Classic TV Shows That (Almost) Made Me Cry

 

I’ve never been a crier. I don’t say that with either pride or shame – it’s just the way I’ve always been. I feel the emotions I’m supposed to feel if the show has earned its desired response, but I’m no pushover. I’ve watched too much television to not know the difference between a well-crafted scene and one that is shameless in its attempted manipulation. 

 

 

My eyes have watered up a few times, but not for those moments depicting some sort of tragedy, such as on M*A*S*H when Radar announced that Col. Henry Blake’s plane had been shot down over the Sea of Japan. It was shocking and powerful and beautifully performed, and I felt the weight of it, but no tears.

 

But I’ll tell which type of scene is most likely to get to me, starting with the one that hit me the hardest. It’s from the Doctor Who episode “Vincent and the Doctor.” If you’ve seen the episode you already know what it is. If you haven’t please don’t read any more, as I’d rather you discovered the absolute magic of that moment without being spoiled.

 

All clear? OK.

 

This was a show that aired in 2010, but since Doctor Who dates back to 1963 we can grandfather it in as Comfort TV. It opens with The Doctor and his current companion Amy Pond visiting the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, The Doctor notices a strange alien figure in one of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings, and travels back to the artist’s era to find out how it got there. 

 

They meet the troubled Van Gogh, of course, and eventually resolve the mystery, but The Doctor decides that this tortured genius that rarely sold any paintings in his lifetime should be made aware of his legacy. So they travel in the TARDIS back to the Musée d'Orsay in present day, and Vincent enters a room entirely devoted to his work. 

 

 

These are the moments that, for me, resonate most deeply – when someone who may feel unappreciated, unloved, is shown how much he or she has meant to others, or in this case to the world at large. We’ve all had those misgivings from time to time, and to get that acknowledgement - that we haven’t been forgotten, and that someone recognizes what we do for others and that we’ve mattered in the grand scheme of things – it’s a powerful affirmation.

 

Thinking of other classic TV moments like this, I must begin with  “My Dad” from The Donna Reed Show. The episode opens with Dr. Alex Stone and his son Jeff ready to tee off at a father-son golf tournament, when Alex is paged to respond to an emergency call. As the story plays out we learn this happens often, leaving Jeff accustomed to disappointment and Alex lamenting how he has time to take care of everyone else’s children, while neglecting his own.

 

With Jeff scheduled to perform at a high school concern, Alex gets two other doctors to take his calls so he won’t miss it. But en route to the school he is pulled over by a police officer who tells him there’s been an accident with a child involved that needs immediate help. He gets to the school only after the show is over.  The scene that follows is as memorable as any this wonderful series ever produced.

 

Parental appreciation was also the focus of “Father of the Year” on The Brady Bunch. The episode aired halfway through the show’s first season, when this blended family was still coming together and adjusting to a new normal. That Marcia would already think so highly of her new dad, to nominate him for that honor, is touching in itself.

 

Of course, all does not go smoothly. Marcia realizes too late that entries must be mailed on the day hers is completed, and sneaks out of the house to mail it. That gets her grounded – but it’s all worth it when Mike Brady arrives home to find a camera crew from a local news station, and is presented with the award. The close-up on Maureen McCormick’s face, as Marcia beams with pride, is one of my favorite moments from one of my favorite shows. Robert Reed’s dissatisfaction with the quality of Brady scripts is well known, but I would bet that when he read this one, especially its final moments, he said “That’s more like it.” 

 

 

Teachers are also among our most under-appreciated public servants, as evidenced in the Fame episode “A Special Place,” in which budget cuts at the School of the Arts result in the firing of beloved acting teacher Mr. Crandall. 

 

His students and others gather for a tribute, and perform the song “Starmaker.” I think it’s one of the most popular songs to emerge from that series, though I’ve always been partial to  “Hi Fidelity” and “Mr. Cool.”

 

 

Every good teacher deserves a send-off like that one.

 

Your turn – what classic TV episodes moved you to tears?

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Sunday Nights, 1975

 

Time to start a new year in our journey through the 1970s, and to realize we’re already halfway through the decade. I hope you’ve enjoyed these pieces as much as I have – celebrating some iconic shows, remembering others long forgotten, and looking back fondly on all the other series that filled our evenings with a pleasant diversion from gas shortages and political scandals.

 

Perhaps the best news – in 1975, Sony introduced the Betamax, and for the first time we could all go out and save our favorite shows to watch later. I wonder how many of these series are still in someone’s tape collection?

 

Sunday, 1975

 

ABC

Swiss Family Robinson

The Six Million Dollar Man

ABC Sunday Night Movie

 

ABC won the night according to the Nielsen ratings, with The Six Million Dollar Man at #9, and the Sunday Night Movie at #13.

 

New to the lineup was Swiss Family Robinson, produced by famed master of disaster Irwin Allen. Martin Milner played the head of the Robinson clan, supported by future TV stars Willie Aames and Helen Hunt. 

 

 

The cast also included Cameron Mitchell, who found time from guest-starring on every other 1970s series to stick around for all 20 episodes. 

 

 

 

I’m not sure why this one didn’t last more than one season. Perhaps audiences still had fond memories of the 1960 Disney version starring John Mills and Dorothy McGuire, which told that story about as well as it could be told, while also inspiring a popular Disneyland attraction in the Robinson’s elaborate treehouse.

 

 

CBS

Three For the Road

Cher

Kojak

Bronk

 

As with Swiss Family Robinson, Three For the Road was a perfectly pleasant show with a likable cast that just never found a big enough audience. Alex Rocco played a freelance photographer, and a widower with two sons, played by Vincent Van Patten and Leif Garrett. Together they travel the country in an RV, so Rocco’s character can take whatever assignments come his way. 

 

 

Both Van Patten and Garrett were already making the cover of Tiger Beat, but not enough teen girls tuned in to keep the show around. Maybe they were watching Willie Aames on ABC, and couldn’t yet afford a Betamax.

 

The writing could get a little wonky; lines like “Sometimes you act like you don’t know your big toe from a trombone” betray an older writer’s inability to find a teenager’s voice. But it was a gentle show that always had its heart in the right place.

Cher’s solo variety series lasted longer than ex-husband Sonny’s, which isn’t surprising, through it was also canceled after one season. But what was deemed unsuccessful in 1975 is today a wonderful time capsule of great performances by the era’s top pop stars.

 

 

 

Even with a poor lead-in, Kojak remained a top 20 series, but viewers did not stay for a second helping of cops-and-robbers action in Bronk. Jack Palance played the title character, a detective-lieutenant in Ocean City, California who worked closely with the town’s mayor (Joseph Mascolo) on special cases. Just a guess, but audiences may have expected tough-guy Palance to be a small-screen version of Dirty Harry, but were disappointed by the character’s more laid-back persona.  

 

 

 

NBC

The Wonderful World of Disney

The Family Holvak

The NBC Sunday Night Mystery Movie

 

This was not one of Disney’s more memorable seasons, though animal lovers would likely disagree, given episodes like “The Boy Who Talked to Badgers,” “The Bears and I” and “The Survival of Sam the Pelican.”

 

My last 70s piece included a short-lived series called The New Land that appeared to be similar to The Waltons. Now we have another in The Family Holvak, about a preacher and his wife and kids struggling to get by in the Great Depression. I never saw The New Land but I’m guessing this series was better – it would almost have to be with a cast headlined by Glenn Ford and Julie Harris. Those performances certainly helped but I found it slow, and caught myself glancing at the clock a few times, something I rarely did when visiting Walton’s Mountain. 

 

 

Finally, the Sunday Mystery Movie adds one new feature to its revolving lineup of returning favorites Columbo, McCloud, and McMillan and Wife. McCoy starred Tony Curtis as a gambler and con man who uses his skills to steal from crooks. Never saw it, and probably never will see it because only four episodes were made before it was dropped from the rotation. 

 

 

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)

In Memoriam: The Pie in the Face Gag

 

Serious question for anyone still watching scripted television today – when was the last time (if ever) you saw a character take a pie in the face? 

 

 

I’m guessing the answer will be zero. Like funny drunks and bosses who chase their secretaries around a desk, this once-renowned paragon of slapstick humor seems to have been phased out of polite society by our elitist betters. Try hitting someone with a pie now and your show will earn a TV-M rating for an offensive exhibition of violence, not to mention an egregious waste of pastry.

 

But in the Comfort TV era, a custard pie in the face was a guaranteed laugh generator, as well as an homage to the earliest days of silent cinema. According to what my friend Mitchell Hadley refers to as “the always reliable Wikipedia” (I sense sarcasm), its first victim was comedian Ben Turpin in the 1909 movie Mr. Flip. But from Our Miss Brooks to Night Court – a span of 40 years in network television, it was a moment that might happen at any time, on any series, to preserve a proud show business tradition.

 

The most prominent keeper of that tradition was Soupy Sales, who hosted children’s shows between 1949 and 1979. 

 

 

Sales’ pie-tossing antics were the inspiration for two classic TV moments. “When a Bowling Pin Talks, Listen,” is one of my five favorite episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show. It starts with Rob arriving home after a day of trying unsuccessfully to generate an idea for a comedy sketch. His son Richie suggests doing something with a talking bowling pin; the next day, Rob, Buddy and Sally develop that idea into a wonderful routine for Alan Brady (the scenes in this series that illustrate the creativity of talented writers are always a delight.)

 

But unbeknownst to Rob, Richie’s idea came from watching a talking bowling pin bit on a children’s show hosted by Uncle Spunky. The joy in the writer’s room turns to panic when they realize they could be fired for stealing from another series. 

 

Alan finds a solution, and at Rob’s urging agrees to appear on Uncle Spunky’s show, unaware that every guest gets hit with a pie. Alan is ready for payback, but it doesn’t go quite as planned.

 

Also inspired by Soupy, “Captain Crocodile,” the host of a kids’ show in an early episode of The Monkees. The band appears on the series, and all four of them are hit with pies before the episode’s opening credits. 

 

 

Of course Lucille Ball would get in on this fun, and more than once. Remember “The Diner” on I Love Lucy, which ended with the kind of full-out pie fight made famous by the Three Stooges? And on The Lucy Show, when Lucy enters a pie-baking contest, I’m sure most viewers knew exactly how the episode would end – and enjoyed it anyway. 

 

 

Slapstick wasn’t as commonplace on The Brady Bunch, but this was a series in which Mike fell into his own wedding cake in the first episode. Four seasons later, Cousin Oliver was welcomed to the family in a show best remembered for that infamous event (“Welcome Aboard”), but also featured the family re-enacting a silent comedy at a movie studio, complete with pies splattering everywhere. 

 

 

Even Norman Lear’s sophisticated, topical sitcoms weren’t above a little lowbrow humor every once in a while. I recall a Maude episode about a telethon, in which Maude didn’t wait for God to get Walter and hit him with a pie instead.

 

All of these scenes are meant to be funny, yet I did feel a little sorry for two flying pie victims on two different shows, perhaps because they were both teenage girls in the process of having their dreams shattered.

 

On The Patty Duke Show, Patty cures a rare moment of low self-confidence by landing a modeling job – but the gig is for a comedic advertising campaign in which she is doused with water, dropped from a hammock and, yes, hit with a pie. 

 

 

And on The Love Boat, Vicki is thrilled when a famous child star boards to shoot scenes from a movie on the ship, and offers Vicki a chance to be her stand-in. But that means taking the abuse the star is too good to handle, including – you guessed it. Guest star Alison Arngrim, the devil child from Little House on the Prairie, is in familiar territory here.

 

Do I have a favorite? Glad you asked. It’s the Bewitched episode “Double, Double, Toil and Trouble,” in which Serena impersonates Sam and torments a confused Darrin, until he finally sees through her charade. But that’s when Samantha returns home, with a pie from the bakery. Still believing she’s Serena, he lets her have it. What makes this moment special is how Elizabeth Montgomery clearly breaks character, being unable to suppress her laughter, while the line she was supposed to say was looped in later. 

 

 

First runner-up among my favorites: “There Was a Time Ann Met a Pie Man,” an episode of That Girl built entirely around a pie hit. 

 

Ann is offered a comedy spot on a popular TV show in which she will be the target, and wonders whether it will hurt her career. 

 

 

Second runner-up: who can forget this commercial parody clip with Johnny Carson that was aired every year on The Tonight Show’s anniversary broadcast?  

 

 

 

And with Christmas TV viewing right around the corner, don’t miss “’Twas the Pie Before Christmas,” from the final season of The Bob Newhart Show. 

 

Yes, I know I missed quite a few. Be sure to add your favorites to the comments. And if pies are still being thrown somewhere on series television, let me know. I’d be delighted to learn that my eulogy was premature.

Classic Halloween TV Movie: Moon of the Wolf

 

Every October I like to look back on at least one of the classic TV horror movies, just in time for Halloween. And every year I realize, given the number of memorable films presented by the networks, especially in the 1970s and ‘80s, that I should probably explore this territory more often. 

 

This year the choice was particularly tough. Salem’s Lot, a worthy adaptation of the Stephen King novel? Scream queen Linda Blair in Summer of Fear? Should we travel across the pond for the classy but creepy The Woman in Black, which debuted on British television? Or watch Kim Darby and Jim Hutton contend with the demons in their fireplace in Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark? 

 

As I wrote in previous pieces like this, what makes these movies interesting is how they manage to frighten an audience without the graphic blood and guts mayhem employed by most contemporary horror movies. Through creative filmmaking technique and effective performances, they managed to comply with broadcast standards that placed strict limits on violence, and became triumphs of artistry over gore.

 

And if you don’t think a film that debuted in prime time a half-century ago could actually be scary, watch Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark from 1973 – and don’t blame me if you then jump at every noise in your house, and don’t get much sleep that night. 

 

But this year, I’m going with Moon of the Wolf, because you can’t go wrong with a good werewolf story, and because this 1972 classic stars one of my favorite Comfort TV actors, David Janssen. 

 

 

 

It’s arguably the least frightening of the titles I’ve already mentioned, but it’s also the most evocative. The first half plays more like a Southern Gothic murder mystery, after the body of a young woman is discovered in Louisiana marshland, with part of her torn to shreds.  Janssen plays Sheriff Aaron Whitaker, who is called to investigate. 

 

 

His search takes him to office of the local doctor (John Beradino), who had an affair with the girl, and to the ancestral home of the Rodanthe family, who established the community a hundred years earlier. The current heir, Andrew Rodanthe (Bradford Dillman) also had a hidden connection to the victim. The sheriff is pleased to see Andrew’s sister Louise (Barbara Rush) has come home, as their relationship dates back to high school.

 

 

Sheriff Whitaker focuses on three suspects and throws one of them in jail, but his investigation is upended after that suspect is mauled to death by someone – or something – strong enough to tear iron bars from concrete walls. 

 

Meanwhile the father of the murdered girl, already on his deathbed, keeps exclaiming the same mysterious word in French – “Lougaroug.” 

 

What does it all mean? It doesn’t take long to find out. Another benefit of these TV movies is that many of them unfold at a crisp 75-80 minute running time, long enough to deliver a layered story but short enough not to monopolize your entire evening. 

 

David Janssen was such a grounded actor that it was fun to watch his character contend with something supernatural. He had wonderful chemistry with Barbara Rush, which isn’t surprising as they had worked together before, most notably in the classic two-part Fugitive story “Landscape With Running Figures.”

 

I also enjoyed seeing John Beradino here, playing a doctor but one that was very different from the esteemed physician he played on General Hospital from 1963 to 1996. 

 

How does it end? That would be telling. But if you prefer Halloween stories with more subtlety than shock value, give Moon of the Wolf a try on YouTube. And take a moment to look back fondly on the time when three networks could turn out dozens of quality original films every television season, challenging us to choose between the ones that looked most interesting and our favorite regular series. How wonderful that so many we missed the first time around can now be enjoyed online.

My Journey Through 1970s TV: Saturday Nights, 1974

 

To go out, or to stay in on a Saturday night? That was the question (and probably still is), but in 1974 one network offered a compelling reason to skip the restaurant and the movie, and order in a pizza.

 

Saturday, 1974

 

CBS

All in the Family

Paul Sand in Friends and Lovers

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

The Bob Newhart Show

The Carol Burnett Show

 

CBS programs dominated the mid-‘70s on Saturday nights; All in the Family remained the season’s #1 show, followed by Mary Tyler Moore at #9, Bob Newhart at #12, and Carol Burnett at #27. 

 

All in the Family was about midway through its nine-season run, but was already such a phenomenon that CBS aired a special salute to the Bunkers in December, hosted by Henry Fonda. This was also the season in which George and Louise Jefferson were spun off into their own successful series. 

 

 

New to the lineup was Paul Sand in Friends and Lovers, but not for very long. What an odd title – I assume they wanted Sand to have his name in the title like Mary, Bob, and Carol – but they were all already known quantities to viewers, where he was not. According to series co-creator Allan Burns, they gave Sand his own series because he and James Brooks were so impressed by his guest spot as an IRS agent on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. But despite being surrounded by hits on the schedule, the series never found an audience. 

 

 

It’s been decades since I’ve seen it, but in my memory Sand came off like a slightly less nebbish-like Woody Allen, and that’s not the type of character that viewers would embrace on a weekly basis. CBS dropped it after 15 episodes, but Sand continued to work steadily for decades, and is still with us at age 92.

 

NBC

Emergency

NBC Saturday Night Movie

 

Emergency continued to draw enough viewers in its fourth season to stick around, even against such formidable competition. Did you know that the Squad 51 fire engine shown on the series is now housed at The Los Angeles County Fire Museum, along with other equipment used on the show?  

 

 

ABC

The New Land

Kung Fu

Nakia

 

The returning Kung Fu would survive another season, even sandwiched between two shows that were given hasty exits.

 

I’ve never seen The New Land, so on the “Missed” list it goes. But from what I’ve read and the clips I’ve seen it appears ABC was trying to pull in some of the Waltons audience with another series about a rural family struggling to survive hard times. Here its Minnesota in the 1850s, and the Larsen family, immigrants from Scandinavia, try to claim their share of the American dream. 

 

 

Bonnie Bedelia and Kurt Russell are in it, and John Denver performed the theme song, but it was pulled from the schedule after just six episodes. That was bad news for the Lookinland family, given the cancellation of The Brady Bunch at the end of the previous season. Todd Lookinland played young Tuliff Larsen, and was hoping to keep those network paychecks coming in, but it was not to be. Mike would be back on the air two years later, singing and dancing with his TV family plus Fake Jan, on The Brady Bunch Variety Hour.

 

Nakia was another ‘70s law-and-order series set in the wide-open spaces of the Southwest. Previous attempts (Cade’s County, Man of the City) hadn’t made it, and this one didn’t either. 

 

 

But it had Robert Forster in the title role as a deputy sheriff of Navajo heritage, based in Davis County, New Mexico. According to IMDB, this series gave Lynda Carter her first acting credit, just one year before she became Wonder Woman. That clip is on YouTube along with one full episode. Forster's always good, but I enjoyed the clip more. 

 

 

 

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)

 

Classic TV Commercials: Less Noise, Normal People

 

The list of activities that truly make me happy seems to dwindle with each passing year. One that still qualifies is watching compilations of vintage TV commercials on YouTube, particularly those that share a Halloween or Christmas theme. And thankfully we’re now into the season when doing so would seem slightly less strange than watching them in April. But I do that too.

 

 

This time, however, I am revisiting my favorite compilations not just for pleasure but also as a scientific analysis. After enduring far too many current commercials, which can lower a viewer’s IQ in just 30 seconds, I was curious to study how many of those 1970s and ’80s ads also featured people acting like idiots.

 

Before revealing the result I should clarify what “acting like an idiot” entails, as there are many idiots loose in the wild today that see nothing unusual in their behavior. For the purpose of this study an idiot is defined as someone who, if they did what they are doing in the real world and not in a commercial, would draw incredulous stares from everyone in the surrounding area.

 

I would also like to clarify that I am unaware of any offensive connotation (outside of the obvious) to the word “idiot” and whether it is now discriminatory or intolerant to any subset of humanity based on any pre-existing condition over which they have no control.

 

Can’t be too careful these days.

 

I will also not classify all unusual behavior as idiotic if there is a supernatural element involved, as is frequently found in Halloween spots. If a housewife turns into a witch, that’s just seasonal fun. 

 

 

This is the Halloween video I reviewed. It contains about 80 commercials.

 

How many of these spots do you think would measure on the idiot scale? Here’s the answer – two. Just two out of ±80. I think that’s a ratio viewers would welcome now, as it means far fewer lunges for the mute button. 

 

 

Not long after completing my study, I turned on a network with commercials – doesn’t really matter which one – and not three commercials passed before a first ballot hall-of-fame idiot popped up to celebrate his drug prescription. A few minutes later, just two commercials aired before another cringe-worthy exhibition.

 

Can we learn anything from this? Does it say something about how television has changed, how the culture has changed, or is it merely a result of advertisers having to fight so much harder now to get our attention?

 

These are the real questions. I’m not sure I have the answers. But as this blog has evolved I hope it has become a place to not just celebrate the wonderful shows of the past, but also to look beneath the surface, and try to understand why television is the way it is now, and why the decisions being made by content producers seem so different from what they used to be.

 

I understand the pressure of having to pull viewers away from other distractions that did not exist in the Comfort TV era, when the television screen was the only screen in the house. When people watched TV then their focus was not distracted by incoming text messages or the latest viral TikTok upload.

 

Knowing that an audience was watching and listening (mute buttons were also less commonplace), commercials didn’t have to shout to get your attention. Advertisers hired spokespersons with pleasing voices, or gave us a glimpse into recognizable home and business settings, with a more simple, straightforward message: here’s a product we think you’d like, and this is why.

 

 

But that might not be enough anymore, so they yell, or try to compensate for muted sound with visuals so bizarre they hope viewers will restore the audio to find out what’s going on.

 

Does it work? And if it works for commercials, would it not make sense to try the same strategy for a TV series? I pulled up a list of the 25 best TV series according to RogerEbert.com. I won’t judge them without having watched them, but from the descriptions it’s clear that many feature characters that exist far outside the mainstream, and capable of extreme behavior. 

 

 

Maybe there is a through-line here, in a time when it’s become fashionable to denigrate the normal. The traditional. The spiritual (Halloween ghosts? Yes! Holy Ghost? No.) And that is the culture television now reflects. It depends on your perspective, I guess. All I know is that the Halloween commercial compilation I watched now has more than 1.3 million views, and has elicited thousands of comments like the following:

 

“There was never a better time in history to be a kid then the 70's and 80's. Thanks for putting this together. Great memories!”

 

“There’s something magical about old commercials, like there’s a certain charm about them”

 

 “I would do anything to be able to go back and live in this time period.”

 

“Little did we know how good we had it back then. Is so different today I wish my kids could have grown up back then.”

 

“I look back at all these retro commercials with nostalgia and some sadness. It reminds me of those days when we had hope for our lives, our country, our loved ones. Unlike now where it feels like we are on the verge of collapse and our quality of life is deteriorating fast. We don’t have to pretend to be frightened of evil spooks in an imaginary world, we are living that reality now.”

 

Will today’s commercials – will today’s television shows – elicit a similar response 50 years from now? I seriously doubt it.