Was Ricky Nelson an actor, a television character, or a person? The answer is yes. And maybe no, too.
As every reader of this blog should know, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet was a family situation comedy featuring a real family – parents Ozzie and Harriet Nelson, and their two sons David and Ricky. It was scripted but several stories were based on real family events, elevated into clever and often brilliant situational comedy.
The series originated on radio in 1944. At first the two boys were played by child actors. That had to be an odd experience for David and Ricky, to hear their parents calling other kids by their names. Both then joined this dramatized version of their family in the show’s fifth season, which began in 1949. Ricky was just eight years old, and thus already a seasoned veteran at playing himself when the show began its television run in 1952.
In its early seasons the skinny kid with the classic 1950s buzzcut was billed as “the irrepressible Ricky,” acknowledging his propensity for straight talk.
Ozzie: “Do most of the girls in school like you?”
Ricky: “Oh, sure, they all do. They think I'm cute.”
David: “Oh, Ricky, stop bragging. You're not cute at all.”
Ricky: “I don't know. I was lookin' in the mirror today, and I'm not bad.”
The writers fed him the lines but he had to be convincing in saying them, and he was. He even had a catchphrase for a while: “I don’t mess around, boy.”
Ricky would play Ricky for the next 14 years, long enough for him to finish high school, become more gracious and less irrepressible, go to college, date guest stars that were all among the most beautiful young ladies of the decade (Roberta Shore, Cheryl Holdridge, Yvonne Lime, Linda Evans, Lori Saunders, Tuesday Weld, Nina Shipman), get a job at the law firm where his brother works, and get married (to Kris Harmon, who would join the show in its final seasons, also playing a pseudo version of herself).
Actors are often asked how they are alike or different from the characters they play on TV – but here that question takes on another dimension. If your name is the same as your character’s name, and you’re playing yourself but with someone else’s script, where does the person stop and the character start? Or to borrow a line from another 1950s series, “Will the real Ricky Nelson please stand up?”
The media back then were not as mercenary as they are now, so there was no concerted effort to expose any uncomfortable truths to shatter the image of “American’s favorite family,” as they were described in the show’s opening credits. Magazine features offered glowing tributes to a supportive, loving family, one portrayed as more authentic than the Andersons and the Cleavers because they were actually related.
Thankfully (and perhaps surprisingly) subsequent years have not tarnished that image too severely, though neither David nor Ricky stayed married to the wives featured on the show. Ozzie, who served as producer, director, and cowriter on hundreds of episodes, has occasionally been described as a stern taskmaster, and not the laid-back, affable guy on the show. And one can only speculate about whether David and Ricky wanted to be part of the family business for so many seasons. But when they were old enough to leave, they didn’t, which I think says something.
The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet is one of my three favorite classic shows, so I admit I’m more inclined to buy into the presumption that the Nelsons at home aren’t much different than the Nelsons playing parts on sets built to resemble the rooms in their actual residence. But who can say for certain?
One thing I do know for sure about Ricky – he was good at everything. Over the course of 14 seasons viewers saw him landing axle jumps on ice skates, riding horses with a natural ease, excelling at golf and tennis, breaking boards with judo, and even flying through the air on a trapeze (and being caught by his brother).
Given the show’s shooting schedule, you wonder where he found the time to acquire all those skills before the age of 20, while working on a series that churned out as many as 39 episodes in a single season.
And when Ricky the person wanted to start a singing career, TV’s Ricky did the same. On television, he formed a band with his high school and college friends and played fraternity dances. But the real Ricky rivaled Elvis in popularity and record sales – 53 songs on the Billboard Hot 100, 19 in the top ten. He was inducted (by John Fogerty) posthumously into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1987.
All that talent plus teen idol looks (seriously, if they ever begin cloning gene pools, they could do a lot worse than starting with the Nelsons) could form a character that girls loved but left male viewers envious, especially after their girlfriends flocked to the performing stage at the first notes of “It’s Late” or “Believe What You Say.” “What’s he got that I haven’t got?” these disgruntled dates might grumble, while hoping that no one would actually answer that question honestly.
Twenty years later, producers of The Partridge Family recognized that potential dilemma. David Cassidy was the Ricky Nelson of the 1970s – a talented singer who rose to fame on a hit TV series. But here they didn’t want Keith Partridge to seem too faultless, which is why he was so often the butt of jokes from Laurie and Danny, and why he often pursued girls that couldn’t care less about his music.
It’s interesting how that was never a concern with Ricky, or maybe as he was playing himself he didn’t want the Ricky on TV to be that different from the actual person. He had the basic decency that was more commonly found in the shows of that era, and he seemed to personify all of the qualities that parents hoped to see made manifest in their children at that time.
Teenagers in the 1950s had the same hormones and temptations felt by subsequent generations, and certainly television didn’t portray those moments that were not suitable for family viewing. I’m sure Ricky and David both sowed some oats and occasionally drank more than milkshakes. And so what? This series is about my favorite classic television characters. I’ll never know where or how often Ricky Nelson the character departed from Rick Nelson, as he preferred to be called as he grew older. But for a time that character was the emblematic American teenager of the 1950s, as well as a pioneering figure in rock and roll.
It’s a remarkable legacy, one I think should be better remembered. Hopefully the recent DVD release of all 435 episodes of The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet will introduce America’s favorite family to new generations raised on harsher fare. If they like what they see, there may be hope for us yet.
