Last week's review of 1978 programs on Sunday nights included Mary Tyler Moore’s return to television in a variety show that was canceled after just three episodes. A sign, surely, that audiences had grown tired of the comedy-variety format after a decade of oversaturation.
That was sad news for the specialty act performers who made their living doing guest spots on these series.
The best of them always delivered a highlight moment – the worst offered viewers an opportunity for a snack run without waiting for a commercial. Here are the first five I recalled from that era, ranked from worst to best.
5. Bill Saluga as Raymond J. Johnson Jr.
Most variety performers brought fresh material to the gimmick they had created so audiences wouldn’t tire of them. Not so Bill Saluga, who did the exact same bit every time, to the delight of those who loved it and the frustration of everyone else. And if you’re around my age, you’re probably already reciting it in your head.
Saluga would appear in the same brown suit, fedora hat and big cigar, and someone would always address him as Mr. Johnson, at which time he’d launch into this response:
Long before the Liberty Mutual insurance commercials, the most famous emu on television belonged to puppeteer Rod Hull, whose slapstick-heavy act made him a star in Australia and the UK before he began appearing on American variety shows, most notably The Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show.
Credit Hull for this – he always went full speed ahead with this act no matter who was in his proximity. He famously destroyed the Queen Mother’s bouquet of flowers at a Royal Variety Performance, and it takes real guts to assault Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show.
3. Shields & Yarnell
Mimes are so often mocked, even by other entertainers, but for a brief moment in the ‘70s the team of Robert Shields and Lorene Yarnell became so popular they were given their own variety show.
The duo first rose to fame after appearances on The Mac Davis Show and The Sonny and Cher Show, playing robotic characters dubbed “The Clinkers.” I can still recall the first time I watched this routine, and being absolutely fascinated by it. Their blank wide-eyed stares and mechanical movements, accompanied by motorized sound effects, was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. The novelty wore off eventually, but not the appreciation for how they had mastered this one aspect of their craft. It’s still remarkably impressive now.
2. Foster Brooks
Though he had largely retired from performing by the late 1980s and passed away in 2001, Foster Brooks is probably the best-remembered of the acts mentioned here.
Dozens of content reactors on YouTube have discovered him through his appearances on The Dean Martin Show and The Dean Martin Roasts. I always enjoy watching those who at first don’t get it: “Is he really drunk? How sad! Oh, the tragedy of alcoholism!” But most find him hysterical, which is reassuring given how a sense of humor was the first casualty of this millennium.
Funny drunks are rarely considered funny anymore, but they’ve been around as long as film and television, from Jimmy Stewart in The Philadelphia Story to Otis in The Andy Griffith Show. But Brooks set a new standard for the archetype. That he was such a distinguished looking man only added to the comedic impact of his slurred speech and halting mannerisms, all of which he clearly prepped meticulously to make the most of every word. Plus, his material was always A-list as well.
Einstein was asked for his favorite Super Dave moment, and he selected “King of the Hill.” If you’ve never seen it, here it is. Enjoy!
5. Bill Saluga as Raymond J. Johnson Jr.
Most variety performers brought fresh material to the gimmick they had created so audiences wouldn’t tire of them. Not so Bill Saluga, who did the exact same bit every time, to the delight of those who loved it and the frustration of everyone else. And if you’re around my age, you’re probably already reciting it in your head.
Saluga would appear in the same brown suit, fedora hat and big cigar, and someone would always address him as Mr. Johnson, at which time he’d launch into this response:
And then he’d repeat it a second time, and sometimes a third. Was it funny? I don’t know – humor is highly subjective. But Saluga got more mileage out of one 30-second monologue than many comics achieve in 20 years. He created the character in 1969, performed it in the famous Lite Beer from Miller commercials, and then on variety shows featuring Redd Foxx, Tom Jones and David Steinberg.
Bob Dylan referenced the bit in his song “Gotta Serve Somebody” (“You may call me Bobby or you may call me Zimmy”) – how’s that for a tribute? But it was also referenced on The Simpsons and King of the Hill – though not in the same flattering terms.
Bob Dylan referenced the bit in his song “Gotta Serve Somebody” (“You may call me Bobby or you may call me Zimmy”) – how’s that for a tribute? But it was also referenced on The Simpsons and King of the Hill – though not in the same flattering terms.
As Krusty the clown observed, “That thing was funny for about three seconds.”
4. Rod Hull and Emu
4. Rod Hull and Emu
Long before the Liberty Mutual insurance commercials, the most famous emu on television belonged to puppeteer Rod Hull, whose slapstick-heavy act made him a star in Australia and the UK before he began appearing on American variety shows, most notably The Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show.
Credit Hull for this – he always went full speed ahead with this act no matter who was in his proximity. He famously destroyed the Queen Mother’s bouquet of flowers at a Royal Variety Performance, and it takes real guts to assault Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show.
This is one of his subtler routines that spotlights how, like the best of puppeteers, he could make an audience believe that puppet was real.
3. Shields & Yarnell
Mimes are so often mocked, even by other entertainers, but for a brief moment in the ‘70s the team of Robert Shields and Lorene Yarnell became so popular they were given their own variety show.
The duo first rose to fame after appearances on The Mac Davis Show and The Sonny and Cher Show, playing robotic characters dubbed “The Clinkers.” I can still recall the first time I watched this routine, and being absolutely fascinated by it. Their blank wide-eyed stares and mechanical movements, accompanied by motorized sound effects, was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. The novelty wore off eventually, but not the appreciation for how they had mastered this one aspect of their craft. It’s still remarkably impressive now.
2. Foster Brooks
Though he had largely retired from performing by the late 1980s and passed away in 2001, Foster Brooks is probably the best-remembered of the acts mentioned here.
Dozens of content reactors on YouTube have discovered him through his appearances on The Dean Martin Show and The Dean Martin Roasts. I always enjoy watching those who at first don’t get it: “Is he really drunk? How sad! Oh, the tragedy of alcoholism!” But most find him hysterical, which is reassuring given how a sense of humor was the first casualty of this millennium.
Funny drunks are rarely considered funny anymore, but they’ve been around as long as film and television, from Jimmy Stewart in The Philadelphia Story to Otis in The Andy Griffith Show. But Brooks set a new standard for the archetype. That he was such a distinguished looking man only added to the comedic impact of his slurred speech and halting mannerisms, all of which he clearly prepped meticulously to make the most of every word. Plus, his material was always A-list as well.
1. Bob Einstein as Super Dave Osborne
I don’t know if this will elevate or diminish my readers’ opinion of my taste in humor, but in my 50 or so years of television viewing the Super Dave Osborne skits are some of the funniest things I have ever watched.
On the surface it’s just updating physical humor that goes back to the silent era. And a skit with a 6-9-minute set-up for a payoff that lasts maybe three seconds shouldn’t theoretically work. But every aspect of these presentations is so well-conceived that the build-up is at least half the fun.
For the uninitiated, Super Dave is a daredevil stuntman clearly modeled after Evel Knievel. Each segment features Dave, sportscaster Mike Walden, and Dave’s stunt coordinator Fuji, who somehow keeps his job despite nearly killing his boss. Einstein explains each stunt with a low-key deadpan delivery and faux earnestness, always emphasizing safety. One of the best running jokes is how his protective gear is always comprised of genuine Saskatchewan sealskin bindings. But despite such careful preparation, something always goes wrong.
I don’t know if this will elevate or diminish my readers’ opinion of my taste in humor, but in my 50 or so years of television viewing the Super Dave Osborne skits are some of the funniest things I have ever watched.
On the surface it’s just updating physical humor that goes back to the silent era. And a skit with a 6-9-minute set-up for a payoff that lasts maybe three seconds shouldn’t theoretically work. But every aspect of these presentations is so well-conceived that the build-up is at least half the fun.
For the uninitiated, Super Dave is a daredevil stuntman clearly modeled after Evel Knievel. Each segment features Dave, sportscaster Mike Walden, and Dave’s stunt coordinator Fuji, who somehow keeps his job despite nearly killing his boss. Einstein explains each stunt with a low-key deadpan delivery and faux earnestness, always emphasizing safety. One of the best running jokes is how his protective gear is always comprised of genuine Saskatchewan sealskin bindings. But despite such careful preparation, something always goes wrong.
Einstein was asked for his favorite Super Dave moment, and he selected “King of the Hill.” If you’ve never seen it, here it is. Enjoy!
