This week in TV Guide: April 23, 1977

As you know, this site is all about looking back at the past. And, of course, from the perspective of 2026, 1977 is the past—nearly fifty years, or just as many years as this issue was from 1928, one year before the start of the Great Depression.

Ellen Torgerson has an interesting article this week, the kind that Edith Efron would have written once upon a time, on teen viewing habits. It's interesting not because of what those habits are, but because of how they highlight the changes that have taken place over the past fifty years. If one were to ask the question "what teen-agers watch and why" today, the answer would be swift and decisive, and boiled down to two words: not television. Not when there's a world of TikTok and YouTube and social media out there, not when there's a world of "reality" programming that's streaming, not when their five-minute attention spans are spent, not on the current big thing, but what the next big thing might be. 

However, back in 1977, they did watch television, and in fact they have a "viewer fidelity" that is surprising to experts who condemn teens for their "faddishness and faithlessness" (as I just did above). In fact, one can see that from year to year, their favorites remain remarkably consistent: The Bionic Woman, Charlie's Angels, The Six Million Dollar Man, One Day at a Time, Laverne & Shirley, Happy Days. Occasionally a show will slide down the list a bit, or rise up, but for the most part things stay pretty much the same. And, in this sense at least, it makes perfect sense: heroes that are always in charge and never lose control; curvy women for boys to lust after and girls to aspire to become.

There's more to it than that, though, according to Dr. William Glasser, an authority on teen behavior (if anyone could be said to be an authority on them). Teens aren't all that different from everyone else, Glasser says; they "don't like complications. Like the rest of us, they tend to like television programs with unilateral motivation and uncomplex characters." And here we come to the portion that shows how, for all that we've changed in the intervening fifty years, human nature basically remains the same: "TV is an anxiety reducer; teen-agers have to deal with an increasing sense of powerlessness. They become frustrated and look for simple solutions. On TV, nobody is accountable. Sharsky and Hutch are never called before the captain to explain their actions. TV presents the world as simple, even though it's not. If a teen-ager sees himself as powerless, he can watch Baretta or Police Story (two other perennial favorites), any detective show, and feel powerful along with the characters on the show."

Mind you, this interpretation is far from universally accepted, even by teens, who tend to see this kind of analysis as both overly complicated and over-explained. Several said they liked Starsky and Hutch simply because "they'd just like to be able to drive their cars the way" the two protagonists do. A girl added that, "I like the way the two men are friends and take care of each other." Others said that they get satisfaction from how the younger sister on Happy Days pulls one over on her older brother, just like how they feel that way in real life. 

The Fonz is another popular character to them, not because he's particularly realistic of the era, but because he's what they want to be: "He has all the answers and exhibits antiadult behavior. He's a wise guy; his sarcasm is polished. Teen-agers admire that. They'd like to be like him if they dared." Girls find their equivalent in shows like Laverne & Shirley, where simple problems are provided with simple solutions that fit like a math problem. Says Annette Baran, a licensed clinical social worker, "kids will look at anything that either makes fun of authority or engages their sense of fantasy." 

Teens are like adults in another way, according to Baran; they're not unlike the average working man who plunks down in his favorite chair and turns on the tube. "They turn it on to anything. TV fills empty buckets. It's an antidote to loneliness and the boredom of not having anything to do The teen-ager doesn't want to talk to anyone in his family anyway. They'll only hassle him. TV doesn't talk back or make demands. And it can be a relief from doing homework or worrying about the terrible present or the impossible future."

I'll remind you again that this was written nearly fifty years ago. And yet, read that last sentence again, especially the part about the "terrible present or the impossible future." We tend to think of the past as being somehow better than the present, or at least not quite as bad. But how many young people (and older ones, for that matter) have those same anxieties today? Fears that they'll never get out of debt, that they're destined to have a life that's worse than that of their parents, that the world could be swept up in a global war. Instead of turning on the TV, they go online, where social media tends to feed those anxieties, to make them feel worse, not better. And if they do watch television, they're fed dark, brooding dramas or propaganda programs that try to instill in them an even greater sense of insecurity about who and what they are. 

Is this simply a case of life as it's always been, or is there more to it? Was television a soothing balm back then, or did it, in fact, distract people from those things that could provide them with more satisfaction, a sense of meaning, a calmness that the external world lacks? In heading for the latest screen, whether it be television or phone, are we simply turning our backs on the internal life, on the things in ourselves that we may be afraid to confront, and therefore try to drown out with louder and louder voices, until nothing makes sense anymore? I think we all know the answer to that, even if we don't want to admit it.

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On weeks when we can, we'll match up two of the biggest rock shows of the '70s, NBC's The Midnight Special and the syndicated Don Kirshner's Rock Concert, and see who's better, who's best. 

Kirshner: The Average White Band, Ray Barretto, David Soul, comic Tom Dressen, and the Mime Company.

Special: British rock is the theme of a show featuring Elton John, Rod Stewart, Fleetwood Mac, Genesis, Electric Light Orchestra, and Queen.

Do you even have to ask? The only reason I'd even hesitate is that for so many years, Tom Dressen opened for Frank Sinatra, and you don't want to disappoint The Chairman. But let's face it: this week there's no comparison, which makes it a special night for The Special: winner by a landslide.

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Despite that grim start to this week's issue, the past isn't always a source of angst, as we see in the two-hour CBS News Special "When Television Was Young" (Thursday, 9:00 p.m. ET). And the nice thing about this program is that, unlike many of today's shows about "pioneers of television," this one stays firmly rooted in the 1950's, when the medium really was young. It's hosted by Charles Kuralt, the perfect choice for a retrospective that combines history and nostalgia, looking at an imperfect era with an often romantic hue. We see the great triumphs of early television: series like I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, and Ed Sullivan, landmark anthology dramas from "Requiem for a Heavyweight" to "Twelve Angry Men," stars such as Paul Newman, Jack Lemmon, Grace Kelly and James Dean, and memorable moments from a time when baseball really was the National Pastime.

However—and you know there has to be one of those—there are also the dark times: the blacklist, the Army-McCarthy hearings, the Korean War, and the Quiz Show Scandal. Although the decade is remembered for serious, intense dramas, there's also a fair share of interference from advertisers and network executives, who often demand changes in the scripts: minor ones, such as a coffee sponsor objecting to characters drinking tea, and major ones, dealing with significant social issues such as race and sex. Some will seem silly, while others—Southern stations refusing to air programs with black entertainers—are appalling.

Ultimately, it is what it is, and that's what history's all about. It's critical that television remembers its own roots, even if many of today's viewers have no idea about it, or the people who created it. But then, if TV doesn't care, why should anyone else? Fortunately, this show exists in its entirety on YouTube; someone had the foresight to recognize its value and record it.

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Continuing with music, some interesting variety specials this week, a genre you don't see much anymore; you can still see concerts with stars like Adele and Lady Gaga, especially (but not exclusively) on HBO or Showtime, but not shows with the traditional Bob Hope-type format. On ABC Saturday night, Paul Lynde gets an hour of his own (8:00 p.m.), a traditional set up with musical guests and comedy skits. Paul's guests are Cloris Leachman, Tony Randall, LeVar Burton, and K.C. and the Sunshine Band, and Paul does a comic monologue about an encounter with an unfriendly alien... Meanwhile, there's the one last big network show, belonging to Carol Burnett (10:00 p.m., CBS), and her guest is a pretty big star himself, in stature if not size: Sammy Davis., Jr.

Variety shows aren't the only variety in this week's schedule; thanks in large part to the local stations, we have a top-notch slate of movies in this pre-movie channel era. Not so with the ABC Sunday Night Movie, alas, at least according to Judith Crist. That movie, For a Few Dollars More (9:00 p.m.), the second of the "Man With No Name" trilogy, represents, in Crist's words, "the sadism of allegedly adult adventure," not to mention "the kind of fun you can find at your neighborhood abattoir." That's more than a bit harsh when describing what's become a modern classic, but then, as I remember, she never did like Clint. Or Charles Bronson, for that matter. Oh well, we all have our blind spots.

It's back to music on Monday night, as Paul Anka hosts an hour special (10:00 p.m, ABC), with Natalie Cole and Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, plus cameos from Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Ann-Margaret, Dean Martin, Don Rickles, and others (singing special lyrics to "My Way."). It's mostly Anka singing his hits from through the years, and he's got plenty of them.

NBC follows up with back-to-back country-flavored specials on Tuesday; the first, at 9:00 p.m., starring the aforementioned Ann-Margret... Rhinestone Cowgirl. While you let that image sink in for a minute, I'll mention that the special, taped at the Grand Ole Opry, includes appearances by Bob Hope (of course!), Perry Como, Chet Atkins, and Minnie Pearl. That's followed at 10:00 p.m. by an hour with Mac Davis, and his special guests Tom Jones, Dolly Parton, and Donna Summer, and 84-year-old Memphis guitarist Furry Lewis. I'm not quite sure how Bob Hope didn't wind up on this; perhaps it was just a conflict in schedules.

On Wednesday, it's more grist for Judith Crist's mill, as Jim Brown, Lee Van Cleef (fresh from For a Few Dollars More), and Patrick O'Neal star in El Condor (9:00 p.m., CBS). It's the first time on TV for this movie that models "the stupidities of sex and violence," although if you've seen in in the theaters, you might be disappointed to learn that Mariana Hill's nude scene has been cut. It is, Crist says, the Spanish equivalent of the spaghetti Western, an example of which we saw on Sunday. 

Elsewhere, George Burns co-stars with Abbe Lane in a 1975 special originally shown on the BBC (Thursday, 10:00 p.m., WXIA ). One of the things for which I'm grateful to classic television is the chance to see Burns in his prime, because by this time he's in what I'd call his "Dirty Old Man" phase, with Brooke Shields or some other comely young thing on his arm while he does a little singing and a little more leering. Quite frankly, I didn't much like that George Burns; the Burns of Burns and Allen, on the other hand, is a lot more fun.*

*Although from the stories we read, Burns had a wandering eye (and hand) as well.

The week rounds out with a pair of movies at opposite ends of the spectrum. For the kid in all of us, there's A Boy Named Charlie Brown, the 1969 feature-length Peanuts film (Friday, 8:00 p.m., CBS). The famous opening cloud-watching scene is "absolutely irresistible," but, Crist warns, "adults of any age will find the Rod McKuen songs as awful as his croaking of the title song." (Proving, once again, that McKuen is unsafe at any speed, or age. Oh, for the days of Vince Guaraldi.) It's on up against ABC's Friday night effort, "a silly rather than slanderous view" of cruise ships: The Love Boat (9:00 p.m.), in which a cast of good actors find themselves "trapped in tired little playlets." No suggestion that it's destined for long-run success.

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Baseball season is now in full swing, but the year’s biggest play didn’t happen on the diamond, or even a front office. It occurred, instead, in a board room, where on December 23, 1975, arbitrator Peter Seitz ruled in favor of players Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally in a case challenging baseball’s reserve clause, the provision in the standard contract that allowed teams to “reserve” the rights to players even after their contracts had expired. After the appeals process had played itself out, with the owners finally conceding defeat after losing in the federal courts, Major League Baseball and the Players Association sat down and negotiated the terms of free agency, with the result that many players chose to play the 1976 season without a contract, preferring to test the free agency waters after the season.

The 1977 season will be the first contested in this new environment, and the effect this will have on the game, both short- and long-term, is the subject of Tuesday's CBS Reports special, "The Baseball Business" (10:00 p.m.) Fans aren't so naïve as to think baseball isn't a business, of course, not with the strike from a few seasons ago; nonetheless, "free agents, player agents, million-dollar bonuses and long-term contracts" are guaranteed to change the way the game is played, and the way fans, players and owners see it. For this report, correspondent Bill Moyers travels to spring training to look at the team "many have singled out as the most flagrant practitioner of checkbook baseball"—and if you think that team is any other than the New York Yankees, you've got another think coming. Substitute the Los Angeles Dodgers for the Yankees, and you're right up-to-date.

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Staying in the sports arena, so to speak, here's a real collector's item: an article about Bruce Jenner in which the phrase "sex change" is nowhere to be found. The only transformation to be found is the one Jenner's making from track and field to the broadcasting booth with ABC, a challenge Jenner approaches the same way he did when he was in competition: "It may be a good idea," he tells Melvin Durslag. "But I first have to believe it myself, and that's what I'm trying to do."

The son of a tree surgeon, Jenner was an excellent all-around athlete in school, but he didn't try track until he was 20, and didn't get into the decathlon until 1970. Six years later, he won the gold medal at the Montreal Olympics, setting a world record in the process. He admits that his dedication to preparing for the Games put a strain on his marriage, but he hopes that giving up the competitive world of sports will make a new man out of him, and heal the divisions—for the time being, at least. (They divorce in 1981.) Now that he's made himself over, Jenner hopes to start an acting career as well, and as this article is being written, he's won a small part in a movie called SST—Death Flight.

ABC is bullish on Jenner's future, but as Durslag notes, the athletes most successful at making the transition from the playing field to the broadcast booth—Frank Gifford, Pat Summerall—did so only after long hours of preparation and worth, and the ability to win over their non-athlete colleagues. Concludes Durslag, "[Jenner] has an incredible personality. This will carry him for a while. But how far he goes from there will be up to him." One thing's for sure: as is the case with any former jock, a new life awaits Bruce Jenner.

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One more sports note, and one has to wonder if we won't see something like this come to pass in these days when the sports dollar controls so much of television: Sally Bedell reports that ABC is investigating, and may consider cancelling, the United States Boxing Championships tournament it's been broadcasting, in an attempt to return big-time boxing to the small screen. It was launched in the wake of the Rocky phenomenon, complete with the theme, and for awhile things seemed to be looking good. 

Of course, the first indication of trouble should have been obvious when Don King was announced as the producer of the tournament. With nine of the sixteen shows still unseen, a Federal grand jury has opened an investigation into alleged fight-fixing and kickbacks. One unnamed fighter from Texas (later identified as Kenny Weldon) testified that he had to pay $2,500 to enter the tournament, while fighters signed to personal contracts by King were rumored to have been awarded dubious decisions over non-King fighters. 

Jim Spence, VP at ABC Sports, acknowledges that the series is in trouble, and that "One of our options is to discontinue the tournament. If we find additional incidents we could well end up canceling. If we don't we will probably continue." Despite the allegations, Spence sees a bright future for boxing on television, although he concedes that the sport requires "more careful supervision than other events televised by the network." 

In the end, an investigation spearheaded by Alex Wallau of ABC and New York journalist Malcolm Gordon uncovered further irregularities, including evidence that rankings for some of the boxers had been artificially inflated by the prestigeous Ring magazine (the "bible of boxing), "publishing results of fights that never took place for those boxers and then updating those boxers' fight records to reflect such non-existent bouts in order for them to be accepted into the tournament by ABC." By the time this issue of TV Guide went to press, the network had already KO'ed the series. 

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Finally, a touch of irony: on Sunday night, part 15 of Upstairs, Downstairs (9:00 p.m., PBS) takes us to the Great Depression of 1929, when James and Rose are both wiped out by the stock market crash. Remember what I said at the beginning of this piece, about 2026 being as far from 1977 as 1977 was from 1928? That really makes Upstairs, Downstairs a period piece, doesn't it? 

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MST3K alert: Marooned (1969) Oscar-winning special effects enhance the tension as mission control races against time and a threatening hurricane to retrieve three astronauts trapped in space. Gregory Peck, Richard Crenna, David Janssen, James Franciscus, Lee Grant, Gene Hackman, Nancy Kovack. (Wednesday, 8:00 p.m., W0SB in Atlanta) Marooned is the only film featured on MST3K to win an Oscar, and so it's appropriate that when it was shown, it was under the name Space Travelers, having been redistributed byFilm Ventures International, "an ultra-low-budget production company that prepared quickie television and video releases of films that were in the public domain or could be purchased inexpensively." I like to think that this (and the terrible new opening and closing credits which they pasted on it) is what makes it MST3K-worthy. TV

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Around the dial

At Comfort TV, David gets our week off to a start with a look at the much-maligned Season Four of The Twilight Zone, the year the series shifted to one-hour episodes, and finds some gems in the mix.

The Omega Factor is the focus of John's post at Cult TV Blog, specifically the episode "The Undiscovered Country." He calls it Scotland's "predecessor to The X-Files," which is a heavy burden to carry. Does this inaugural episode from 1979 pull it off?

At The View from the Junkyard, this week's episode of The A-Team, "The Big Squeeze," gets off to a bang, as Hannibal is shot and killed pre-credits! Say it's not so, Roger! Well, you'll have to read for yourself, but I don't think it's too serious.

Care for a little musical interlude? How about a few songs about Superman? That's Terence's "theme" at A Shroud of Thoughts, as he commemorates the 88th anniversary of the superhero with songs featuring his name.

When I was young, back in the Middle Ages, it was a regular thing to pop down to the store and get some bubble gum cards. Baseball, football, even hockey; I had quite the collection at one time. But never the Lone Ranger, which Martin Grams rectifies this week.

And before I forget, my video series with Dan Schneider on the forgotten—rather, let's call them overlooked—pioneers of television continues with a look at a couple of prominent names from the era: Bill Cullen and Henry Morgan. They're great fun, and a great way to start the weekend! TV

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The Book of Revelations: Available for Preorder!

Seeing as how this is, after all, my website, I'm exercising my editorial privilege of deviating from the regular format to give you the latest update on my new novel, The Book of Revelations. 

Now, it must seem to you as if I’ve been talking about this for a long time. (And if so, imagine how long it must seem to me!) But I come to you with some big news: The Book of Revelations is now available for preorder! And yes—there’s a reason to do it now instead of waiting. So here’s the deal.

From now through June 23, both editions are available at a reduced preorder price:

• The print edition drops from $14.99 to $11.99. (Order here)
• The ebook goes from $5.99 to $4.99. (Order here)

If you’re planning to buy it anyway, there's no reason to wait—you can’t beat a deal like this!

Here’s a preview of what to expect:

Intrigued?

The Book of Revelations is a meditation on memory, guilt, and the limits of protection. It asks what remains when everything familiar is taken away, and whether some absences can ever be filled—or whether they’re simply carried forward, until the moment the last story is finally revealed.

You can read more about it at the book's website, mitchellhadley.neocities.org. (And while you’re at it, sign up for my free monthly newsletter!)

Between you and me, I can honestly say that, out of everything I've written over the years, this book is the one that's most personally affected me; it's also the best work I've ever done. Go grab it while the preorder price is still good—you’ll be glad you did. TV

If you enjoy the content here and want to support my broader creative work, please consider leaving a tip at my Ko-fi page. Any amount you contribute helps me continue writing, researching, and sharing these articles and projects. Thank you!

What's on TV? Tuesday, April 20, 1993

Oprah Winfrey's guest today is Corazon Atienza, who is described as having "evaded a 1966 mass murder by hiding under a bed." That's a pretty ordinary description, but there was still something in that "hiding under a bed" bit that rang a bell, and as it turns out, that description really undersells the story. In 1966, Corazon Atienza was a student nurse in Chicago, and the "mass murder" that the listing so blandly refers to was, in fact, the gruesome murder of eight student nurses by Richard Speck, at the time called one of the "Crimes of the Century"; to this day it remains one of the most infamous crimes in American history. Although Atienza later returned to the Philippines, the connection to Winfrey's show is no surprise, given that she did her show in Chicago. In 1993, Speck's name would still have been familiar to most Americans, who would have remembered the murders; unfortunately, the listing in this week's New York City Metro edition fails to provide any historical perspective whatsoever. Oh well, I suppose by this time if you've seen one mass murder, you've seen them all

This week in TV Guide: April 17, 1993

this week's TV Guide is a special, the 40th Anniversary edition. It's an interesting issue, and this is going to be an interesting look at it; we won't even dip into the programming until Monday. That's because this is the 40th Anniversary Issue, and as you can tell from the cover, we're going to be reading about TV Guide's choices as the All-Time Best TV.* Ratings like this are ultimately pointless (one man's trash is another man's treasure, after all, and as the Editors themselves point out, "most of the fun is in the argument"), but they're usually fun to look at. Let's see if that's the case this time as well.

*I can't imagine writing this phrase without using Capital Letters.

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The shows are separated into categories: sitcoms, family shows, cop shows, Westerns and the like, and winners are chosen for the decades of the '50s, '60s, '70s, '80s and overall. Some of the choices, which must have seemed so progressive at the time, are probably going to be quite dated now, while others are going to be a testimony to how cultures change over time. Let's start, as an example, with sitcoms. The best sitcom of the '50s is no surprise: I Love Lucy. Probably not much disagreement there. For the '60s, the winner is The Dick Van Dyke Show, the '70s is M*A*S*H, the '80s is Cheers, and the All-Time Best* is M*A*S*H. What does this mean?

*There are those Capital Letters again.

The justification for selecting M*A*S*H as the all-time best is that it did what only the greatest comedies do: "mix hilarity and tragedy, often in equal measure." I'm not sure I agree with this—the definition, I mean. Yes, many comedies introduce an element of drama from time to time, but I disagree strongly with the assertion that this is a requirement of classic comedy. The editors acknowledge that M*A*S*H's politics could occasionally be heavy-handed, but "never at the expense of laughter or character," and I'm not sure I agree with that either. The politics of M*A*S*H, while ostensibly referring to the Korean War, was often meant as an allegory for Vietnam—but by this time, much of it has become dated, not to mention simplistic, and its cast members seem even more sanctimonious and pushy than they did back then. Perhaps the editors could have created a category for Best Dramedy, where M*A*S*H could have competed against Thirtysomething and SportsNight.

Another characteristic of classic comedy is its timelessness, and that's something that one can genuinely question about M*A*S*H. Let's put it this way: if you were to introduce this show to an audience today, one that lies outside of the demographic most preoccupied with Vietnam, would they find it funny in the same way they do Lucy or Andy Griffith or Leave it to Beaver, or even Frazier and Seinfeld, if you want to project into the future? I'm not sure they would, because those other shows, although rooted in a specific time period, often draw their humor from situations that are timeless and jokes that are often funny regardless of their setting. Much of M*A*S*H's humor may fall into that category (after all, authority will always be the butt of the joke), but I don't think you can say the same for its politics, and for that reason M*A*S*H, like another contender from the era, All in the Family, is too much of its time to be considered timeless.

My own personal choice in this category, not surprisingly to regular readers, is Hogan's Heroes, which combines a modicum of slapstick with some very clever "caper" plotting that also happens to be very funny. There's a certain gravitas about the mission of the Heroes that doesn't exist on, for example, McHale's Navy, and from time to time you're reminded that their missions do, in fact, often involve killing. The complaints about bad taste fall on deaf ears in this household, and most of the situations that form the basis for the comedy do seem, to me at least, to be universal in a way that they aren't in M*A*S*H. This is just one man's opinion; however, remember that the one man happens to be the owner of this blog.

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Best Drama? Your winners by decade are Playhouse 90, The Fugitive, Upstairs, Downstairs, and St. Elsewhere, and even before I turned the page I knew St. Elsewhere would be the winner, because it came from the '80s, which at the time was considered another Golden Age, and it was the most recent in people's minds.

Here, my complaint revolves around methodology. Some people might consider Hill Street Blues, the winner of Best Cop Show, as the best dramatic series of all time. Ah, but Hill Street is a genre show, albeit one that transcends the normal lines that separate a genre series from a regular drama. Others might suggest that The Waltons, a nominee for Best Family Show, should be considered for this category. For that matter, St. Elsewhere could be considered a genre show itself, a medical drama. But wait—there isn't a category for best Medical Drama. Could it be because there aren't really any medical dramas on television at the time, before ER and Chicago Hope and House? Can we even say that St. Elsewhere would be the best medical drama if that category existed? After all, Ben Casey and Dr. Kildare took on some weighty issues for the time.

I think this is a terribly weak choice: of the shows listed, I'd probably go with The Fugitive, although Playhouse 90 is a strong contender. The problem with Playhouse 90, in my mind, is that it was an anthology; as such, without a regular cast, you don't have to consider things such as character development and continuing storyline. It probably should have gone in a category for Best Anthology, but said category does not exist. Meanwhile, The Fugitive could just as easily have been put in the cop show category since its protagonist spends his time trying to avoid capture by—you guessed it—a cop. Upstairs, Downstairs could just as easily be put in the Best Nighttime Soap category (not that there's anything wrong with that), but if you're going to consider it as among the best, then let's look at the series that was the best Masterpiece Theatre had to offer: I, Claudius. Or was that too much of a soap? And what about The Prisoner, one of the most provocative series of all time? It isn't even mentioned in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy category. What about The Defenders or Judd for the Defense, shows of exceedingly high quality, or Perry Mason, a series with high entertainment value? What about Mission: Impossible, which doesn't seem to fit into any category?

The bottom line here is that the categories themselves are useless—unless there's something that makes a series unique (and I'd allow that science fiction can fall into that description, as well as the anthology series, and today's reality shows), a drama is a drama and a comedy is a comedy. To paraphrase the editors, a classic television series transcends simple classification; just as Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe transcended genre fiction to be considered mainstream literature, the best series, regardless of the field in which they take place, are dramas (or comedies) first and foremost. Dragnet, one of the decade winners in the Best Cop category, is fine as a genre show, but it doesn't reach the level of another decade winner, Naked City, which is not a police drama at all, but a drama about men who happen to be policemen. See the difference?

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There are a few other bones to pick as well.

I mentioned Best Family Show above, but I'll say again that I think this kind of segregation cheapens the quality of these shows. The Waltons not a drama series? Leave it to Beaver and The Donna Reed Show classified as "family" shows and not sitcoms? It's almost as if the editors are embarrassed by them, giving them a special category rather than letting them compete with the "big boys." And speaking of embarrassment, I wonder how they'd feel about their all-time winner in this category, The Cosby Show? (Whoops!) They might like to forget it, but Cosby was the biggest hit of the day. Why isn't this a sitcom, unless you want to define them as containing jokes about sex and other bodily functions?

I also mentioned Hill Street Blues winning Best Cop Show, but how can you compare cops on the beat to homicide detective Columbo (winner of the '60s)? Dragnet is a worthy winner for the '50s, but if you want cops, why not choose the crew of Naked City, a much better show than Hill Street, at least in my opinion. Still, if this issue had come out today, the choices probably would have been one of the Law & Order versions, or one of the NCIS versions, or the Matlock reboot, so I suppose we have to be grateful for small favors.

Johnny Carson is named best Nighttime Talk Show host, defeating Steve Allen, Jack Paar and David Letterman. No surprise, and I don't think you can really argue with it. Paar is more my taste, but between Johnny's staying power and the memorable moments from interviews, comedy skits and impromptu bits (thrown any tomahawks lately?), it's hard to dispute him as the king. And to think so many from today's generation have no clue who he is.

The Ed Sullivan Show wins for Best Variety Show, beating out Laugh-In, Saturday Night Live and The Tracey Ullman Show, and I'll admit I'm kind of surprised by this. I'd have thought they might go with SNL, based on its "groundbreaking" reputation, but Sullivan's show offered, as the editors point out, "all-encompassing variety," a program "that offered everything from dramatic readings to dancing bears, from opera buffo to Topo Gigio, from The Doors to Dinah Shore." As I pointed out here, it was influential in ways Sullivan himself couldn't have anticipated.

Howard Cosell is named Best Sportscaster, but he wasn't really a sportscaster in the sense that Vin Scully or Keith Jackson or Brent Musberger are; he was a sports commentator, or even better a sports personality. Yes, he did boxing and was very good at it (although not better than Don Dunphy), and he is absolutely one of the most important figures in television. But he doesn't belong in the same category with Red Barber, the voice of the Brooklyn Dodgers, or Jim McKay, host of Wide World of Sports, or even the young Bob Costas (who actually did more than pontificate back then), the other three nominees. Here, a little bit more distinction in categories would actually have been useful.

The Simpsons is the winner for Best Cartoon (what we'd call Best Animated Series today), but I think that really belongs in the sitcom classification, where it would probably have beaten M*A*S*H. It beats out Gumby (which wasn't a cartoon at all), The Bullwinkle Show (which wasn't a kids' show at all), and Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids (which has suddenly become very awkward). I'm really quite surprised, considering its longevity and popularity, that The Flintstones doesn't make the list.

I'm even more surprised—make that appalled—that Captain Kangaroo doesn't make the list of Best Kids' Show. Yes to Howdy Doody for the '50s and Sesame Street for the '70s, but Walt Disney instead of the Captain for the '60s? Disney's appeal crossed over to adults as well as children, and when you're talking about a "kids' show," you can't possibly compare "The Love Bug" and "Davy Crockett" (popular though they were) to Mr. Green Jeans talking about nature, the Captain introducing kids to the wonders of books through reading, or the various animal guests. As for the show of the '80s, ABC's Afterschool Specials, again—it's not a weekly series. Isn't this just apples and oranges? By the way, Sesame Street wins—no surprise.

For best Sci-Fi Show, I would have chosen Doctor Who, but at the time the British import hadn't gone mainstream, though it still had an enormous cult following in this country. Star Trek: TOS is the winner here, over The Twilight Zone (again, I'm not sure they really fit in the same category), Mork & Mindy (?), and Star Trek: TNG.

The original version of Jeopardy!, with Art Fleming, takes the Best Game Show category, and I'm not going to disagree with that—it's much better, in my opinion, than the Alex Trebek-helmed version. What's My Line?, the '50s choice, would have been mine as well, but it's not really a game show in the same sense as Jeopardy! or the other winners, Password and Wheel of Fortune. It was considered a panel show, which is really a horse of a different color altogether.

Best News Show: 60 Minutes, over See It Now, The Huntley-Brinkley Report (which, I can't stress enough, was NBC's frigging evening news program, not in the same category at all) and Nightline. If you're talking about news magazines, sure, 60 Minutes—but if you're introducing Huntley-Brinkley, why not The MacNeil/Lehrer Report?

Best Morning Show: The Today Show, and I'm all right with that if you're talking about the '50s and '60s, as they do here. Good Morning America is the '70s choice, and CBS News Sunday Morning wins the '80s. It just goes to show how weak the entire weekday-morning lineup is.

Best Daytime Soap is General Hospital. Best Evening Soap is Dallas. I won't quarrel with either. Best Daytime Talk Show Host is Oprah Winfrey, and I think that choice, though regrettable, was inevitable. Arthur Godfrey's '50s show and Merv Griffin's '60s daytime show were in the mix, as well as Phil Donohue in the '70s; I prefer Merv's evening/late night show, for the same reasons they chose his '60s program—Merv as host was "a literate, intelligent one who didn't shrink from cerebral or controversial guests." And in that vein, don't forget that Dick Cavett started out as a daytime host as well, with ABC's This Morning.

Best Western Show: Gunsmoke, over Maverick ('50s) and Bonanza ('60s). Sure, although I think Gunsmoke is better placed in the '60s than '70s, but they had to have something for the '70s, since they couldn't come up with anything for the '80s (for the simple reason that there wasn't anything. For a genre that, at one time, dominated the TV airwaves, it's too bad TV Guide's format is so limiting; it leaves out a program such as Have Gun—Will Travel, a very complex program.

I'm not even bothering with the Best Actor and Actress categories, since I think the Best Show categories have created enough of a mess, but if you're curious the comedy awards went to Jackie Gleason and Lucille Ball (but wait a minute! The Honeymooners wasn't even a choice for sitcoms, and The Jackie Gleason Show didn't make it for variety show!), and the drama award winners were James Garner (who's magnificent forte is really the lighthearted drama) and Tyne Daly (whose Cagney & Lacey doesn't have the staying power needed to be voted best anything, I'd submit). Best Newscaster is Walter Cronkite, and my favorite, the non-nominated David Brinkley, wouldn't have stood a chance.

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And there you have it. I'm sure I've probably slammed some of your favorite shows, and if I have, I hope you'll forgive me. This is, after all, One Man's Opinion, and even if - as I mentioned earlier—that man happens to run this site, my opinions should be taken for what they're worth.

On the other hand, I think my opinions are as valid as anyone else's, certainly as much so as the editors of TV Guide, compared to whom I think I've shown more discernment and taste, as well as a greater sense of historicity, and I won't back down from that assertion.

However, what I'd like as much as anything is to hear your opinions. Keep in mind that this was written in 1993, so some of your favorites (especially from the cable boom) weren't anticipated, but otherwise, have at it—with either TV Guide, or me, or both.  TV

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