We learned sadly of the death of Ken Weatherwax (59) this
week. And if you have not been following
the news you probably have no idea of his relevance to the world of pop
culture. But if you are a Baby Boomer,
as I am, you would certainly recognize the name Pugsley Addams.
You must remember that television in the Sixties was the
product of the Greatest Generation. And
their consciousness was all about two experiences; the Great Depression and
World War II. So quite naturally the
quest for humor quite often flowed from the fountainhead of the war and things
military.
One exception was The
Andy Griffith Show (CBS-Oct. 1960
to Apr. 1968) which dealt with the day-to-day life of a small town community in
rural America. Although the setting was
contemporary, the bucolic, Southern motif gave the show more of a 1930’s (Depression
era) feeling. Andy Griffith played
Mayberry sheriff Andy Taylor, whose homespun approach to all things served to
mollify the hysterics brought on by each week’s sitcom emergency. The energy of the show was really driven by
Don Knotts as Deputy Barney Fife and the rest of the town’s eccentric
characters. While Sheriff Andy rarely
carried a gun, Deputy Barney certainly did; unloaded, a single bullet in his
uniform shirt pocket. Among the cast was Ron Howard who played Andy’s son, Opie. Yes, the Ron Howard who grew up to be one of
the boomer generations greatest film directors.
To avoid any confusion, syndicated reruns are generally titled Andy of Mayberry.
Although that show bore no military motif, one of the
funnier characters was spun off into its own series Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. (CBS-Sept. 1964 to May 1969). Pyle, played by Jim Nabors, was a Mayberry
gas station attendant whose lifelong dream was to become a Marine. Gomer was an affable sort whose joyful,
homespun approach to all things aggravated his drill sergeant, Vince Carter
(played by Frank Sutton) to dyspepsia. Such was Sergeant Carter’s distress that
at the end of season one, he gave up his billet as a drill instructor to return
to platoon sergeant duties. You guessed right,
despite all odds being against it, Carter’s platoon was the assignment of one
new boot camp graduate, Gomer Pyle.
Although this show played through the worst years of the conflict, Viet
Nam was never mentioned. Ah, the magic
of television. An interesting side
note: In 1964, ABC aired a one-season
loser to compete with Gomer Pyle titled No
Time for Sergeants. It was the story
of a U.S. Air Force recruit Will Stockdale whose homespun approach to the
military was a constant source of aggravation for his sergeant. The irony is, No Time for Sergeants was a novel (1954 Mac Hyman) which was
adapted into a Broadway play and motion picture (1958) starring… Andy Griffith
as Will Stockdale. (If you didn’t go “Hmm!”
reread the previous paragraph… we’ll wait for you here).
Such copycat competition was common in the sixties. I guess the mantra of television scheduling
executives was, “If a bad idea worked for them, how can one worse lose for us?”
To wit, The Munsters
(CBS Sep. 1964 to May 1966) was a counterpoint to ABC’s The Addams Family.
Unbelievably, The Munsters
outperformed The Addams Family in the
Nielsen ratings and episodes produced (70).
The Munsters relied on cheap
visual gimmicks and pratfalls for its humor.
Let’s face it, seeing a seven foot tall, green, unwitting moron scare
people into double-speed running only makes one laugh… maybe once. The Addams, on the other hand, were a bit
sinister and the humor carry over from Charles Addams comic strip strengthened
the sense of the macabre. I have admired
Fred Gwynne’s (Herman Munster) work as an actor (see My Cousin VInny, 1992, 20th Century Fox) but John Aston
(Gomez Addams) is naturally hilarious, always.
Another example of dueling sitcoms was couched in the world
of the supernatural. In 1964, ABC
launched Bewitched starring Elizabeth
Montgomery (Samantha) as a witch who agreed to forsake all her powers so she
could marry a mortal, Darren Stevens (originally played to perfection by Dick
York, unfortunately replaced due to illness by a less talented Dick Sergeant in
the final three seasons). In 1965, in
response to the success of Bewitched,
NBC offered I Dream of Jeannie (Barbara
Eden); the story of a genie trapped in a bottle discovered by wayward astronaut
Tony Nelson (Larry Hagman… yeah that’s right, the evil J. R. Ewing of Dallas
began his TV career as a good guy!) whose space capsule had landed on a desert
island.
The overarching plot of both shows was the same. Supernaturally endowed sex kitten promises to
live a “normal” life for sake of their beloved.
Funny thing how such a simple goal can be so hard to achieve in the
world of situation comedy. Each episode
followed a template: Samantha/Jeannie cheats on vow to forsake magic; unforeseen
consequences cause angst and probability of discovery for Darren/Tony; powers
used just one last time to rectify situation; everyone lives happily ever after…
‘til next week.
The truth is, the viewing audience tuned into the respective
shows for different reasons. While the
story lines of Bewitched were no
better than I Dream of Jeannie, the
gem was in the supporting characters. Bewitched offered familiar supporting
and guest actors such as Agnes Moorehead (Samantha’s mother), Alice Pearce (nosy
neighbor Gladys Kravits), Alice Ghostley (Esmeralda) and Paul Lynde (Samantha’s
uncle Arthur), who all made numerous, hilarious appearances. We tuned into I Dream of Jeannie to
watch Barbara Eden’s bare midriff.
Now I, for one, never could understand this devotion to living
the simple, normal life. If your
oversexed, immortal (never to age, guys, never
to age) paramour had the powers to provide a life of luxury and excess free
of work and consequences, why would you choose to be Joe Lunchbox. It didn’t ring true to me then, it doesn’t
today, “Conjure up the yacht, baby… we’re wintering on the Riviera!”
Don’t panic, there’s still more come. But as this is panning out to be a bit longer
than I expected, I will continue next week.
Here’s a tease: Think cold war
spies!
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