There Goes the Neighborhood

 

It’s not a real street. You won’t find it indexed on Google Maps, or on any postal carrier’s route.

 

The houses too aren’t real. They look charming from the outside, with their freshly mowed lawns and white picket fences, but if you opened the front door on any of them, you’d be stepping into an empty shell – no furniture, no carpet, no appliances. Houses, not homes – no one ever really lived in any of them.

 

But for the first generations of Americans that came of age with television, this was a street as familiar as the one where they grew up. It was a place they visited regularly for years, even decades, often several times a week. It was warm, and welcoming, and special. 

 

It was the place where Bud Anderson worked on his jalopy, while his father offered advice on life that was sometimes heeded, sometimes not. 

 

 

It was where the Partridge Family rehearsed for their next club date.

 

It was where Dennis the Menace gave Mr. Wilson one headache after another.

 

It’s where Major Nelson returned home, wondering what chaos Jeannie was about to conjure when he stepped inside. 

 

 

It’s where Mary Stone’s boyfriends paused on the front porch after a date, hoping for a kiss goodnight.

 

It’s where Gidget grabbed her surfboard before heading to the beach.

 

It’s where Mrs. Kravitz spotted so many strange goings-on at the Stephens residence, across the street at Morning Glory Circle. 

 

 

All of those things happened there. Maybe the moments were no more real than the houses themselves, but they still exist in our collective memories, in a place that blended fantasy and reality. If classic television – if Comfort TV – had a dwelling place, this street was it.

 

And soon it will be gone. This week, the process of tearing down the homes began.

 

On the Warner Bros. Ranch in Burbank, it was designated as Blondie St., after a series of popular films that were filmed there. It was never part of the studio’s tours, so most of us never had the chance to have their pictures taken in front of these homes or just stroll down the sidewalk and soak in the nostalgic rush. A few lucky fans with a connection managed to get there – I know quite a few of them. I was not as fortunate. I had an invitation extended to me back in 2014, but before I could schedule a visit the WB employee who contacted me was laid off, and no one else filled her position.

 

Why is this happening? If we are to believe the few sources even bothering to report on this, it’s about money. The land where these structures sit can be repurposed for soundstages that will contribute more to the studio’s bottom line.

 

That is probably the motivation. I have no reason to think otherwise. But given so many other events that have happened around the nation over the past ten years or so, I can’t not see this as something else as well – the destruction of what these places represent.

 

What values were promoted by the shows set in these homes? What types of families lived there? What did they look like, and how did they live? What lessons did their kids learn at school? Did they understand the difference between right and wrong? Between men and women? Were they patriotic? Were they religious? Did they value work? Did they live in a place with dances, and socials, local ball leagues, community singing, and parades? 

 

 

If you grew up with these shows as I did, and if you still watch them as I do, you know the answer. And I doubt that those responsible for producing the television shows now emerging from that studio will give a second thought to eradicating any reminders of that time.

 

I wrote this back in 2014:

 

There’s a reason we bestow landmark status on exceptional places. It elevates them above mere property controlled by a corporation, and protects them against the whims of the bureaucrat, the robber baron and the unenlightened. Blondie Street is a place to walk in the footsteps of television’s most beloved characters. It has the ability to reconnect adults with the blissful days of their childhoods.

 

Perhaps that’s not sufficient for the kind of safekeeping afforded to the Ryman Auditorium or the Old North Church. But if the home of Millard Fillmore can make the cut, so can the home of Samantha Stephens. 

 

That’s what I thought then. I still think so now. But now it’s too late, or soon will be. Empty facades on a sham street, some will say – who will miss them?

 

I will. Very much.

 

 

The Unshakeables: The Last Temptation of Darrin Stevens

 

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

 

What if you could have anything you wanted? Any house, any mate, any car; would it make you happy? Would it satisfy every desire? Would you still be the same person after all those wishes were fulfilled?

 

The premise of Bewitched is simple, but one with layers of complexity beneath the surface: young advertising executive Darrin Stevens marries a witch, but is adamant she live as a typical American housewife – or, as he puts it, “No hocus pocus.” He views her powers as something unnatural, and refuses to accept the benefits they could provide to his career and his lifestyle. He appreciates the value in work, and of struggle when it results in rewards that have been fairly earned. But those beliefs are tested in “A is For Aardvark,” the 17^th episode of the series’ first season.

 

After spraining his ankle, Darrin recuperates in the master bedroom, and runs poor Sam ragged asking for food, magazines and other creature comforts. 

 

After 27 trips up and down the stairs, Samantha suggests putting a spell on their house so it will respond to his requests. At first he protests (“I don’t want any part of that nonsense”) but after acknowledging the strain he had placed on his wife, he reluctantly agrees.

 

Endora, never far away, recognizes what is about to happen – “You’ve given him a taste of power,” she tells her daughter. “It’s Adam and the apple all over again.” 

 

Sure enough, Darrin quickly begins to not only use but to abuse his new abilities. Instead of a holding a book he has it float in front of him. He could light his own cigarette but has the house do it instead. 

 

 

And that triggers an epiphany – one that upends his entire worldview – why shouldn’t he take advantage of having anything he wants just a nose-twitch away? He tells Sam to use her powers however and wherever she wishes. He quits his job. He calls a realtor to sell their home so they can travel and live the good life from now on. “Well, why not, Sam?” he asks.

 

Then a package arrives – something Darrin had ordered before his world changed. A dozen roses and a simple wristwatch, anniversary gifts for his wife. He seems embarrassed now by the banality of the gesture, but Sam is moved to tears, and insists she loves them more than any fur coat or palatial estate she could conjure up on request. 

 

 

That begins to awaken Darrin’s better angels, as he perceives the pitfalls of the life he was about to embrace. And then, in the episode’s most remarkable moment, he acknowledges his own weakness. Having succumbed to temptation once, he honestly cannot assure Sam that he’ll be able to resist a second time. So he asks her to twitch their lives back to before she hexed the house, so he would have no memory of what that power feels like. In the final scene Darrin is back in bed, ringing a bell to let Sam know he needs something. And this time she happily climbs the stairs to respond.

 

I have many questions. Why was Darrin never tempted by what Samantha’s witchcraft could provide, but instantly ready to abandon his principles as soon as he tasted a fragment of that power? And was he right or wrong when he confessed it was ego that propelled his edict that Samantha forsake her magic?

 

But the one that resonates most in this story is the one I already asked – what if you could have anything you wanted? As with so many of the moral and ethical quandaries posed by classic television, it is as relevant today as it was 60 years ago.

 

We all think that if we won the lottery and suddenly had $150 million in the bank, the clout that money brings would not change us. Heck, we’d probably still drive the car we have now and keep our Timex watch, because it works as well as a Rolex. Instead, we’d immediately start building affordable housing in low-income communities, and putting underprivileged kids through college.

 

Some billionaires actually do that. But most do not.

 

We are surrounded by examples of what happens when the world moves within the grasp of those who once lived paycheck to paycheck. It’s the megachurch pastors who fly private jets to arenas and then preach how “a man's life consisteth  not in the abundance  of the things which he possesseth.” It’s the lottery winners that die penniless. It’s the leaders of organizations that guilt gullible corporations into sending them millions to make some lives matter more than they apparently do now, and then buy mansions for themselves instead.

 

What would have happened had Darrin not come to his senses? Could he have ended up like Rocky Valentine, the career criminal in the Twilight Zone episode “A Nice Place to Visit?” Shot and killed after robbing a pawnshop, Rocky awakens in a world where he can have it all, but can’t figure out how he earned his way into this heaven of booze, casinos and showgirls. He didn’t, of course, because he wasn’t in heaven at all.

 

“A scared and angry little man who never got a break. Now he has everything he’s ever wanted. And he’s going to have to live with it for eternity…in the Twilight Zone.”

 

My friend and fellow classic TV blogger Mitchell Hadley has been posting a series of pieces called “Descent Into Hell,” in which he selects classic TV episodes that showed where our culture could be headed (and now, arguably, has arrived). While it still fits comfortably into the lighter diversions of a typical Bewitched episode, ”A Is For Aardvark” is also a cautionary tale that illuminates one of the wider pathways to that same destination. 

 

 

The Unshakeables: Will Robinson Meets Santa Claus

 

I’ve mentioned before that “A Vision of Sugar Plums” from the first season of Bewitched is my favorite Christmas-themed episode of any classic television series. But I don’t think I’ve ever explained why. 

 

Start with the obvious – it’s a smart and imaginative script (as most of them were in the series’ early seasons) and it’s a welcome break from the formulas that were recycled through so many episodes over eight years (One of Sam’s eccentric relatives pops in, Endora zaps Darrin with a spell that will embarrass him at work, etc.).

 

Beyond that, it’s a show that endorses a very interesting position on the existence of Santa Claus. I suppose if your audience is already on board with witches, it’s not that big a leap to Santa being real as well. But they took such a bold and definitive stance on the question that, when I first watched it at an age when my own belief was fading, it restored my faith. Sometimes it still does.

 

The story opens with the Stephens’ and the Kravitzes both visiting an orphanage, where each couple will take a child home to spend the holidays (do people still do this?). Darrin has his doubts about Michael (Billy Mumy), who starts a fight with another boy who still believes in Santa. Michael has been through some rough times, not the sort likely to be specified in a sitcom from this era, but clearly they left their mark. Samantha convinces Darrin that this is exactly the kind of boy who could use a couple of days in a happy home.

 

It does not begin well. Michael is polite but sullen, seemingly uninterested in any of the Christmas festivities the Stephens’ have planned. And when Darrin dresses up as Santa, he finally snaps.

 

Darrin: “Don’t you want to see what Santa brought you, son?”

 

Michael: “I don’t care what you’ve brought me. And I’m not your son.” 

 

 

That’s the last straw for Darrin, but Samantha has another idea. She gently asks Michael why he’s so sure that Santa Claus is just a fantasy, and that’s when we learn that Michael once had a father who told him so and…the episode doesn’t reveal what happened to that clearly-departed dad, but we can only assume it wasn’t good.

 

“Suppose I were to tell you it really isn’t exactly that way?” Samantha says, to which Michael responds. “Prove it.” And that’s when Sam does something she rarely did over the course of 254 episodes: she reveals her identity as a witch – and then offers to fly Michael to the North Pole to visit the real Santa Claus. 

 

 

And then another surprise – Darrin, who lives in perpetual fear about anyone learning his wife’s secret, not only assents given the circumstances, he can’t resist taking the trip with them.

 

What follows I will leave for those who have never seen this classic to discover. But as one might expect Michael is transformed by the journey after learning the true meaning of Christmas.

 

But did it really happen? Sam later finds Darrin and Michael both asleep on the living room couch, and then Darrin tells her the crazy dream he had about visiting Santa. So that settles that…except for those slushy footprints on the carpet…

 

 

And as an extra bonus, “A Vision of Sugar Plums” also gives us one more “almost gotcha” with Gladys Kravitz, and a brief guest appearance by Bill Daily one year before I Dream of Jeannie.

 

Billy Mumy is believable, as he was in everything – one of those child actors with a maturity that never seems inauthentic to his age. It’s admirable how Darrin does what he thinks is the right thing by giving Michael a cheerful holiday of sugarplums and giftwrapped presents. But Samantha recognizes how that’s not going to suffice, and relates to Michael with a more direct approach, and in doing so restores his sense of hope and wonder.  Life had knocked him down a few times, but now we can see that he is going to be just fine.

 

This would not be Sam’s last meeting with Santa or her only visit to the North Pole. She flew grumpy old Charles Lane up there in another classic holiday episode called “Humbug Not to Be Spoken Here” (1967). But for me “A Vision of Sugar Plums” has just a little more magic than all of the other Christmas stories I watch every year. And it’s all the proof I need that Santa Claus is real – at least in TV Land. 

 

 

Abner Kravitz – Now I Get It

The older I get, the more I understand Abner Kravitz.

 

That this is happening is illustrative of how one’s perception toward a television show can change depending on one’s circumstances. Bewitched is the same series I watched when I was ten years old – the stories and the characters have not changed at all. But how I regard them now is very different.

 

As a kid I didn’t understand why Darrin was so unwilling to take advantage of the opportunity to live a more comfortable life, thanks to a wife who could twitch up anything he wished. Why was he so insistent on only providing his family with what could be afforded on his salary? But now I get it – having experienced the satisfaction of earning my living, and also observing how so many instant millionaires, from lottery winners to professional athletes, wind up broke or in jail.

 

We don’t get to know Abner as well from the 50-some episodes in which he appears, but one five-word quote from him provides an accurate portrait of his persona:

 

“Leave me alone. I’m retired.”

 

Really – is that too much to ask? That he be allowed to do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper, or lay on the couch and watch TV, or practice his flute, without constant distractions? I’m not retired yet but I know that when work is done and I have a few hours in the evening to myself, the last thing I want is to deal with ringing telephones or doorbells, or with nightly harangues about how I should get out and do something. 

 

 

In Abner’s case those criticisms come from his wife Gladys, who is on a never-ending quest to get him interested in something besides relaxation, whether that’s paying more attention to her or sharing her suspicions about the strange goings-on at the Stephens house across the street.

 

But even when Gladys claims to see Samantha sporting green dots on her face, he remains content to stay out of their business.

 

Gladys: “I bet she has some strange disease, and we could catch it. Abner, you wanna wake up with something strange?”

 

Abner: “I’ve been doing that for 20 years. Why change now?”

 

Yes, Abner is never short of put-downs for his wife. But they only surface when Gladys is doing something to disrupt his preferred quietude.

 

Gladys: “Abner, I whipped up a batch of my icebox cookies. Now I’m going over to give some to Mr. and Mrs. Stephens.”

 

Abner: “Why do you want to inflict suffering on such a nice couple?”

 

Her attempts to make him jealous were equally unsuccessful.

 

Gladys: “How would you feel if I invited one of my boyfriends for dinner?”

 

Abner: “Fine, just make sure he can play pinochle.”

 

Decades ago such exchanges seemed harsh (though still funny). But now I’ve lived nearly as long as Abner did at this stage of his life. We assume the character was in his 60s, as that’s how old George Tobias was when he began playing him. I empathize with his disinterest in wasted emotions like jealousy. I understand why he’d rather stay in than go out, because he went out day after day, year after year, for decades, probably to a job he didn’t much like, but it was sufficient to pay the monthly bills and put food on the table.

 

Now he wants to reap the rewards of that lifetime of work. So when Gladys comes to him with some crazy story about a chimpanzee running loose and asks, “I wonder where he belongs?”, I know he could have responded with something other than “He belongs in a zoo. And so do you.” But sometimes a man can only take so much. 

 

 

Sadly, there would be no respite for our retired hero. When Sandra Gould replaced Alice Pearce as Gladys, it was not a change that improved his lifestyle. Where Pearce was mostly just disappointed in Abner’s indolence, Gould came off as more aggressively nasty. With Pearce he gave as good as he got, but Could reduced him to “henpecked” status. For anyone under 20, that’s a word once in common parlance that is now among the ever-growing lexicon of forbidden terms.

 

For those who see Abner only as a curmudgeon and a hostile husband, the episode “Abner Kadabra” offers ample evidence that he really does love his wife. “I never thought I’d beg to eat her cooking,” he admits after a brief separation. He misses her when she’s not around. It’s just that he’d rather not have her questions and comments in his ear every minute of every day. 

 

 

Some of us don’t go in for conversations that only break silences. We can be in a room alone for hours and not get bored. We appreciate the people in our lives but also enjoy the moments when we’re away from them. That’s Abner – and yeah, that’s me, too.

 

I’m not sure what my future holds, but when we last saw Mr. Kravitz he was still trying to savor the hard-earned rewards of retirement, without the support of his spouse. No wonder, then, that in one memorable scene he reads the crossword puzzle clue “A five-letter word for the ultimate happiness, peace, and tranquility.”And after pondering for a moment, he answers, “Death.”

Classic TV Statues: Leave Them Alone

We are either in the midst of a cultural revolution or a crime wave, depending on your perspective. And while the damage to real people and property embodies the most regrettable aspect of these uprisings, there have been other victims as well.

Statues. Lots of statues.

I know – this isn’t the place for politics. “Save it for your book!” Okay – I will. And that book will be out next year. Details to follow in another month or two.

But as this is Comfort TV let’s talk about the statues that have been erected to honor performers and characters from many of television’s most memorable series. Thus far they have escaped the carnage. But who knows what tomorrow might bring? This could be a good time to plan a road trip to visit some of these monuments before they meet their fate.

Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden

New York City

Erected: 2000

This was the first statue commissioned by TV Land – hard to believe it’s already 20 years old. And what better place to honor Ralph Kramden than at New York’s bustling Port Authority Bus Terminal? It’s a wonderful likeness of Ralph, with lunch box in hand, chest out proudly, ready to start another shift. Or as Alice would say, “That’s not his chest, that’s his stomach, and it’s always out!”

Could it Come Down?

No statue in New York appears to be off limits at the moment. Fortunately, Its Port Authority location means it will be seen primarily by those traveling to or from work – and most rioters have an aversion to honest employment.

Mary Tyler Moore as Mary Richards

Minneapolis

Erected: 2001

Few classic TV freeze frames are as famous as the one at the end of the opening credits to The Mary Tyler Moore Show. A jubilant Mary flings her cap into the air, while a sourpuss woman in the background scowls in contempt. 

That was the moment the sculptor attempted to recreate, with a statue located near the place where that scene was shot – the corner of 7th and Nicollet in Minneapolis. On the base is written, “Who can turn the world on with her smile?” 

Sadly, the artist who created the bronze statue, Gwendolyn Gillen, died just two days after Mary Tyler Moore passed away in January of 2017.

Could it Come Down?

Minneapolis was the epicenter for the ongoing national protests, so anything is possible.

Andy Griffith and Ronny Howard as Andy and Opie Taylor

Raleigh

Erected: 2003

There are two statues depicting the same famous moment of Andy and Opie going fishing, as shown in the opening credits of The Andy Griffith Show. After TV Land erected the original in Raleigh’s Pullen Park, residents of Mount Airy protested the location. They had a point – Mount Airy was Griffith’s hometown and the city that inspired Mayberry. So a second version went up there, in front of the Andy Griffith Playhouse. I think they did a wonderful job with this one. 

Could it Come Down?

Let’s see – which side did North Carolina support in the Civil War? Uh-oh. Maybe this should be the first stop on your tour.

Bob Newhart as Bob Hartley

Chicago

Erected: 2004

This subject always struck me as an odd choice, though I have always loved The Bob Newhart Show. Certainly the interactive quality is fun – how many thousands of people have taken a seat on the couch next to Dr. Hartley and shared their problems? After it first appeared on Michigan Ave. it was moved to Navy Pier, one of Chicago’s most popular spots for tourists and locals.  

Could it Come Down?

I doubt it will get torn down. But it might get shot.

Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha Stevens

Salem

Erected: 2005

From a distance, this nine-foot, 3,000-pound bronze of Samantha astride her broom looks pretty amazing. 

But it loses a little something up close. Still, we should be happy it’s still there in Lappin Park, as some local residents thought it was a disrespectful reminder of those who were persecuted at the actual Salem witch trials. See? People who don’t know the difference between fantasy and reality are nothing new. 

Could it Come Down?

Salem survives on tourism, and even the grumblers have noticed how many visitors enjoy taking selfies with Sam. She should be safe.

James Garner as Bret Maverick

Norman

Erected: 2006

This may be the biggest statue on the list, standing more than 10 feet tall. Norman, Oklahoma was James Garner’s hometown, and this was an appealing tribute to both a favorite son and a classic TV character. 

Could it Come Down?

The Old West? Do we really need to honor another intolerant historic era? Thankfully, very few professional agitators live in Oklahoma.

Henry Winkler as Arthur Fonzarelli

Milwaukee

Erected: 2008

The Fonz in bronze! TV Land was going to move forward on this but changed its mind, probably around the same time they stopped airing any TV shows worth watching. So the city’s tourism board stepped in, raised $85,000, found a local artist that knew cool when he saw it, and the rest is history. I’m still not sure if the coloring on the leather jacket and jeans was a nice touch or an overreach. 

Thankfully, despite the Riverwalk location, he’s not wearing water skis.

Could it Come Down?

Does he represent the oppressive 1950s? Those weren’t happy days for everyone, you know.

Noel Neill as Lois Lane

Metropolis

Erected: 2010

Yes, Metropolis, as in Metropolis, Illinois. The statue immortalizes The Daily Planet’s ace reporter, as played by Noel Neill on The Adventures of Superman. Neill was pushing 90 when it was unveiled, but she was there to see it. That’s awesome. 

 

Could it Come Down?

Try it and you’ll have to answer to you-know-who.

Lucille Ball as Lucy Ricardo

Jamestown

Erected: It’s Complicated

At last, a statue that disappeared and no one, regardless of race, creed or political affiliation, ever missed it. The original Lucille Ball statue by Dave Poulin was so hideous it was dubbed “Scary Lucy,” and even the rioters and the pigeons wouldn’t go near it. 

Poulin died at the too-young age of 58, and it’s sad that this became his best-known work, as he really was quite talented.

Still, that version had to go, and a much more flattering bronze sculpted by Carolyn Palmer was unveiled on August 6, 2016, Lucy’s 105^th birthday. 

Could it Come Down?

I Love Lucy may be the most iconic situation comedy ever created, but one of its running gags was having Lucy mock Ricky’s Cuban accent. People now lose their jobs for doing that.

Who needs a statue next? My nominees:

Maxwell Smart

How many times does a man have to save the world from the forces of KAOS to get a little respect? Besides, Washington D.C. is going to need something to fill all those empty pedestals.

Emma Peel

London loves its statues. They’re everywhere – from Sir Thomas More to Sherlock Holmes, Prince Albert to Paddington Bear. So why not honor the English rose that has been described as the ultimate ‘60s style icon? Diana Rigg would look great in bronze, because she looked great in everything. 

Captain James T. Kirk

Max saved America – Kirk saved the whole galaxy, and slept with half of it too. There’s probably a statue of him already on Rigel II, aka the “pleasure planet,” but we need one on earth as well.

Comfort TV Goes Grocery Shopping

A few years ago I scribbled a note to myself to write a piece about grocery stores in classic TV episodes. It never seemed the right time, and it felt like a pretty strange idea anyway.

But if there was ever a moment to delve into this topic, it’s when we now realize how long we’ve taken these establishments for granted. Unless you are well into your senior years, this is likely the first time you went into the neighborhood supermarket wondering if they’ll have everything you need.

Me, I’ve always liked grocery stores, and I’m always amazed by all the options they provide us. So when one of my favorite shows visits a supermarket, my attention naturally perks up.

There are two kinds of supermarket TV episodes; those that shoot on location in an actual store, and those that build a scaled-down version on a soundstage, and fill it with fake products.

Real Stores

These moments are more fun, because I love freeze-framing on the shelves to see which brands from 30-50 years ago are still available, and which have disappeared.

Some are easy to spot right away, because the packaging has barely changed from then to now – the brown and yellow Bayer Aspirin box; green 7-Up bottles (do they still make it in glass bottles?); Heinz Ketchup.

There’s a supermarket scene in the Partridge Family episode “Why Did the Music Stop?” that I love, because on the shelf behind Shirley are displayed large tin cans of Hi-C fruit juice. I used to get those all the time, especially the Citrus Cooler.

Those are long gone, along with a lot of other products that used to be packaged in heavy glass and metal containers. In an episode of The Donna Reed Show called “Just a Housewife,” Donna is surrounded by shelf after shelf of large metal cans – imagine having to lug paper sacks full of those from the car to the kitchen.

And if you know something of the history of that series, it won’t surprise you that the two most prominent brands in that supermarket scene are Campbell’s Soup and Franco American Spaghetti – both sponsors of The Donna Reed Show. Product placement works, even back in 1960.

Overall, however, it’s surprising how little these places have changed over the decades. The debut episode of Police Story, “Slow Boy,” aired in 1973, and features a stakeout and shoot-out between cops and crooks inside a supermarket. Almost 50 years later that store wouldn’t look out of place now, except for the much lower prices and a few products lost to the ages, like Dixie Riddle Cups.  

An episode of Honey West called “Pop Goes the Easel” opens with an overhead shot of a massive supermarket, shelves stacked to the point of near overflowing. I’d have enjoyed a longer look around, but after thieves steal a can of chicken gumbo soup purchased by Honey’s aunt, the plot heads elsewhere. Turns out that can had a hand-painted label by a pop artist patterned after Andy Warhol.

And in the Eight is Enough episode “Quarantine” I referenced a few weeks ago, David Bradford walks the aisles of a large store where the directory signs are identified by a very ‘70s font of lower-case letters.

Fake Stores

The most familiar fake store from the Comfort TV era is the one owned by Herbert T. Gillis on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. But that’s more of a small neighborhood market. 

The store set built for “Supermarket Sweep” on Laverne & Shirley has shorter aisles, to accommodate the frenzied action as contest-winners Laverne and Shirley have three minutes to grab as much stuff as they can for free.  They load up a cart and stuff more goodies down their clothes, yet somehow only wind up with a box of fish sticks and scooter pies.

Next time you catch this one notice how the items on the shelves were not as vintage as they should have been. There are boxes of Frosted Flakes and Corn Flakes that reflect when the episode was shot, and not the era in which it was set.

Over on Bewitched, in “Samantha’s Lost Weekend” Esmerelda accidentally casts a spell on Sam that puts her in a permanent state of hunger, so it’s off to the market where she starts eating everything right of the shelves, and stealing apples from little old ladies. There’s a mix of real and fake items on display, and because they wanted to condense an entire market into a smaller space you’ll see product arrangements you’d never see in a real store. In one scene there are two shelves of alcoholic beverages stocked directly over the bottles of ketchup. 

It's rare when nearly an entire episode is set in a supermarket, but that’s what happens on Here’s Lucy in “Lucy, the Shopping Expert.” Lucy’s son Craig gets a job at a grocery store, where he is told to help keep the store looking neat and organized…and then Lucy shows up. You can guess the rest. 

This is one of those topics for which there are dozens, if not hundreds more examples. But I think a second grocery store piece might be pushing it. Let’s just hope that the era of grocery shopping that requires masks, social distancing and Soviet-style waiting lists for cleaning supplies and paper products will soon be the kind of memory we’d all rather forget.