Bob Newhart

 

As you may have guessed by now I watch a lot of old TV shows. Occasionally but not often, the joy in these never-ending encore presentations is slightly tempered by the realization that almost all of the talented people responsible for their success, both in front of and behind the cameras, are no longer with us. Which only makes us treasure even more those still around.

 

Last week we lost one of the greats. Bob Newhart starred in two successful situation comedies, in which he basically played himself, or at least the persona he had developed earlier through stand-up routines, sketches on variety series like The Dean Martin Show, and in a Grammy-winning comedy album: a mild-mannered fellow reacting to strange and silly circumstances. 

 

 

Said reactions were dry and subtle, rarely if ever loud and confrontational. That’s why I liked him so much, I think. I’ve never been someone drawn to loud people. The guy shouting into his cell phone so his is the only voice you hear, even in a crowded restaurant? That’s the guy I can’t get away from fast enough. I prefer quiet people. They tend to be smarter, more thoughtful, and more considerate of others. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have a sense of humor: Bob Newhart offers compelling evidence to support that hypothesis.

 

We are currently confronted with no shortage of strange and silly circumstances – lately they seem to be coming at us from all sides – and my reaction to them tends to be much like Bob’s – somewhat bemused, somewhat befuddled, but we take them and the world as it comes, hoping that sanity will win out in the long run.

 

Some obits described Newhart as a “deadpan master of sitcoms.” But he was not deadpan. Steven Wright is deadpan. Buster Keaton was deadpan. Bob Newhart’s reactions were clearly written on his face even before he spoke, in that slight stammer utilized for maximum comic effect. A blank expression would not have made Newhart’s famous phone routines so brilliant. You never heard the voice on the line – his reactions provided all the insight into the conversation that the audience needed. 

 

 

I know Newhart was a great show, but I will leave it to others to sing its praises. Same with his appearances in Elf and The Big Bang Theory. Here, I just want to reflect on The Bob Newhart Show (1972-1978).

 

I’ve said it before, here and elsewhere: the 1970s gave us many classic situation comedies, and all of them can still be enjoyed 50 years later, but the one that holds up the best, at least for me, is The Bob Newhart Show.

 

Like The Mary Tyler Moore Show, which aired prior to his series in a fondly remembered Saturday night line-up, it derived laughter both at home and at the workplace, and surrounded its top-billed star with sharper-tongued and lovably eccentric characters.

 

As Emily, the sassy, sexy Suzanne Pleshette was the perfect counter to Newhart’s more laid-back persona. 

 

I wasn’t as big a fan of Bill Daily as Howard Borden, who by the final season should have been institutionalized – or at least never trusted again with the navigator’s seat on a commercial flight. Yet he remained Bob’s best friend, and Bob always accepted him for what he was. There’s grace in that.

 

At work Bob could trade barbs with Peter Bonerz as the orthodontist down the hall, and Marcia Wallace as receptionist Carol Kester, but it was the patient group therapy sessions, and his one-on-one appointments with Mr. Carlin (Jack Riley) that were usually the highlights of every episode. And no other series mined more laughs from telephone calls or elevators than The Bob Newhart Show.  

The Christmas episodes were wonderful – annual holiday viewing in my house. And the Thanksgiving episode (“Over the River and Through the Woods”) is one of the ten best situation comedy episodes of all time. 

 

And long after the series had ended, it received an unforgettable encore in the final moment of the final episode of Newhart’s second series. That scene has now become as iconic as any moment in scripted television, a rare example of an inspired idea (by Newhart’s wife, Ginny) perfectly executed.

 

I’m glad Bob kept working into his 90s so new generations could see why he was so popular. I’m glad he got to watch his beloved Chicago Cubs win a World Series in 2016 – something many of his fellow fans (myself included) feared we’d never see. 

 

 

Most of all, I’m glad I have all 142 episodes of The Bob Newhart Show sitting on my shelf, waiting to remind me of my own Chicago roots, to pick me up when I’m feeling down, and to help me realize that, compared to Bob’s regular patients, I’m nowhere near as nuts as I sometimes think.

 

Bye Bob – and thanks for all the laughter. We’ve never needed it more.