewitched served up barely-rewritten versions of previous (and better) episodes. Marriage and/or kids removed some of the magic from Get Smart and I Dream of Jeannie. 

Multiple cast changes weakened The Waltons and Laugh-In and Happy Days and Designing Women. Budget cuts and the departures of several talented writers hastened Star Trek’s cancellation. Dallas and Moonlighting were out of good ideas even before their final seasons.

Other classics maintained a high standard of quality right to the end: I Love Lucy, The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, That Girl, The Bob Newhart Show, The Fugitive, Room 222, The Defenders, The Rockford Files. But I’m not sure I’d want to gamble with their reputations by adding one more season that might fail to measure up to its predecessors.

It’s tempting to just look at shows with comparatively short runs, but that alone should not be sufficient criteria for consideration. Much as I liked them all, I’m fine with The Monkees quitting after two seasons, The Patty Duke Show having just three seasons, and The Partridge Family parking the bus after season four. 

All that said, there certainly have been some shows that left us too soon. After much contemplation, here is my list of five series that deserved (at least) one more year.

The Courtship of Eddie’s Father (1969)

Three Seasons, 73 Episodes

Of the selected shows on my list this one lasted longest, but it still was not enough for me. A fourth season would have had Brandon Cruz’s Eddie approaching his teen years, which would have inspired rich story material to explore between Eddie and Bill Bixby, whose Tom Corbett should be on every TV fan’s list of the medium’s best dads. 

Granted, the show’s final season suffered a bit by playing more to James Komack’s bohemian photographer Norman Tinker. But this would have been an easy correction (“James, thanks for creating the show, but you’re not the reason people are tuning in.”). I’d have welcomed more stories about Mrs. Livingston when she wasn’t cooking and cleaning for the Corbetts – and perhaps a return visit from Suzanne Pleshette as Valerie Bessinger, whose courtship with Eddie’s father was the show’s most memorable.

Gidget (1965)

One Season, 32 Episodes

Gidget had the misfortune of becoming a hit after it was canceled. Scheduled against The Virginian and The Beverly Hillbillies, the series was a flop the first time around, but the ratings soared in summer reruns. By then it was too late to bring it back, so ABC did the next best thing by casting Sally Field in a new series - The Flying Nun.

Gidget was and remains the better show, and Sally Field could not have been more adorable as the sassy, surf-loving beach bunny. 

Don Porter’s casting was equally perfect as Gidget’s understanding father. At least we can be grateful that back in 1965, a single TV season could produce 32 episodes. But 32 more would not just give us more Sally to treasure, it also would have kept her out of the nun’s habit she hated for three years.

Harry O (1973)

Two Seasons, 45 Episodes

As a huge David Janssen fan I would gladly watch more cases be solved by downtrodden beachcomber detective Harry Orwell. 

The prickly friendship between Orwell and Anthony Zerbe as police lieutenant Trench was still a delight to watch, as they both buried their mutual respect between layers of open hostility. There were also memorable supporting turns from Les Lannom as geeky sleuth Lester Hodges, and Farrah Fawcett as Harry’s neighbor with benefits. But like The Fugitive this is Janssen’s show all the way, and he carries every scene with a magnetism that only the best TV stars attain.

Ellery Queen (1975)

One Season, 22 Episodes

After creating one of TV’s greatest detectives in Columbo, Richard Levinson and William Link introduced Ellery Queen to television, in the genial presence of star Jim Hutton. Set in the 1940s, the series revolved around Queen assisting his police detective father (David Wayne) on baffling murder mysteries. The high point of each episode had Hutton turning to the camera and addressing the audience at home, just before he cracked the case. “Have you figured it out?” he’d ask, before reminding us of the suspects and the most important clues. Rarely has it been more fun to match wits with the characters on screen. 

In addition to Hutton, who had a likable Jimmy Stewart quality, and the irascible David Wayne, the series had a great supporting cast: John Hillerman as Simon Brimmer, a supercilious radio personality and amateur sleuth who always guessed wrong, and Ken Swofford as bulldog journalist Frank Flannigan. I wish I could have spent more time in their company.

The Green Hornet (1966)

One Season, 26 Episodes

This Batman spin-off was played with similar visual style but less camp, and is best remembered now for Bruce Lee, who appeared opposite Van Williams as the Green Hornet’s high-kicking chauffeur, Kato. It was the first time many Americans had seen martial arts performed by a master, and the charismatic Lee insisted on authenticity in the fight choreography. 

The Green Hornet was a cult series from day one, and as such was not likely to have a very long shelf life. But one more year would have put the number of episodes over 50, which sounds about right. Given the shortness of his subsequent film career, it would be wonderful to have more Bruce Lee action scenes to enjoy. 

Runners Up:

My World and Welcome To It (1969)

James Thurber whimsy channeled through William Windom. It won Emmys but not  viewers. Perhaps, like Cheers and The Dick Van Dyke Show, it might have found an audience after a slow start had the network stuck with it. 

Apple’s Way (1974)

Writer Earl Hamner Jr.’s second attempt to create a hit series was not as successful as The Waltons, though its premise is one that might work better now: a family gets fed up living in gridlocked Los Angeles and moves to a small rural town in Iowa.  

The Secrets of Isis (1975)

Just 22 episodes? Oh, mighty letdown! 

The Five Worst Comfort TV Opening Credits Sequences

Remember “Too Many Cooks?” It was a parody of the sweet but corny opening credits sequences found on countless TV shows from the 1970s and ‘80s. 

Like much in this age of fleeting fads it was everywhere for a while and then cast into the pop culture scrap heap. 

I thought they pushed it too far, but before it progressed to twisted extremes it definitely nailed the look and feel of those vintage introductions. You could have inserted the season two credits for Angie into the mix and no one would have been the wiser. 

I’ve always had a particular fondness for credit sequences, because with each new show and sometimes each new season you never knew what you were going to get. It’s an exercise in creative marketing that I compared to movie posters back when I used to collect them.

There is no correlation between the quality of a film and the quality of the poster that promoted its exhibition. Some of the most beautiful and sought-after one-sheets advertised forgettable films, while several classics inspired unimaginative images.

It’s the same with the opening credit sequences. Some matched the quality of the series they introduced. Others did not, but were granted a pass from fans because of their proximity to beloved shows.

No such passes will be given here. In choosing the five worst Comfort TV opening credits sequences, it would be easy to cherry-pick terrible examples from forgotten shows like Sirota’s Court and Misfits of Science. But let’s go after some bigger game. 

Gidget

This is a show about a smart and free-spirited Southern California beach girl in 1965. Surf rock dominated radio that year, with the Beach Boys releasing “Help Me Rhonda” and “California Girls.” As Chandler Bing might say, “Could there be a more natural tie-in?”

But instead of reverb guitars and odes to Wilson brother harmonies, the theme song by Johnny Tillotson sounds like the kind of 1950s pop you’d expect to introduce My Little Margie ten years earlier. If they had to go in that direction, they should have kept the cocktail pop song used in the 1959 Gidget film, sung by James Darren. Even that one has more oomph. 

It’s not just the music that disappoints. The sequence consists of a succession of still photos, not taken from the series, that accomplish something almost impossible – they make Sally Field look less than adorable. 

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

The jazz theme is more appropriate to Dobie’s sidekick Maynard G. Krebs, though by the end of the first season TV’s original beatnik had already begun his transition into Gilligan with a goatee. And the crude animation depicting Dobie as a sinister-looking peeping tom also doesn’t match the girl-crazy but mild-mannered character played by Duane Hickman. 

Phyllis

Here we have the opening credit sequence as a 55-second joke, from set-up to punch line. Maybe you think the idea is funny, but is it still funny by episode 17? 

And even though in 1975 we were not yet the hypersensitive nation we’ve since become, I’m surprised more people were not taken aback by an intro that opens with a line of minstrel show performers in blackface. 

The Ropers

This one almost reaches the point where it’s so bad it almost comes around to being good again. Certainly the music has an earworm quality, but just having the cast stand one by one before different colored backdrops and do silly bits of business makes the whole sequence looks like something that was conceived and shot in about 20 minutes. And why is Patricia McCormack playing tennis?

The Lucy Show

I grew up watching this series in syndication, when every episode opened with the Kaleidoscope-style credits that debuted in season four. But in its original run, The Lucy Show tried and discarded other credit sequences that were unworthy of a TV icon.

The show’s third season was introduced with a seemingly random assemblage of episode clips, both black and white and color, that play to overly whimsical music snippets. According to The Lucy Book the visual discrepancy didn’t matter as the series was still being telecast in black and white – but now it just looks sloppy. However, even that attempt was preferable to the one introduced in season five, which had Lucy’s head popping out of an animated jack-in-the-box, while multicolored balls bounced around the screen, with appropriately cheesy musical accompaniment. 

It was used only on one episode before the show reverted back to the previous season’s credits, but has been preserved for posterity on the season five DVD set.

Comfort TV Classroom Crushes

One of the most popular family sitcom stories of the Comfort TV era is the student who develops a crush on a teacher.

I wonder, in the wake of so many news stories about inappropriate teacher-student relationships, if this trope is still popular today. Perhaps, like episodes in which characters get drunk in a funny way, it has been relegated to the scrapheap of ideas that can no longer be explored without offending someone.

That would be unfortunate. For decades the teacher crush was a go-to plot because it could naturally accommodate both comedy and earnest, sometimes painful emotion, which most viewers can appreciate having gone through a similar experience.

For me it was Miss Bobbin in second grade, a hippie chick with long dark hair that wore flowery sundresses and taught barefoot. Ah, the ‘70s.

Looking back on a selection of these episodes, there is an almost even divide between boys falling for female teachers, and girls falling for male instructors.

Most happen in high school, which is understandable. And when the series is set in high school at least one story like this is inescapable. Even the nerdy, reedy-voiced Wally Cox, who played a science teacher in Mister Peepers, became the object of a student’s affections in “The Teenage Crush” (1952). 

No series went there faster than The Patty Duke Show. “The French Teacher” was the first episode of the first season, and has Patty failing French (“a moth-eaten drag”) until her teacher leaves to get married and is replaced by dashing substitute Andre Malon (Jean-Pierre Aumont).

Starry-eyed looks turn to genuine hope after Andre offers to show her Paris if she ever visits. But when Patty starts to make plans for their future, Andre turns to her father for help:

Andre: “I think she wants to marry me!”

Martin: “It would serve you right.”

Patty was among the luckier students in these stories – a solution was found that spared her any feelings of rejection. Bud Anderson of Father Knows Best was not as fortunate during his infatuation with a French teacher in “Bud Branches Out.” Now a college freshman at the start of the show’s sixth and final season, he gets herded into French by mistake and decides to stick around after an amour-at-first-sight glance at Miss Luvois. 

Through one of those patented sitcom misunderstandings, a dinner invitation to Bud sent by his girlfriend is delivered by Miss Luvois, and he thinks it’s from her. Standing outside her home with flowers in hand, he learns the hard way that it wasn’t. But don’t feel too bad for Bud, as the girlfriend he returns to is played by gorgeous Roberta Shore.

Heartbreak usually passes quickly in these situations. In The Brady Bunch episode “The Undergraduate” the family can’t figure out why Greg is flunking math. Alice finds a note in his pocket addressed to “My true love Linda,” but after paging through a yearbook they can’t find a Linda in his class. The mystery is solved when Mike opens a school conference invitation from Greg’s math teacher – Linda O’Hara. 

Greg remains smitten until he meets Linda’s fiancé, Dodger first-baseman Wes Parker (playing himself). He offers Greg tickets to the season opener if the kid gets his math grade up, and Greg happily chooses baseball over love.

Such bribery would not work with Cissy Davis on Family Affair; her crush vanished when she learns the object of her affection is a jerk.

In “Think Deep” Robert Reed plays philosophy teacher Julian Hill, the kind of supercilious twit still found in higher education. But he has a goatee and says things like “The true personality is hidden beneath a welter of self-denigration,” and that was enough for Cissy. But then Uncle Bill invites him to dinner and the twins spill coffee on his suit, prompting the outraged Julian to call them “little monsters.” The shattered look on Cissy’s face says it all. 

The show seemed to take another run at this plotline two seasons later in “The Substitute Teacher,” in which Jody develops a fascination with Miss Evans, wonderfully played by June Lockhart. Turns out this time it’s not puppy love, but Jody gravitating toward her because of her resemblance to his late mother. Few shows delivered that kind of emotional gut-punch better than Family Affair. 

While most crush stories are told from the student perspective, Room 222 explored how the situation can be just as distressing to the teacher. In “The Coat” guidance counselor Liz McIntyre (wonderful Denise Nicholas) helps a troubled student get a job at a department store, and he mistakes her professional interest for something more. He buys her an expensive coat from the store to show his affection (actually he steals it, but it’s the thought that counts). Liz agonizes over the proper response, knowing that the wrong one may drive a dropout risk out of school for good.

Then there are those rare episodes where the student’s attraction is actually reciprocated. On The Facts of Life, the two-part episode “Taking a Chance on Love” has 19 year-old Jo embarking on a romance with her 30 year-old photography teacher. And on Wings, Brian gets to live the dream by spending the night with his ninth-grade English teacher (played by Peggy Lipton!) in “Miss Jenkins.” 

Unfortunately, he gets so caught up in the fantasy he can’t handle reality.

Joe: “You mean…”

Brian: “I got an incomplete.’

Do I have a favorite? Glad you asked. The episode is titled “I Love You, I Love You, I Love You, I Think” and it’s from Gidget. It starts when Gidget meets an older guy on the beach and they start surfing together. 

She loves it when he calls her “a pint-sized adorable doll,” though he won’t admit they have a relationship. “At least for the next five to six years,” he tells her. “Talk to me then and I might make you a serious proposition.”

With school starting next Monday, the mystery man urges Gidget to forget him, and she calls it the perfect romance – “over before it had a chance to begin.” But on Monday she walks into math class and guess who’s her teacher?

This was the pivotal scene, because given the flirting and feelings and the now much more obvious age difference, it could easily play the wrong way. But while the moment is every bit as awkward as it should be, it’s also hilarious, because of some unexpected slapstick moments and because Sally Field is a gifted actress.

Teacher and student finally talk things out, but a lot of stuff implied on the beach is deftly sidestepped in the climax, probably because there was no better way out. Still, this is one of those TV episodes that's a lot more complex and provocative than its creators intended.

If you’d like to plan your own teacher crush classic TV night, you have many other options to choose from:

“Beaver’s Crush” (Leave it to Beaver)

“Another Day Another Scholar” (The Jimmy Stewart Show)

“The Love God” (My Three Sons)

“Love at First Byte” (Head of the Class)

“The Communication Gap” (Nanny and the Professor)

Each one offers its own variations on a story that almost always makes for fun television.

Three Tips For a Groovy Classic TV Summer

It seems like July got here awfully quick, doesn’t it?

Here we are already in the most summery of the summer months – the season change from spring is now a distant memory, and fall still seems a long way away.

For classic TV fans, summer was the time when our favorite shows went away. And that was our cue to turn off the TV and stumble outside into the sunlight. The broadcast networks still adhere to this schedule, but with cable and streaming services launching new series year-round, those old viewing patterns are as much a relic of the past as this 1974 Zenith Console.

Summer never got much recognition in the shows from the Comfort TV era. Since the broadcast season of September through June paralleled that of the school year, we rarely saw families on sitcoms enjoy their summer vacation.

Of course, back then seasonal acknowledgments of any kind were inconsistent at best. There would be occasional references to Midwestern winters on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Laverne & Shirley, but most of the time mild temperatures prevailed in TV Land. The only time you saw snow was for the Christmas episodes.

Need a break from the summer sunshine? Here are three ways to commemorate the season with Comfort TV.

1. A Gidget Marathon

No classic TV series celebrated carefree, endless summer fun more than Gidget (1965). Loosely based on the 1959 film starting Sandra Dee, this was a series about the teenagers who surfed California’s beaches, at the very moment The Beach Boys immortalized them in song. 

The only thing that could make this mythical era even more delightful is having 18 year-old Sally Field as your tour guide. She was the ideal Gidget – adorable, especially when she spoke directly to the audience during each episode – sassy, spunky and ever loyal to her understanding dad (Don Porter). Together, they created some of the best father-daughter sitcom moments ever captured. 

The series was a flop the first time around, but audiences found it when it was rerun during the summer – not surprising in retrospect. In fact, the ratings were so big that ABC regretted the cancellation, and scrambled to find another vehicle for its suddenly hot star. Result? The Flying Nun, which ran three years. No, I don’t get it either.

There were just 32 episodes, so it won’t take you all summer to finish, and the DVD set features a new interview with Sally Field, who happily reflects on her beach bunny days. 

2. Create Your Own Nick at Nite Block Party Summer

Back in the 1990s, when Nick at Nite was still dedicated to preserving our classic television heritage, the cable network launched the annual Block Party Summer celebration, replacing its regular programming lineup with prime-time five-episode marathons of its most popular shows.

Presented in “VertiVision” (a reference to absolutely nothing, but it was fun to say) a typical week would consist of “Munster Mondays,” “Lucy Tuesdays,” “Bewitched Be-Wednesdays,” “Jeannie Thursdays” and “Sgt. Joe Fridays.” Choose your own Block Party Summer lineup and get reacquainted with some old favorites. If a season-long commitment is too much, just try it for a week. 

3. Hang Out at the Peach Pit

Beverly Hills 90210 debuted in 1991 – just outside our Comfort TV window, and a time in history when it wasn’t as fashionable to hate rich people as it is now. But it’s been 25 years since Brandon and Brenda Walsh moved to America’s best-known Zip code, so one cannot avoid a rush of nostalgia in returning to West Beverly High.

It’s listed here because the series owes its success to summertime. First season ratings were iffy, so the FOX Network broke with broadcast tradition and aired a summer season of new episodes. Bereft of competition, more people checked it out and a phenomenon was born – 90210 ran for ten years and 293 episodes. 

I was not among those original viewers, and was already out of its targeted age group by the time I first saw it on DVD. It was easy to understand the show’s appeal; even with higher rates of shagging and alcohol consumption, the series shares common DNA with the more innocent high school shows of previous eras, from Dobie Gillis to Degrassi.

Plus, at a time when merchandising of prime-time series had all but ceased (would you buy a Jake and the Fatman lunch box?) 90210 brought back the glory days of 1970s tie-ins. There were posters, dolls, school supplies and everything marketers could think of to capitalize on the show’s photogenic cast.

You probably won’t want to revisit all ten seasons. I watched the first four and then bailed when Shannen Doherty left. Among the highlights: The Breakfast Club-like breaking down of cliques in “Slumber Party,” the first appearance of crazy Emily Valentine in “Wildfire,” and Cathy Dennis headlines the West Beverly senior prom in “A Night to Remember.” 

 Do you have any favorite summer shows or viewing habits you’d like to share? We still have two months before the fall season begins!

 

One and Done: Seven Short-Lived Series Worth Remembering

 

Longevity isn’t always a measure of quality when it comes to television (see: Step by Step). That’s especially true over the past 5-10 years when shows like Wonderfalls and Freaks and Geeks and Firefly were pulled before their time. I thought Pan Am had its moments, too.

That was not the case in the classic TV era. Back then if a series was canceled after one season it was usually for good reason. Networks were slower to go to the hook, allowing shows like The Dick Van Dyke Show and Cheers to find their audience despite low-rated first seasons.

Unfortunately, not every show was so lucky. Here are seven Comfort TV series that disappeared too quickly, but still have their fans.

My World and Welcome To It (1969)

Maybe its blend of live-action and animation was ahead of its time. Maybe its basis in the writing of James Thurber made it sound too highbrow – or maybe it was just scheduled against Gunsmoke and never had a chance. Whatever prompted its early cancellation, My World and Welcome To It is one of television’s buried treasures. Sample the clips on YouTube and see if you don’t fall under its whimsical spell. 

Ellery Queen (1975)

After creating one of TV’s greatest detectives in Columbo, Richard Levinson and William Link introduced Ellery Queen to television, in the genial presence of star Jim Hutton. Set in the 1940s, the series revolved around Queen assisting his police detective father (David Wayne) on baffling murder mysteries. The high point of each episode had Hutton turning to the camera and addressing the audience at home, just before he cracked the case. “Have you figured it out?” he’d ask, before reminding us of the suspects and the most important clues. Rarely has it been more fun to match wits with the characters on screen. 

Gidget (1965)

Gidget made Sally Field famous but didn’t find an audience until it was rerun over the summer, not surprising for a show about surfing under the California sun. By then the show had already been canceled, and ABC scrambled to find another vehicle for its breakout star. The best they could do was The Flying Nun, which lasted three seasons but doesn’t hold up nearly as well. For all its carefree sand and surf fun, what really made Gidget memorable was the heartfelt connection between Field and costar Don Porter, who created one of TV’s most appealing father-daughter relationships. 

The Green Hornet (1966)

This Batman spin-off was played with similar visual style but less camp, and is best remembered now for Bruce Lee, who appeared opposite Van Williams as the Green Hornet’s high-kicking chauffeur, Kato. It was the first time many Americans had seen martial arts performed by a master, and the charismatic Lee insisted on authenticity in the fight choreography. Given the shortness of his subsequent film career, it would be wonderful to have more Green Hornet episodes to enjoy. 

The Magician (1973)

Two magic-themed films recently opened to mixed reviews (The Incredible Burt Wonderstone and Now You See Me), and neither was one-tenth as entertaining as The Magician, starring Bill Bixby as a magic man who helps those in trouble with his powers of prestidigitation. Bixby is one of TV’s most appealing leading men, as well as a talented amateur magician. Every illusion in the series was performed with no camera tricks or special effects.  

Jennifer Slept Here (1983)

Ann Jillian deserved a more substantive TV career. She got close with It’s a Living, but with all its title changes and timeslot changes and personnel changes the series never really found its footing. Jennifer Slept Here was her second shot. The high-concept premise has a family moving into a Beverly Hills mansion once owned by glamorous movie star Jennifer Farrell, now deceased.  As a ghost, she appears to the family’s 14 year-old son, and helps him adjust to high school, meeting girls and life in California. Jillian elevated her material as she always did, but the show could not compete against Webster and The Dukes of Hazzard.

Tenspeed and Brown Shoe (1980)

Can too much promotion kill a TV show? I think so. I never watched Malcolm in the Middle because of the obnoxious nonstop promos that FOX aired leading up to its debut. ABC tried that same desperate strategy for Tenspeed and Brown Shoe, which teamed Ben Vereen and Jeff Goldbum as unlikely detectives. Result? Big numbers for the first episode followed by rapidly diminishing returns. Perhaps if the network had merely promised a good show rather than the landmark television event of the season, viewers would have been more patient.