Wednesday, March 13, 2024

My Journey Through 1970s TV; Friday Nights, 1973

 

Anyone else have happy memories of Friday nights in the 1970s? Television certainly played a role in those fond recollections, as evidenced by a closer look at the 1973 prime time schedule.

 

Some old favorites were back for one final season, along with a couple of promising newcomers that may have disappeared before they found their groove. As always, the goal is to find out if I can watch at least one episode from every show – but – spoiler alert – for this night it’s not looking good.

 

Friday, 1973

 

ABC

The Brady Bunch

The Odd Couple

Room 222

Adam’s Rib

Love American Style

 

Four of these five shows would be gone the following year, beginning with The Brady Bunch, arguably the decade’s most iconic family situation comedy. Its last batch of episodes were a mixed bag, with the unnecessary addition of Cousin Oliver offset by such memorable efforts as “Adios, Johnny Bravo,” “Mail Order Hero” (with Joe Namath), “The Cincinnati Kids” (shot at King’s Island Amusement Park) and “Getting Greg’s Goat.”

 

The show’s last episode, “The Hair-brained Scheme,” was so famously despised by Robert Reed that he refused to appear in it. Thus, when the family returns home after celebrating Greg’s high school graduation, Carol laments how Mike was out of town and had to miss an important milestone in his oldest son’s life. All these years later that’s still a bit sad, and I wonder if Reed had to do it over again, given how much this fictional family has come to mean to generations of viewers, he would reconsider. 

 

 

No one ever graduated from Walt Whitman High on Room 222, which also now wrapped up a five-season run, all with the same students in the same classroom. Stuff like that wasn’t as important back then – viewers had come to know and like Bernie and Helen and Jason, and would have missed them if they were not around. That’s a lesson later shows like Fame and Glee failed to learn. 

 

Love American Style, another Friday night staple on ABC, would also be gone at the end of this season. As would Adam’s Rib, an adaptation of the classic film about lawyers in love starring Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Tough act to follow, obviously, but Ken Howard and Blythe Danner made a better go of it than you might expect. 

 

 

So what new shows would join The Odd Couple on Fridays next year? Stay tuned…

 

NBC

Sanford and Son

The Girl With Something Extra

Needles & Pins

The Brian Keith Show

The Dean Martin Show

 

Sanford and Son was the night’s top-rated series at #3, but its strong lead-in audience couldn’t save The Girl With Something Extra, about a young married couple (John Davidson and Sally Field) whose relationship is complicated by a wife with ESP. Field’s subsequent stardom would revive this short-lived series in syndication for decades. I enjoyed it for what it was, a half-hour spent with effortlessly likable leads, ably supported by a quirky supporting cast: Jack (“Conjunction Junction”) Sheldon, Zohra Lampert and Teri Garr. 

 

 


Set in a clothing manufacturer warehouse in New York’s Garment District, Needles & Pins was gone after just ten episodes. Having never watched it I can’t presume to know why it failed, but perhaps it was  because the cast was comprised of veteran second bananas – Norman Fell, Louis Nye, and Bernie Kopell, who I am now convinced must have appeared in every television show ever made. There’s an extended clip on YouTube that suggests there may have been something there with a few modest tweaks. 

 


 

I covered The Brian Keith Show in a previous piece under its original title of The Little People. And this would be the final year for The Dean Martin Show after nine successful seasons. Martin would remain prominent on NBC as the host of a series of now-legendary roasts, in which comics like Foster Brooks, Don Rickles and Red Buttons would skewer the guest of honor with material that would now get them canceled in a heartbeat. 

 


 

CBS

Calucci’s Department

Roll Out

CBS Friday Night Movie

 

Any television show that gets “worst series ever” notices is one I’m automatically curious to see. It’s hard to tell if Calucci’s Department earned that status from the few clips available online, but it certainly doesn’t look like something anyone would miss.

 

From what I’ve read and the footage I’ve watched, it’s set at a New York City unemployment office, where the beleaguered staff deal with a different set of out-of-work visitors every week.

 

Top-billed as the office supervisor was James Coco, one of those actors who never found the kind of signature role that, when viewers saw him in other projects, they could say “Oh, that’s the guy from…”  What I saw of the show reminded me of Lotsa Luck, another failed 1973 series where the comedy emerged mainly from how miserable everyone felt about their lives. 

 

 

It was followed by an equally short-lived series in Roll Out, a military sitcom created by MASH producers Larry Gelbart and Gene Reynolds. Set in France during World War II, the stories revolved around the lives and adventures of an Army transportation unit.  The mostly African-American cast was led by Stu Gilliam, Hilly Hicks and Mel Stewart. The comedy was much broader than what viewers enjoyed in MASH, even in its early seasons, but was rarely actually funny despite the amped-up laugh track responses. It was canceled midseason, and replaced by another sitcom with an African-American cast – Good Times. That one was a keeper.

 

Shows Missed:

The Don Knotts Show (1970)

San Francisco International Airport (1970)

Nancy (1970)

The Headmaster (1970)

The Man and the City (1971)

The Chicago Teddy Bears (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)

Love Story (1973)

Needles & Pins (1973)

Calucci’s Department (1973)

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

How Classic Television Still Inspires People – Every Day

 

As I’ve acknowledged before, outside of news and sports I pay very little attention to the current TV landscape. But every so often a current series references the classic TV era in a way that merits notice.

 

Such a moment happened last week when there was a Facts of Life cast reunion on The Drew Barrymore Show. That alone would not be worth mentioning here, were it not for how Drew paid homage to guests Lisa Whelchel, Nancy McKeon and Mindy Cohn. She didn’t just share fond memories of watching the show – she described how much Blair, Jo and Natalie meant to her, and how they helped to shape her own character. 

 

 

Jo, she said, “showed that girls could be strong and tough, and (she) helped take a lot of intimidation away for females." Blair taught her about empathy: "Because you know how popular, beautiful people can scare you sometimes? Blair was like, 'It's not about the outside, it's about the human inside.'” Natalie became a “moral compass” and “a voice of reason.”

 

She also commented on the impact the series had on young people who didn’t come from a traditional two-parent household, as it depicted four young women growing up with a beloved teacher in a de facto parent role: “You gave me a blueprint that made my life feel better to me in every sense of the word."

 

They were nice sentiments, and if she felt that way you can be sure other young viewers did as well. We don’t know who they are because they don’t have their own talk shows. But this was a disclosure that summarizes why the shows of the past still maintain such an affectionate hold over us. I think it’s something that can’t be celebrated often enough, so let’s talk about it again.

 

“If you want to send a message, call Western Union.”

 

That quote has been attributed in various forms to Humphrey Bogart, Bob Hope and movie producer Sam Goldwyn, all titans of American pop culture from a bygone era. It refers to material that overtly attempts to sway public opinion (or impose that of the writer) on an audience – and why that approach never prospered back then. They didn’t care about sending messages – they wanted stories and characters that would interest the largest possible audience, and put some profits in the studio’s account.

 

There were certainly “message” episodes in the classic TV era as well. The Facts of Life had several of them, often affectionately mocked by fans as another “very special episode.” Perhaps they did some good, but I’ve always thought that the most blatant messages are rarely the most persuasive. 

 

 

That is some comfort in this current and very different era of pop culture, one that engages in what essayist Robert Royal described as “wholesale dismissals of the past as irretrievably evil.” When the message is the fulcrum from which every aspect of the project derives, and is wielded like a blunt force instrument, it risks preaching only to the already converted.

 

Goldwyn, Hope and Bogie knew that was not a recipe for success. For proof one need only observe how one entertainment brand, once revered and synonymous with the best in family entertainment, switched from fantasy to advocacy, and hasn’t had a hit in years.  

 

But Drew Barrymore's reflections on The Facts of Life illustrates how messages are still being sent by every movie and every episode of every television show. They’re not the colorful tasty frosting on top of the cake, the first thing everyone notices. Instead they’re baked deep inside, awakening our senses to their profundity only after several bites.

 

It was these kinds of messages that inspired countless young men and women to go to law school because of Perry Mason. In Star Trek that set youngsters on paths to become doctors and scientists, and allowed Mae Jemison to believe she could one day reach the stars herself. 

 

 

It’s the wholesome family shows, so often ridiculed now, that nudged stressed fathers and mothers into being better parents, and that helped sensitive teenagers realize that if the boy or girl you loved didn’t love you back, it wasn’t the end of the world.

 

Such implications were so intrinsic in who the characters of these shows were and how they lived, that they didn’t have to be acknowledged to be effective. They were just…there. And that is not something that should be cavalierly dismissed. What if these shows never existed? Would these people still have entered new professions or listened to their better angels without that inspiration, or would they have gone in another direction that may not have resulted in a happier life?

 



Shows from the Comfort TV era no longer air in prime time on networks that count their viewership in the tens of millions, but mercifully they haven’t disappeared from the pop culture landscape. They play daily on retro channels like MeTV and on demand from streaming services. Full episodes can be watched on YouTube and other online sources, which may result in a DVD purchase.

 

The world has changed, but their messages have not, and they are still going out. They’re not as loud or prominent as they used to be, and they may sometimes get lost amidst a larger wave of dubious counter-signals. But like that still, small voice that Elijah heard in the Book of Kings, they can still reach those with ears to listen. Through all the noise and the nonsense. And thank heaven for that.

Thursday, February 15, 2024

Can Professional Wrestling Be Comfort TV?

 

If TV Land were a real place, professional wrestling would be located in one of the sketchier parts of town.

 

It’s a violent place full of tough men and women striving for gold and prepared to beat up anyone who gets in their way. It’s a neighborhood populated by masked men from parts unknown, who at any moment might hit you from behind with a steel chair. It’s home to some heroes as well, but don’t get too attached to them, as they can turn on you when you least expect it. 

 

 

If you’re wondering why wrestling even claims any real estate in this otherwise wholesome place, then you don’t know much about the history of television. In the 1950s, the first decade when TV evolved into a major entertainment medium, the wrestling shows that aired on all four networks (the fourth was Dumont back then) were as popular as Lucy and Howdy Doody and Milton Berle. Guys like Dick the Bruiser, Gorgeous George and Killer Kowalski were household names, and fans of all ages would gather around the set to watch the action from Chicago’s Marigold Arena, the Grand Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, and the Chase Park Plaza Hotel in St. Louis. 

 

 

Professional wrestling is at the moment getting renewed mainstream media attention, but for all the wrong reasons. A 60-page civil lawsuit was filed against World Wrestling Entertainment CEO Vince McMahon, arguably the most significant figure in the business over the last 50 years, and the allegations against him levied by one young woman are as unsavory as one can imagine. 

 

 

So this is probably not the best time to devote a blog to this subject, but even its more ardent fans surely recognize that there has always been a seedy underside to the whole enterprise. Its entire existence is based on a lie – that you are watching a real match between two opponents, and not a choreographed performance with a pre-determined outcome. Its roots lay in the carny circuit, where conning the suckers out of their cash is the name of the game. Championship belts are not awarded to the best wrestlers, but to those who could pack the biggest houses and sell the most merchandise. At the end of the day, it’s all about money.

 

But when it worked, they made you believe it.  By the time I was in my 20s and still a weekly viewer of the Monday night wars between the World Wrestling Federation and World Championship Wrestling, I was no longer the mark (slang for a gullible fan) I was when Hulk Hogan had finally met his match in The Undertaker. I knew it was just a show, and the wrestlers were “calling” their matches with whispered words and hand signals that were imperceptible to all but the smartest fans.

 

Still, when a feud was built property over weeks or months, culminating in a pay-per-view match in front of 60,000 fans, we suspended our disbelief, just as we did when George Reeves flew as Superman, and Samantha Stevens redecorated her living room with a twitch of her nose.

 

One reason it once seemed so convincing is the lack of distinction between actor and role that is obvious on any other scripted series. Many wrestlers incorporated details from their own lives into their characters; others created entirely different altar-egos. No one did it better than Ric Flair, who came from humble beginnings but fashioned the persona of an arrogant self-aggrandizer who flaunted his success and the lifestyle that came with it. Flair had the perfect combination of skill in the ring and skill on the microphone – the promos he cut are legendary among fans. 

 


 

Did most of those fans realize they were just watching a show, or did they really buy into it? Ask the heels – the bad guys who did everything they could to get people angry enough to buy a ticket to watch them lose. Some were stabbed on the way to the ring; others found their tires slashed when they left the arena.

 

“Kayfabe” is the term and the objective that defined professional wrestling from its first TV heyday up until about the turn of this last century. It means to preserve the illusion that the fights and feuds were real. It’s pretty much disappeared now – the artifice was impossible to maintain in the Internet era. Those of us who were once drawn to the characters and the stories miss that time when we were as excited about Hulk Hogan pinning Sergeant Slaughter as we were when our favorite baseball team won the pennant.

 

I have so many happy memories of those times, just as I do of the other classic TV shows celebrated in this blog. I cheered for Hogan like any mark, but my first favorite wrestler was Rowdy Roddy Piper, Hogan’s nemesis in the first Wrestlemania event in 1985. The intensity in his promos could make you seriously doubt his sanity. 

 


 

Beneath the spectacle and the fantasy, just as with any other successful series, wrestling is a business, one that demands much of its stars.  The travel, the nightly wear and tear of 300 matches a year, the schedule that demands you perform despite ruptured tendons and fractured bones – no wonder far too many wrestlers die young, and those that reach retirement age do so with broken bodies and substance abuse issues.

 

But they did it willingly because, for reasons most of us will never understand, they loved what they did. It won out over family and relationships and personal safety. And still after all of the tragedies and scandals, there is no shortage of young men and women who are paying their dues right now hoping to become the next superstar.

 

That is why every time you think wrestling has run its course, someone new emerges to revive the entire business. In the 1990s, just as I began to lose interest, along came the Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin, and just like that I reverted to the mark I was at age 14, and couldn’t wait to see what they were going to do next. 

 

 

But even that is a long time ago now. I don’t watch the current stuff anymore, but I will still spend an evening watching old matches on YouTube. And as much as I can still be impressed by the spectacle of the huge main events, I appreciate just as much the clips from the old territory days, where there were maybe 500 people in attendance, and some of the hopefuls on the lower part of the card probably earned $20 for getting tossed around by one of that territory’s stars.

 

Is there something almost, I don’t know, noble in that? Something admirable about that dedication to this odd mix of sports and theater, and how much it meant to the fans that went on that ride with them? I think so – but don’t ask me to get more analytical than that.

 

Instead, let me list three of the best matches I’ve ever seen. If you’re among the uninitiated, maybe they’ll make you a fan as well.

 

1. Macho Man Randy Savage vs. Ricky “the Dragon” Steamboat

Wrestlemania III (1987)

 

The main event was Hulk Hogan vs. Andre the Giant, in front of 90,000 fans at Detroit’s Pontiac Silverdome. This was the match that happened right before the much-publicized headliner, and it stole the show. 

 


Every spot in the match – every hold, every reversal, every fall, had been laid out and choreographed beforehand. The action was non-stop, with 19 two-counts in under 15 minutes, each one generating a huge crowd response. When Steamboat finally covered Savage for the pin, he heard Randy whisper, ‘We got ‘em, Dragon.” Yes, they did.

 

2. Shawn Michaels vs. Razor Ramon

Wrestlemania X (1994)

 

New York’s Madison Square Garden had been home to countless famous matches over the decades, but none perhaps as exciting as this one. It was a ladder match, meaning that the title belt was suspended above the ring, and an eight-foot ladder was placed outside. The first man to climb the ladder and retrieve the belt would win. For nearly 20 minutes, Shawn and Razor used that ladder in ways that Bob Vila could never have imagined. 

 


 

3. The Undertaker vs. Mankind

King of the Ring (1998)

 

Outside of the insane hardcore matches from Japan, which incorporated barbed wire and C-4 explosives into the clashes, this “Hell in the Cell” match from The Igloo in Pittsburgh is likely the most brutal contest ever staged. The ring was covered by a 15-foot steel cage, but much of the action took place on the top of the structure, culminating in…well, see for yourself. 

 




 

Perhaps the most amazing thing about that spot was not that it was even attempted, but that the match continued after it happened, with more carnage to follow.

Thursday, February 8, 2024

My Journey Through 1970s TV; Thursday Nights, 1973

 

Here we go again – another look at one evening’s prime-time schedule from my favorite decade of television. The objective, beyond sharing memories about some great shows, is to discover whether there are any I missed then and still have not had a chance to enjoy.

 

Thursday, 1973

 

ABC

Toma

Kung Fu

The Streets of San Francisco

 

ABC gives us the most interesting lineup for this night, featuring two new shows – one was a hit, the other would likely have become one if its star had not quit after the first season.

 

Toma was based on the career of David Toma, a real New Jersey police detective (and relentless self-promoter), who was among the founders of that generation of cops to be celebrated on television for, as the marketing pitch goes, playing by their own rules.


Tony Musante played Toma, supported by Simon Oakland as his frequently exasperated boss, and the always-intriguing Susan Strasberg as his loving wife. Stories typically had Toma donning disguises and accents to infiltrate illegal activity and take down the bad guys. 

 

 

If you search “Toma” on YouTube you’ll find more videos of the real Toma than the series. But I do recall the show and watched the one episode available to refresh my memory. Tony Musante stuck to his vow to shoot only one season, so the series was retooled and returned with Robert Blake as Baretta. The roots of the Toma character were still recognizable after the change, but where Toma had a wife and kids, all Baretta had was a cockatoo named Fred.

 

While Kung Fu debuted strong in the top 30 and enjoyed a successful three-season run, there will always be a what-might-have-been question over how the series would have fared if it had starred Bruce Lee instead of David Carradine. Accounts vary over how involved Lee was in the concept and his casting status – and whether the studio rejected him because they didn’t think an Asian lead could carry a series. 

 

 

It still found in audience, though the action scenes were somnambulant compared to the speed and brutality of those in Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon, or even in the low-budget Shaw Brothers films, imported from Hong Kong and filling the urban grindhouses.

 

CBS

The Waltons

The CBS Thursday Night Movie

 

In its second season The Waltons leaped to #2 in the ratings, and stars Michael Learned and Richard Thomas both deservedly won Emmys. 

 

 

NBC

The Flip Wilson Show

Ironside

NBC Follies

 

This was the final season for Flip, whose variety show ranked among television’s most popular but like most series built around one star, couldn’t sustain that success beyond a handful of seasons. The track record for such shows makes Carol Burnett’s 11-season run even more impressive.

 

 

Ironside still had some legs (I know, poor choice of words), as Raymond Burr’s wheelchair-bound inspector rolled into its seventh season, and would return for one more before cancelation. One of the more intriguing episodes from that year was “Riddle at 24,000 Feet” a pilot for a proposed series that would have starred Desi Arnaz as a crime-solving doctor.

 


You can read more about that episode in this It’s About TV blog.

 

It was 13 episodes and out for NBC Follies, a series I presumed was so obscure I almost added it to the missed shows list before even trying to find an episode. 

 


But surprisingly, one did exist on YouTube – the first one as it happens, starring Sammy Davis Jr., Jerry Lewis, Diahann Carroll, Mickey Rooney, the Smothers Brothers, and a whole gaggle of dancers and showgirls. 

 


 

It was part Vegas, part vaudeville, part ‘60s old-school variety show, filmed before a live audience. It seemed retro for 1973 and close to Paleolithic now, but part of me wishes there was still a place on television for shows like this – and enough multitalented celebrities to give 110% on stage to help us forget our troubles for a while.

 


 

 

Shows Missed:

The Don Knotts Show (1970)

San Francisco International Airport (1970)

Nancy (1970)

The Headmaster (1970)

The Man and the City (1971)

The Chicago Teddy Bears (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)

Love Story (1973)

Monday, January 29, 2024

Rainy Day TV

 

As I’ve written here before, winter has its pleasures up to around Christmas, but in January it languishes into a long and dreary slog toward spring. It’s when we all spend more time indoors, which is why I still regard settling in for an evening of classic TV as more of a winter pursuit.

 

The winters are milder where I live in Southern Nevada, but the temperature still drops and the days are still shorter, and if we’re going to get lots of rain, this is when we get it. And for the last few days that’s about all we’ve had.

 

Do you have some go-to shows to lift your spirits when it is gloomy outside? I do – it’s a list that gets updated from time to time but I know instinctively which shows to select, and which are best avoided until the weather picks up. 

 


I’m sure a lot of classic TV fans do this – Ranker even compiled a list of the Best Rainy Day Shows to Watch. With a couple of exceptions I think it’s a lousy list – but people cope with inclement weather in different ways. Perhaps for some The Witcher and Disenchantment hit the spot. But if your tastes run more toward the classics (and if you’re here I assume they do) you may prefer these shows instead. I also find them equally therapeutic when, to paraphrase Buddy Holly, the sun may be shining but it’s raining in your heart.

 

The Lucy Show

Lucy is for many of us a personification of the era of television that we love. She was a near constant presence on TV from the 1950s through the early 1970s, on three different sitcoms that all ran forever in syndication, which is where I got to know them on sick days from school and summer mornings and eventually on Nick at Nite. 

 

 

I Love Lucy needs no explanation of its place in the medium’s history, but when all you see are shades of gray outside, I want color from my comfort TV, which is why The Lucy Show is my first choice. Even though the early black-and-white episodes with Vivian Vance are the best, the later seasons also have their moments given the array of iconic guest stars that made their way into Mr. Mooney’s office. Every time I see that generation of performers – Jack Benny, Dean Martin, Danny Kaye, Milton Berle, Danny Thomas – I am thankful for so many hours of recorded material from an era that is gone, but also wistful in the knowledge that we will never see its like again. 

 

 

Columbo

I enjoy Columbo for the same reason I enjoy shows like Mission: Impossible and Veronica Mars: It celebrates the triumph of the intelligent over the corrupt. I like watching smart people at work. I feel a kinship with them. Maybe no one has ever considered me a genius, but I’m smart enough to recognize stupid when I see it, and these days that puts me ahead of numerous elected officials.

 

With Columbo there is always that one moment when he figures it out – sometimes it’s so subtle in the way Peter Falk plays it, but viewers always know when he switches from putting the pieces together to seeing the whole puzzle. Then it’s just a matter of time before he steers his prime suspect into a confession. 

 

 

The Courtship of Eddie’s Father

Every time I return to this show I am struck once again by how quiet it is. Tom Corbett shares his fatherly wisdom with young Eddie in the most soothing of tones, and Mrs. Livingston speaks so softly you almost need closed captioning to pick up every word. Most of the stories are likewise gentle and reassuring. 

 


With this show, though, you really need to know your episodes, as the series often brought in loud, obnoxious guest characters to play up the contrast with the serene Corbett home. Avoid these entries and stick with those that focus on the main cast.

 

The Bob Newhart Show

If you feel like going stir crazy after too many rainy days inside, visiting a psychologist may be just what you need. Dr. Bob Hartley can always be relied upon for direction and advice, along with a few well-worn clichés. 

 

 

This is one of those shows that, to me, seems to get better every year. That’s not true of every show in my collection, though I have yet to tire of watching any of them. But outside of Howard becoming a little more ridiculous with each passing season, the ensemble on this series is one of the most appealing ever assembled for television. From the loving marriage of Bob and Emily to the group of recurring patients at Dr. Hartley’s office, to the interactions with Carol and Jerry, it all just seems to work. And on a rainy day this is an ideal group of folks to help you pass the time.

 

The Avengers

England is synonymous with rain, But John Steed and Emma Peel remind us that it’s still possible to have fun – and save the world occasionally – if the weather doesn’t cooperate, not to mention how it’s always wise to keep an umbrella handy. 

 


 


Your turn – what are your favorite rainy day shows, and why?

 

Thursday, January 18, 2024

My 50 Favorite Classic TV Characters: Lindsay Wagner as Jaime Sommers

 

In 1977, Lindsay Wagner received the Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Dramatic Role, causing many eyebrows to be raised – especially among her fellow nominees. Family star Sada Thompson in particular did not hide her umbrage over the selection.

 

 

Did Wagner deserve to win? How should one answer that? Emmy categories will always be apples-to-oranges comparisons, even within the same genre.

 

On Family, Thompson’s Kate Lawrence coped with a cancer scare, an ailing parent, a daughter with a broken marriage and a son who dropped out of high school – all rich dramatic material, which she navigated brilliantly.

 

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the same network, Jaime was chasing Bigfoot, going undercover as a lady wrestler, and fighting Fembots. 

 


What’s worse, the Bionic Woman episode that won her the Emmy (“Deadly Ringer”) revived the hackneyed soap opera trope of an evil twin.

 

So if we were assessing based only on IMDB plot synopses, you can perhaps understand Thompson’s resentment. Thankfully, she would take home the Emmy in the same category the following year.

 

Personally, I’m fine with Wagner’s win. Television shows with a sci-fi or fantasy element are typically overlooked completely in the major award categories. This was the first time an actress won for a series in this genre, and would be the last time until Gillian Anderson’s win for The X-Files in 1997.

 

And if you watched and enjoyed The Bionic Woman, as I did, you know this was not a series that leaned on Jaime’s superhuman abilities to tell good stories. That was fine for Wonder Woman over on CBS – viewers (especially males) counted the minutes until Lynda Carter twirled into a costume that was super in more ways than one. But she was Diana Prince for more than half of most episodes, and let’s face it – Diana was kind of boring.

 

Not so Jaime Sommers. She was a captivating character and a woman of accomplishment even before the skydiving accident that changed her life. Her status as a top-ranked professional tennis player allowed her to travel the world, though it left little time for romance with Col. Steve Austin. But after the accident it was Austin who persuaded the Office of Scientific Intelligence (OSI) to give her the same bionic makeover that saved his life.

 

The procedure gave Jaime two bionic legs that allowed her to run 100 miles per hour and jump hundreds of feet. Her bionic right arm had super-strength, and her right ear could pick up sounds at great distances – but only, apparently, if she first moved her hair out of the way. 

 

 

Seeking some return on its investment, the OSI sends Jaime on a mission, hoping perhaps her special abilities would compensate for her lack of espionage training. She does well – until her bionics began to fail. Surgery is attempted to repair the damage but it’s too late – Jaime dies.

 

Wait, what? That was the original plan, until audience response demanded a different outcome. When viewers spoke the networks listened, and in a subsequent episode of The Six Million Dollar Man, it was revealed that Jaime was kept alive in suspended animation until her condition could be stabilized.

 

Did she deserve the Emmy? Imagine creating a character that was so quickly embraced by millions of fans that they refused to let her die? Does that not speak to something in Lindsay Wagner’s talent and charisma? That she could put an audience on her side to the extent that they demanded to see her again and let ABC know it? 

 

 

That’s another difference between the classic TV era and whatever we’ve got now. Back then there wasn’t as big a disparity between what Emmy voters liked and viewers at home supported. Besides Wagner and Sada Thompson, other nominees in her category included Angie Dickinson in Police Woman and Kate Jackson in Charlie’s Angels. If their shows were so popular, surely they had to be doing something right, and that deserved to be recognized by those that honor television excellence.

 

Contrast that situation with the Emmys just a few days ago, in which the Best Actress – Drama winner appears on a series watched by about 500,000 people, or 0.15% of the US population.

 

So, yes, Lindsay Wagner deserved her Emmy Award. Because of the many beguiling, sympathetic and endearing qualities she brought to Jaime Sommers, she rescued the character from death and then headlined her own series for three seasons – two on ABC, one on NBC (even her original network couldn’t shut her down without a fight). The show was a global hit, and for a time even became the top-rated series in the United Kingdom.

 

Most episodes range from good to excellent, including several mentioned on this blog before: “Kill Oscar” was an epic three-part story that introduced the Fembots and their sinister creator, played by John Houseman; “Doomsday is Tomorrow, covered in detail in my “Unshakeables” series; “A Thing of the Past,” from early in the first season that sets the tone for much that follows. This was never an action show centered on Jaime’s unique abilities, but a character study of a kind, compassionate school teacher who moonlights as a government agent. 

 

 

“The Jailing of Jaime” spotlights her resourcefulness, as well as her affectionate father-daughter-like relationship with Oscar Goldman, wonderfully played by Richard Anderson. And “Sister Jaime,” in which she goes undercover in a convent, is delightful from start to finish.

 

A few were not as good – generally any episode with a heavy focus on kids (“Beyond the Call”) or Indians (“Canyon of Death,” “The Night Demon”) ranked lower with me, but even here Lindsay Wagner maintained her capability to hold your attention, not with histrionics or heroics but with a kind of quiet gentleness and class that has almost disappeared from contemporary television.

 

There was one other issue that had to be addressed before spinning off The Bionic Woman – a side effect of Jaime’s life-saving surgery was partial amnesia that erased her memories of being in love with Steve Austin. It was another dumb soap opera cliché, but a necessary one to free up Jaime for romances on her own series.

 

She seemed to have plenty of those, though given Wagner's chemistry with costars like Ed Nelson in “Assault on the Princess” and George Maharis in “Jaime’s Shield” it would be easy to see how any of these flings and flirtations might evolve into something more permanent.  She even coaxed more than one expression out of Evel Knievel in “Motorcycle Boogie.” 

 

 

 

She did, of course, wind up with Steve Austin, but the marriage would not take place until 1994, in the TV movie Bionic Ever After.

 

 

I’ll end this piece with praise for the show’s final episode, which ventured into some darker, uncharted territory. “On the Run” begins when Jaime rescues a little girl, who recoils from her when the wiring in her bionic arm is exposed. Later, the girl refers to Jaime as “the robot lady.” Already burned out from too many missions, and questioning her own humanity, she resigns from the OSI. Easier said than done, when Oscar’s higher-ups worry that her bionics and her knowledge of OSI missions could make her a security threat. Like Number 6 in The Prisoner, their plan is to put her into a community where she can live a “normal” life, as long as she doesn’t stray too far outside the security fence. 

 

 

The story wraps a little too neatly, perhaps necessitating a return to the status quo in case the series returned for another season, but before that “On the Run” asked some challenging questions about what makes a person a person, and whether a manufactured arm, ear and two legs qualifies a woman as government property. It also pulls powerful performances from Wagner and Richard Anderson. If the series had to end, it did with remarkable grace – just like its leading lady.