September 13, 2025

This week in TV Guide: September 16, 1978



This week TV Guide assembles its panel of experts to assess the chances of success for the 21 new shows on the Fall schedule. Those experts are four advertising executives heavily involved in steering sponsorship money to the new season's programs: Lou Dorkin of Dancer-Fitzgerald-Sample, Joel Segal of Ted Bates & Co., Inc., Michael Lepiner of Benton & Bowles Inc., and Paul Schulman of Gardner Advertising Companies. Collectively, they're responsible for committing "tens of millions of their clients' money to the new season's programs."

As usual, when I look at lists like this, I start at the bottom and work my way up, and as I looked at the bottom three (#21, People;  #20, The Paper Chase*; #19, Lifeline), I thought the critics had sized things up pretty well: People, a TV version of the magazine hosted by Phyllis George, made it through eight episodes; while Lifeline, a real-life documentary series focusing on a hospital ER, survived for 18 episodes spread over two seasons; meanwhile, The Paper Chase was an overrated series that was cancelled by CBS after one season and lasted for three additional seasons on PBS. So far, so good—or so bad, in this case.

*To its credit, Paper Chase, a show I always considered outrageously overrated, was admired by the panelists as "a quality effort" and a "touch of class." Of course, as anyone in the business can tell you, it's better to be popular than admired; while the series did make it through four seasons (including three on PBS), the praise given it amounts to little more than the Miss Congeniality award of the year.

But as I wound my way up the list, I began to wonder if those critics had really been as perceptive as I'd originally thought. There was Apple Pie at #18, The American Girls at #17, The Waverly Wonders* at #15, W.E.B. at #13, The Eddie Capra Mysteries at #11. None of these series scored higher than a one from any member of the panel, and given that one point meant "a marginal show that could survive but probably won't" (several of them received zeros, meaning "a natural-born loser"), I started to understand the unvarnished truth: the great majority of the new shows were, quite simply, bad. Continuing, there was Sword of Justice at #10, In the Beginning at #8, Mary at #5—was there no hope for this season?

*Supposedly, Larry Hagman was offered the choice between The Waverly Wonders, a sitcom in which he'd be the lead, and a prime-time drama where he would play an "unscrupulous and ruthless" character. He chose the latter, which was called Dallas, and attained television immortality. The lead in Waverly went to Joe Namath, who went on to demonstrate, over the course of four episodes, why he made the Hall of Fame as a football player.

There was a faint glimmer of light in Mork & Mindy, the #7 show, which runs for four seasons, the longest of any show outside the top four. That it didn't finish higher is understandable; three of the four panelists gave it a zero, and Dorkin calls it "strictly kid-stuff" and a "one-note gag." However, it also indicates that the panel either misjudged or didn't appreciate the magnetism of Robin Williams, which is perhaps understandable; a personality of his magnitude doesn't come along very often. To his credit, though, Schulman sees this as "the sleeper of the year." Dorkin was more positive about the #4 series, WKRP in Cincinnati; he ranks it "the comedy breakthrough of the season," and likes its chances even against NBC's Little House on the Prairie

Taxi
, at #3 on our list, is perhaps the most successful of all the season's new shows; it runs for five seasons over two different networks, and leaves with 18 Emmy Awards (including three for Best Comedy Series), along with a host of beloved characters. It doesn't hurt that it airs on ABC between Three's Company and Starsky & Hutch. There's no missing #2, though: Battlestar Galactica, which scores 11 out of a possible 12 points, not to mention a spot on this week's cover. It is, the panel agrees, the only new series that "is in any sense innovative," and it's been given a desirable spot on Sunday night, the most heavily-viewed night of the week. "It's bound to attract by the zillions kids and young adults who are famished for more Star Wars thrills and intergalactic derring-do." And it did, indeed, go on to become a multi-season success, although in order to do so it would have to wait 25 years to be rebooted on a cable network that didn't even exist in 1978. 

This brings us to the #1 show, one that is considered an absolutely, positively, guaranteed success. Each of our four critics gave the series a score of three points, which meant "a show that's a sure winner [that] is destined to be a front runner in the ratings." That show happens to be Vega$, starring Robert Urich, and while it was a solid success, running for three seasons and remains fondly remembered by many (not least because of Audrey Davis and Judy Landers), it's not quite the unqualified, long-running hit that one might have expected, particularly considering the prime scheduling slot it's been given, immediately following Charlie's Angels. However, given the shows we've seen in this list, it qualifies as an unqualified success.

If you're somewhat underwhelmed by what you've seen here, you're not alone. ABC's schedule, for example, is decried as "junk," "kiddy-porn," and "bubble-gum banality," yet it's also agreed that the network—and its highly successful programming—is now considered "the model for the other two networks who are transparently attempting to duplicate its success." It doesn't take long for the results to show; several of the new series are gone by November, including Mary Tyler Moore's Mary, which is pulled after four episodes at Mary's request. In case you're thinking that hope lies around the corner with the mid-season replacements, guess again: those replacements include Hello, Larry, Supertrain, Sweepstakes, and David Cassidy–Man Undercover, and The Stockard Channing Show. To be fair, though, it also includes The Dukes of Hazard and Diff'rent Strokes. But if you're thinking that this new season was pretty underwhelming, you're absolutely right. And to their credit, the panelists were pretty accurate in their predictions. But then, how could they not be, when most of what they had to choose from were bombs? 

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Among those looking at the new season is our erstwhile critic, Robert MacKenzie. He's not offering any reviews, not yet anyway; too early for that, and some of these shows won't be on long enough to be reviewed anyway. Curiously, though, he sees a number of the 21 shows as "unusually promising"—on paper, at least. He likes the idea of Lifeline, and the rise of nonfiction television in general, although I suspect he might have had second thoughts had he seen these quasi-documentaries morph into unscripted "reality" television that, in reality, was anything but. He praises NBC's Fred Silverman for his commitment to "More prime-time news specials and documentaries," although perhaps their most interesting documentary would have been one explaining how a program like Supertrain gets greenlighted for the second season. 

He's also encouraged that television has finally come to realize that shows can be set in cities other than New York or Los Angeles, as evidenced by The Paper Chase (somewhere in the Northeast), Vega$ (Las Vegas), WKRP in Cincinnati (Cincinnati), and Battlestar Galactica (outer space). Just for good measure, he throws in W.E.B., a show that "threatens to take us inside the world of network broadcasting." (At five episodes, I wonder if he got a chance to review it?) Well, he does warn us that "This will not be a comedy, unless unintentionally."

As for what he terms "the Beach Blanket Bounce-off," those shows featuring girls dressed (or undressed) in bikinis, towels, and nighties, "The critic, no sexist he, will judge these series on their merits, with only proper attention to their charms."

Rest assured, though, that MacKenzie, as is the case with any good critic, is "free to draw the useful and happy distinction between good ratings and good television." It's not necessarily the case that never the twain shall meet, but, borrowing the royal "we" from our hero Cleve, "We plan to keep an open mind, a condition that is best maintained in a horizontal position," with the eyes closed and the feet up.

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Back in the days when networks actually aired movies, one of the treats of the new season was seeing some of these blockbusters make their television premieres. And in an effort to get the maximum impact from these premieres, the networks are quite apt to do one of two things: add additional footage to expand the running time so the movies can be turned into two-parters; or remove footage so the movies can be shown on TV in the first place.

An example of the latter is The Bad News Bears (Friday, 9:00 p.m., ABC), which Judith Crist calls "one of the best kids' movies of recent years." Until, that is, the movie was "bowdlerized" by ABC. One of the movie's strengths, in addition to "top-notch" performances from Walter Matthau, Tatum O'Neal, and Jackie Earle Haley, was that "for once screen kids talked the way human kids do." Unfortunately, "the salty speech has been sugared for TV, even though 10 million kids will know the three little words that are missing from that tag line." More evidence, in case we needed it, that the kids are often a lot more advanced than the adults, which, in fact, would answer quite a few of the questions regarding how kids are brought up nowadays.

At the other end of the scale, we have two cases in which movies that were perhaps already too long are being made even longer, thanks to the addition of "additional" footage that was, mostly, culled from the cutting room floor. The wisdom of the film editors can easily be seen in Airport '77 (Tuesday and Wednesday, 9:00 p.m. each night, NBC), in which 70, count 'em 70, minutes have been added, 67 of them being outtakes, to, as Crist says, "pad out scenes." It doesn't add anything to a movie that has completely abandoned the airport premise of the first two films; "Not to worry, disaster and/or cliche lovers," Crist assures us; "all goes unsmoothly and there are some exciting air-sea rescue operations after the plan winds up at the bottom of the ocean in, no less, the Bermuda Triangle."

The other premiere to get the stretch treatment is the 1976 remake of King Kong (Saturday and Sunday, 9:00 p.m. each night, NBC), which has 65 minutes being added to the 134 minutes of the theatrical release, all of it outtakes. Alas, the new footage can't hide the reality: the charm of the original 1933 classic "is lost amid all the hydraulic manipulations and plastic. For those who don't know the original film, the new version can be a foolish entertainment. For those who do, it's a travesty."

One might think we'll fare better with movies that make it to the small screen more or less intact, but such is not the case of 1976's The Shootist (Tuesday, 9:00 p.m., CBS), with John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Lauren Bacall, and Ron Howard "wasted" in "a tediously pretentious and vapid melodrama about the last days of a 'legendary' killer." Wayne and Bacall emerge from the movie as "anachronistic antiques," in Crist's words. I happen to like The Shootist myself, but I'm willing to allow as to how this may be an example of a movie that ages well; part of its power, I think, comes from it being the Duke's last movie, and seen in the light of a dying actor in his final movie playing a dying gunman in his last hurrah, it takes on a resonance and emotional charge that it might not necessarily have had during its original viewing. Put another way, if Wayne had gone on to make five or six movies after The Shootist, would we remember it as fondly as we do?

Even old reliables aren't necessarily a guarantee of success; take Lassie: The New Beginning, another two-parter (this one a telemovie, so the padding is all intentional), airing Sunday at 7:00 p.m. on ABC, with the conclusion being shown next Sunday at the same time. It is, says Crist, "probably the worst of the nine theatrical films and innumerable TV-series episodes" since the original 1943 Lassie Come Home, and considering its plot—two kids faced, in part one alone, with "grandma's illness, a trek from Arizona to California to be dumped on an uncle who dislikes them, grandma's death, separation from Lassie, threats of an orphanage"—well, says Crist, "If I were a collie, I'd sue."

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

Kirshner: Harry Chapin, Tom Chapin, and Steve Chapin (all brothers) are joined by comic Gary Mule Deer and comedy group the New Untouchables. Music: "Taxi."

Special: Performances by R.E.O. Speedwagon, Little River Band, A Taste of Honey, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Climax Blues Band, and the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Highlights include "Keep Pushin" (Speedwagon), "Reminiscing" (Little River Band", "Boogie Oogie Oogie" (Honey).

I don't suppose you'd call the Chapin brothers a "group," but this is a week of groups nonetheless. And when it comes to groups, Special has the best of the offerings. If you don't believe, me, just check out this performance of "Time for Me to Fly" by Speedwagon, and "Boogie Oogie Oogie" by A Taste of Honey. If that doesn't convince you that Special wins the day, nothing will.

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What else is on this week? Well, we've already visited some of the biggest blockbusters of the week, those big-screen movies stretched over into two-part spectaculars, even if their increased running time doesn't justify their increased running time. However, hope remains.

Saturday sees the special one-hour sixth-season premiere of Good Times (8:00 p.m. ET, CBS), the first of a three-part story arc that features the return of Esther Rolle as Florida, the moral foundation of the series. To watch it, you'll have to pass up the second-season premiere of CHiPS (same time, NBC), which remains at an hour but offers up the tantalizing possibility that Jon and Ponch will leave the CHP for a future selling cars. Given that there's nothing in the promo material about the series changing its name, I think we can guess how this turns out. Brianne Leary joins the cast, and the special guest stars are a blast from the past, Troy Donahue and Kaye Stevens. Meanwhile, Captain Stubing finds himself marooned on a desert island after a three-hour cruise—that is, a two-hour season opener that includes the typical cast of stars, but really misses out on the opportunity for a Gilligan's Island reunion. 


We know all about Sunday, with part one of Lassie and part two of King Kong, but we've also got the three-hour premiere of Battlestar Galactica (8:00 p.m., ABC). I don't recall having watched this when it was on, although I could have: I was celebrating my second weekend in the Twin Cities after returning from exile in the World's Worst Town™. Amidst outer space and giant apes, though, there's another contender: the 30th Emmy Awards (8:30 p.m., CBS), hosted by Alan Alda; I know you're excited to find out the big winners, and so I won't keep you in suspense: All in the Family and the NBC miniseries Holocaust were the big winners, taking home six awards each, while The Rockford Files takes home the Best Drama award; however, the biggest award might go to the trio of Carter, Begin, and Sadat, who interrupted the broadcast for 30 minutes to announce the signing of the Camp David agreement.

Then as now, Mondays in the fall can mean only one thing, and that's Monday Night Football. For the season's third week, Frank, Howard and Dandy Don travel to Foxboro, Massachusetts, for the game between the Baltimore Colts, a bad team that used to be good, taking on the New England Patriots, a formerly bad team on the way to being good. (9:00 p.m., ABC) The Colts gallop to a 34-27 victory, but whether or not that's good is up to you. 

With Tuesday dominated by movies (Airport '77 on NBC, The Shootist on CBS), the burden for the night's variety falls on ABC. On Happy Days, a two-part story set in Colorado concludes with Fonzie entering a bull-riding contest to bail out a dude ranch. (8:00 p.m.) If Fonzie hadn't already jumped the shark, I suppose you could have said he's throwing the bull around; either way, it's a long way from the show's origins. Laverne & Shirley follows (8:30 p.m.), with a knock on the head turning Shirley into a stripper named Roxy. Happens all the time, in my experience. Janet and Chrissy take part in a liberation protest at a nude beach on Three's Company (9:00 p.m.); dare we suggest that they were—busted? On Taxi (9:30 p.m.), Tony gets a chance to match wits with a boxing champion, played by world welterweight champion Carlos Palomino. Does Tony get punchy over the encounter? And on Starsky & Hutch (10:00 p.m.), Starsky tries to track down Hutch before he succumbs to a deadly strain of botulism, a plot that leaves me wondering whether this is the most realistic storyline of the evening, or the least.
 
One of the tropes you can almost always count on at the beginning of a new season is the return of an old favorite to a show on which they were once a regular, and such is the case on Wednesday's Charlie's Angels (9:00 p.m., ABC), in which Farrah Fawcett-Majors reprises her role of Jill Munroe, who's somehow involved in trying to prevent the sabotage of a new racing car. We get a special guest star thrown in as part of the bargain, with former world driving champion Jackie Stewart appearing as himself. Call me crazy, but that's what makes this episode worth watching. We're also treated to the first of McLean Stevenson's two failed series this season, In the Beginning (8:30 p.m., CBS), in which he plays the stereotypical conservative priest confronted with a stereotypical liberal nun (Pricilla Lopez) for predictably stereotypical hijinks, which somehow manage to hang on for five, count 'em five, episodes.

Thursday opens with the seventh-season premiere of The Waltons (8:00 p.m., CBS), a special two-hour episode that works in a tribute to the memory of Will Geer (Grandpa), who died in April. It's also the opening of the seventh season for Barnaby Jones (10:00 p.m., CBS), as Buddy Ebsen tries to protect a murder witness targeted for extinction by the bad guys. Gretchen Corbett takes some time off from The Rockford Files to play the damsel in distress. And it's the second-season starter for Family (10:00 p.m., ABC), wtih Quinn Cummings, nominated for an Oscar for The Goodbye Girl, joining the cast.

It's the fourth-season opener for Donny & Marie (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC), which also introduces a new weekly disco segment. K.C. and the Sunshine Band help kick off the festivities, along with Olivia Newton-John and Bob Hope, who—I swear—never met a guest spot on a variety show that he didn't like. Still, it's preferable to the debut of The Waverly Wonders, the show which Larry Hagman passed up—remember?—in favor of Dallas. (8:00 p.m., NBC) In honor of Joe Namath's football background, the show airs for four episodes.

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Finally, in the TV Update, Sally Bedell reports that the Fred Silverman era at NBC may be getting off to a rocky start. Over the last two years, ABC, flush with ratings success, has mounted a concerted effort to win over CBS and NBC affiliates. It was popularly thought that these efforts would be on hold for the time being while the affiliates measured Silverman's impact on the Peacock Network. However, less than three months into his term, the network was rocked by the departure of Minneapolis-St. Paul station KSTP, which announced it would be moving to ABC after 30 years as an NBC affiliate. Despite Silverman's plea to give him six months to turn things around, KSTP's owner, Stanley E. Hubbard, was adamant: "ABC's long-range potential for continuing [its] leadership was the deciding factor. We feel ABC is the strongest management team in broadcasting today."

For KSTP, the move means being able to take advantage of a powerhouse primetime lineup from the nation's number one network; for ABC, it hopes to double the audience of its evening news program, thanks to KSTP's top-rated news programs. For other affiliates considering a change, a network source is quoted as saying, "There is no question that the move will have a psychological impact." Hubbard added that while he didn't doubt that NBC's ratings would go up under Silverman, he didn't think it would happen in six months. Guess again; Silverman never does turn things around at the number three network, and he himself will be gone by 1981, setting up his own successful production company.

Living in the Twin Cities at the time, I remember when all this went down. It was indeed a shock to see KSTP, one of the original NBC affiliates, make the switch, and the surprises didn't end there; it was widely expected that NBC would, in turn, go to KMSP, the now-spurned ABC affiliate, but no—they instead chose WTCN, one of the nation's leading independent stations, leaving KMSP as the odd station out. In the end, they turned out all right; after a successful independent run themselves, they're now a Fox affiliate, with all the rights and privileges included (read: NFL football). Yes, as Carroll O'Connor and Jean Stapleton would say, those were, indeed, the days. TV


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September 12, 2025

Around the dial

CNN


Ready for some lightness in what's been a grim week? Let's start out with Martin Grams and his link to this interview with Mickey Mouse, which I should think would bring a smile or two to many a face out there.

At A View from the Junkyard, Roger looks at the A-Team episode "Labor Pains," which once again demonstrates that unregulated capitalism makes for great bad guys. If that sounds strange coming from me, keep in mind that the best regulation for any kind of -ism, as Whittaker Chambers once pointed out, is that of morality. Whose morality? Well, that's a topic for another day.

Some interesting tidbits over at Television Obscurities include this brief NBC promo for the 1972 Fall Season, as well as some audio from CBS News's dramatic coverage of the funeral of General and former President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1969, an event that marked the further closing of the window to an era.

At the Secret Sanctum of Captain Video, it's a look at "Planet of the Robots," a story from the comic strip adventures of Star Trek, courtesy of the British weekly comic magazine TV Century 21. The story ran in 1969, before the series had even premiered over there.

Commemorations of two different types from Terence at A Shroud of Thoughts: first, the 70th anniversary of The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, the first "adult" television Western; second, the passing of Mark Volman, founding member of The Turtles, who died at age 78. We're all aging at the rate of 60 minutes per hour, but sometimes it seems the clock runs very fast.

At Mavis Movie Madness, Paul pays tribute to actress Polly Holliday, who died earlier this week; she's the wonderful Flo from the sitcom Alice, who then moved on to her own sitcom, a successful show that fell victim to circumstances beyond its control. 

At Cult TV Blog, John takes a look at a genre we don't discuss often enough, the documentary: it's "The Apartheid Killer," an episode of the BBC's Africa Eye series, and it describes the consequences of living in "a community where you have either suffered from crime or have benefitted from it."

And in case you miss my weekly (daily?) promotions, here's a very nice mention of Darkness in Primetime and It's About TV at The Saturday Evening Post, courtesy of friend of the blog Bob Sassone. Now I can say I've appeared in the same magazine as Norman Rockwell!

Also, my latest "Two Minute Author" video is up, and even though I came in at just under four minutes this time, I think you'll like it; it's a look at how the Hollywood Blacklist influenced many of the shows I write about in the book. Directors, writers, and actors were all involved at one time or another, and you can see the effects in the stories and the performances. TV


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

September 10, 2025

Aristophanes comes to Hooterville



What does it mean to be a "classic television historian"? It's a question I've had cause to ask myself during the course of promoting Darkness in Primetime. Back in the day, I coined the term "cultural archaeologist" to describe what I do—in other words, one who looks at the remnants of a particular time in television history and drew conclusions from it that I could relate to our own times, much as an actual archaeologist looks at artifacts and bones and tells us what life was like in 100 B.C. It is often said by historians that it can take decades before one can accurately assess the overall effect of a particular era; therefore, the time should be ripe for us to look at the classic television era (for our purposes, primarily the 1950s through the 1970s) and find out what it tells us about life, and how it's changed (or hasn't changed) in the interval. Television, as much as—if not more than—other sources of the time (history books, newspapers, Time, Life and Newsweek), functions as a sort of time capsule, a description of what life was like then.

This week, what we have on tap is what I like to call a "time capsule moment," when we come across something—a clip from a television show, an article from a magazine—that teaches us a fundamental truth about the era. It happened one morning some time ago, when, while perusing the various classic TV channels on the various Roku/Pluto/Tubi offerings, I ran across an episode of Petticoat Junction. It's been a long time since I watched Junction with any regularity, although thanks to my friend Dan Budnick's excellent book I have more than a passing acquaintance with it. 

The moment in question comes from the series' final season in 1970, an episode called "Susan B. Anthony, I Love You." In it, "Billie Jo returns from Chicago with a visionary zeal for the women's liberation movement, and enlists her sisters in 'the cause.' " It's a product of its time; women's lib is all the rage, no-fault divorce was passed by California the year before, Ms. will start publication the year after, the Equal Rights Amendment is already in the works and will be passed by Congress in 1972. As we join the episode, Billie Jo is in high dudgeon, reciting various statistics illustrating the various states of inequality that exist between women and men, and urging her sisters and Dr. Janet Craig (June Lockhart) to fight. (When Betty Jo says that doesn't sound very "ladylike," Billie Jo reminds her that they're women, not ladies, and that "ladies" is a term coined by men to render women subservient.)*

*Lest you wonder how I was able to amass this kind of detail while only catching a glimpse of the episode, I won't lie to you: I looked it up.

The key line, the one that ensures this episode a spot in the time capsule, is when Billie Jo insists that the way to fight back is to have nothing to do with men: "complete segregation," including sex and marriage. In response, the doubtful Bobbie Jo, replies,  "If we're not going to marry men, who else is there?" The line gets a huge response from the laugh track*, and Billie Jo assures her sister this isn't going to happen, that they're just going to let men know that "we're invading their world."

*Ironic line number one.

If anything, the episode is probably a Hooterville (i.e. G-rated) take on Aristophanes' famous play Lysistrata, in which Greek women withhold sex from their men to force them to stop warring. It's an old and venerable story, one which has been adapted endlessly, and I suspect this had to be at least in the back of the minds of writers Charles Stewart and Dick Conway. (As perhaps a concession to the sign of the times, Dr. Craig asks Billie Jo about what happens to "sex and marriage," subtly suggesting the two might exist separately*.)

*Ironic line number two.

Now, you have to keep in mind that by this time in the series, Bobbie Jo has come to represent, as the always-reliable Wikipedia puts it, the "humorous scatterbrain." In other words, someone who often states the obvious. And in this case, the obvious is reduced to: duh, women marry men. Billie Jo's answer is equally obvious; she doesn't suggest that women marry each other, or live together communally in a community that excludes men. No, it's to get men to accept women as equals, to redefine the relationship rather than eradicate it.

There's no doubt that the institution of marriage had already been battered by the revolution of the '60s; remember the joke about "who wants to live in an institution"? It's an era of free love, of shunning the shackles of marriage in favor of open relationships. Gay rights protests were hardly unknown at the time; Stonewall had happened just the year before.

This tells us a great deal about how marriage is seen in its time. While Dr. Craig's comment does suggest sex can exist outside of marriage, Bobbie Jo's question about who else they could marry—well, it certainly shows that same-sex marriage isn't on anyone's radar screen at the time. It's a punch line, a statement so utterly obvious that it's put in the mouth of the resident scatterbrain to prove its point. It's a perfect representation of popular culture at that moment in time, far more so than picture one might see of a lavish wedding in Life. Second, it tells us something about the fight for equal rights in 1970, the thought that such a revolutionary idea could even come to Hooterville. Even while presenting serious statistics, however, it leavens the moment by leaning heavily on the naivete and earnestness of the equality movement's less dogmatic members. It is, after all, a comedy, not a dramedy.

Again, this is not an essay about politics or moral beliefs; what I'm interested in with this time capsule moment is what it tells us about the culture that conceived and aired it. And in this episode, "Susan B. Anthony, I Love You," Petticoat Junction presents the perfect time capsule moment, the clip that I'd show someone if they asked me what we thought about marriage way back in 1970. TV


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

September 8, 2025

What's on TV? Monday, September 8, 1969



I mentioned Jack Paar in Saturday's piece; he actually appears twice on TV today, promoting tonight's lion special on this morning's Today Show. Also on Today, Leslie Nielsen and Hari Rhodes are on to promote The Protectors, one of the original elements of The Bold Ones. And how about Mary Gallagher? She was Jacqueline Kennedy's social secretary while JFK was president, and she's on to promote her new book, My Life with Jacqueline Kennedy. I'm sure there'll be some news thrown in there between the promotions. It call comes to you courtesy of the Northern California edition.

September 6, 2025

This week in TV Guide: September 6, 1969



Eddie Albert loves to work. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised by that; acting is, after all, a job just like any other, albeit one that pays more than most of us are accustomed to. And Eddie Albert, who has been in the business long enough that he appeared in the first teleplay ever written for television (back in 1936, on W2XBS in New York) and who most assuredly does not need the money, is now enjoying the fruits of that labor, most recently four years as co-star of CBS's hit sitcom Green Acres. Still, in his sixties, one might have expected him to slow down, even just a little. 

He's a man of many means, or perhaps, as Leslie Raddatz points out, there are many Eddie Alberts out there: besides Albert the actor, there is Albert the family man—his most important role, he says; Albert the philosopher, who while he declaims the title, can quote Chardin, Sir Arthur Eddington, Einstein and Gandhi, and was talking about Zen Buddhism "before it became fashionable"; and Albert the compulsive worker, a man in constant motion. "I enjoy doing other shows," he says, "where I can sing or recite serious poetry. The commercials are like that—a chance to do something I’ve never done before. Happiness to me means constant growth. If I see a chance to do something, even if it stinks, I do it. I’m always on the side of action—I just can’t sit on my butt and do Green Acres."

His film career was far from a failure—he was nominated for two Academy Awards for Supporting Actor, and twice more for Golden Globes—but he enjoys television, "the idea of TV's hitting so many people, diverting them for a half-hour from the rather violent world we live in." He enjoys meeting the people who watch him on TV, during the many personal appearances and fairs that he plays during the summer; working on the stage gives him a chance to "try new things, and if they work, you use them when you get back to Hollywood, even if it's just a slight change of expression or the way you smile when you say a line." 

When he's not working in front of the camera, he's often working out, running two or three miles a day in the sand near the modest home he's lived in for the last twelve years, with his wife Margo, to whom he's been married since 1945, and his two children, Maria and Edward, the latter of which will follow his footsteps in acting. Why does he work out? He enjoys it, for one thing; in addition, he's preparing for a summer mountain-climbing expedition in Alaska, and "I didn't want to have to say, 'Wait for me, fellows.' That would have been humiliating, and I don’t like that." He says that he wants to "be able to ru with my kids when I'm 75 years old. I intend to."

He's not the most popular man in Hollywood, which I suspect bothers him not one bit; "We who live and work in Hollywood discuss almost nothing but our work and each other and our fairly cramped lives," he has said, and a friend adds that "He resents having to become involved in things he really isn’t interested in." He is an interesting man; I'll admit that he was never quite my cup of tea, although he's terrific in Green Acres, in which, he says, he plays "one aspect of myself." And maybe that's all we really need to ask of him, a man who loves his work, that he transmits some of that love to us through his performances. As Oliver Wendell Douglas, we can have no complaints.

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With the new television season kicking off next week (including the fabulous T.V. Guide Fall Preview Issue!) the networks frequently offer a special or two to whet our appetites, and this year is no exception. And you can see several of them!

Traditionally, the Miss America Pageant has served as the first major special of the  season, and on Saturday we'll make the trip to Atlantic City for the 49th annual presentation (7:00 p.m. PT, NBC, watch here), with the grandmother of them all putting on a "mod face" to honor this year's theme, "The Sound of Young." (Yeah, that's what it says.) Bert Parks and 1966 Miss America Debbie Bryant are our hosts, and if you can make it through all the modness to the end, you'll see last year's winner, Judith Anne Ford, crown Miss Michigan, Pamela Eldred, as Miss America, 1970. Incidentally, one of the runners-up is Susan Anton, and Eldred will, next year, pass her crown off to Phyllis George.

There's no college football on TV this weekend; the start of the season hasn't yet been bumped up to the middle of August. The pros aren't around either, although you can catch some practice football, which goes under the name of "pre-season" action. That doesn't mean there's no sports to be seen, though: the U.S. Open Tennis Championships wrap up this week in Forest Hills, New York, with the women's final on Saturday at 1:00 p.m., while the men face off Sunday at 11:30 a.m. (CBS) Two great champions walk off with the prizes: Margaret Court wins the women's final over championship over American Nancy Richey, while on the men's side, Rod Laver completes his second Grand Slam, defeating Tony Roche (which you can see here). Laver remains, to this day, the last man to win the Grand Slam, and the only player, male or female, to win it twice.

On Monday, it's The Singers (10:00 p.m., CBS), a "way-out melange of music and comedy" including "wild visual interpretations of perfectly normal tunes," produced by Mel Torme and Bill Foster, and featuring performances by Jack Jones, Michele Lee, Frankie Laine, Cliff Robertson, Bobby Van, Harve Presnell and Gerri Granger, and the Sapphire Thinkers. Like, groovy, man.

Tuesday, CBS takes us back to last year's tumultuous presidential campaign with The Making of the President: 1968 (9:30 p.m.), based on the best-seller by Theodore H. White and written by White, produced by Mel Stuart, and narrated by Joseph Campanella. Looking back on it now, I'm still amazed that the country made it through all that. Conveniently, the book is also a selection of the Literary Guild of America, for which an advertisement appears on the following page.

On Wednesday, Lena Horne takes the spotlight in her first network television special (10:00 p.m., NBC) with guests David Janssen and O.C. Smith; the orchestra is conducted by her husband, Lennie Hayton. It's an all-singing, all-dancing hour, and I have to admit that David Janssen is not the first name that comes to mind when looking at potential special guests for such a special. On the other hand, he did host The Hollywood Palace once, and after spending four years on the run from the law, he probably knows a thing or two about moving quickly on his feet. By the way, next week in this time slot, it's the premiere of Then Came Bronson.

Thursday
's highlights can be found mostly in the past, with reruns of "Fall-Out," the dramatic and controversial final episode of The Prisoner (8:00 p.m., CBS, video here), and "Male of the Species" (8:30 p.m., NBC), a Prudential: On Stage presentation of a trio of plays by Alun Owen that tell stories of the battle of the sexes, starring Paul Scofield, Michael Caine, and Sean Connery as the three men, and Anna Calder-Marshall as the woman each of them pursues. Scofield and Calder-Marshall each won Emmys, and in case the cast doesn't have enough star power for you, the production is hosted and narrated by Sir Laurence Olivier. Here's play one, with links included for the other two.

I mentioned college football earlier; it's the 100th anniversary of college football, and in honor of next week's season opener, sportscaster Chris Schenkel hosts an hour-long documentary on the history of the sport (Friday, 8:00 p.m., ABC), with footage of some of the game's all-time greats, including Red Grange, Don Hutson, Jim Thorpe, and the Four Horsemen. 

Oh, and one more thing about football: the award for the most incomplete story of the year goes to Thursday night's O.J. (8:00 p.m., KTUV), highlighting the career of Heisman Trophy winner O.J. Simpson, and talking about his plans for the future. When asked about those plans, Simpson reportedly replied, "I plan on breaking a few records, and then going into television and commercials, where I expect to make a killing. Or two."

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The new season may be just around the corner, but NBC and ABC are rolling out their new Saturday morning lineups, a mixture of old friends and new faces—or something like that. I was never able to get into some of these new cartoons; I was always a Bugs Bunny/Road Runner fan myself. I'm sure, though, that some of these titles will bring back fond memories for you. Forthwith, a look at the new lineups, along with my observations:

ABC, by virtue of the alphabet, comes first, and their new shows include:
  • Smokey Bear (7:30 a.m. PT): Cartoon adventures of the fire-preventing bear. (Adding new stories to the canon, because how many fire-prevention stories are there?)
  • Cattanooga Cats (8:00): Animated rock-music cats host this cartoon series. (And who can possibly resist a rock group comprised of cats?)
  • Hot Wheels (9:00): Cartoon adventures of young, responsible auto enthusiasts. (Driving cars that look remarkably like those you can find in the store.)
  • The Hardy Boys (9:30): Animated series based on the Hardy boys mystery books. (Because Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stevenson aren't quite ready for prime-time yet.)
  • Sky Hawks (10:00): Animated aerial adventures of the Wilson family. (See also: Sky King, with his niece Penny.)
Not to be outdone, here's what the Peacock Network has in store, a lineup that includes one certifiable classic:
  • Heckle and Jeckle (7:00): Cartoons with the know-it-all magpies. (A blast from the past, and as I recall these are reruns from the show that ran Saturday mornings on CBS from 1956 to 1966.)
  • Here Comes the Grump (8:00): Animated adventures of a boy and his dog in a fantasy land. (I don't know why I remember the theme to this cartoon, but since I do, I must have watched it.)
  • The Pink Panther (8:30): Cartoons with the internationally known pussycat. (An instant classic that has held up remarkably well, along with "The Inspector" and "The Ant and the Aardvark" features.)
  • H.R. Pufnstuf (9:00): Jack Wild, the Artful Dodger of Oliver!, stars as Mimmy in this fanciful series about a boy's escapades on a magic island. (It says here that Pufnstuf is a dragon. I was never sure of that. A show that lives on, nonetheless.)
  • Jambo (10:30): Marshall Thompson (Daktari), aided by Judy the Chimp, narrates this series of live-action animal stories produced by Ivan Tors. (Yes, but without Cheryl Miller? Not to mention Clarence.)
CBS kicks off its Saturday schedule next week, but no fear: on Sunday, Sebastian Cabot, Anissa Jones, and Johnnie Whitaker host The Funtastic Show (7:30 p.m.), an advance look at the network's new offerings, including Dastardly & Muttley in Their Flying MachinesThe Perils of Penelope Pitstop, and Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! Looking at some of these titles, maybe it was a Golden Age of Saturday morning cartoons after all.

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Some odds and ends from the Teletype this week: 
  • Frank Sinatra returns for his annual television special on CBS November 12. (It eventually airs on November 5. This one is just Frank, with no guests, and isn't that about all you need?
  • Bing Crosby's annual Christmas special airs on NBC this year, after four years of Christmas shows on ABC's Hollywood Palace. Although it isn't mentioned, Bing's special guest is Carol Burnett; Roy Clark and Juliet Prowse also appear.
  • Six episodes of Tom Jones's series will be taped in Hollywood this season rather than London. "Tickets to a Jones taping session—or even a dress rehearsal—are as hard to get as Lawrence Welk ducats. And that's where the comparison stops." 
  • Ed Sullivan's season opener falls on his 67th birthday, September 28. Helping Ed celebrate are Barbra Streisand, Red Skelton, and the Temptations. Unknown at the time: it's Ed's next-to-last season opener.
In other insider news, Richard K. Doan reports that the Smothers Brothers have been reduced to making guest appearances and local-station syndication after being sacked by CBS. The episode that the network refused to air last spring is being sold to individual stations for broadcast (Wednesday, 8:00 p.m., KTXL), while the brothers hope to produce a series of specials for first-run syndication. Tom appeared with Merv Griffin last month, and the duo join Glen Campbell for his season premiere. 

And FCC Commissioner Nicholas Johnson, the closest thing the government has to a loose cannon (this side of Spiro Agnew, anyway), had plenty to say on a recent Dick Cavett show. Referring to a bill that would eliminate the three-year renewal cycle of TV and radio station licenses, Johnson called it "the final takeover by the broadcasters," and added that while it might be too late to stop, the public ought to know "what it is that’s about to happen to them in Washington as they sell off their democratic rights to the broadcasting industry." A visibly nervous Cavett asked Johnson, "if he had anything else he'd like to get off his chest," to which Johnson replied, "My thesis is that television can’t stand truth. It can’t stand reality."

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Speaking of talk shows, this really is something of a Golden Age for the genre. As opposed to the vapidity of late-night talkers and the celebrity-obsessed daytimers, we see a succession of shows that frequently combine entertainment with some quality conversation.

We're in the era when all three networks have their late-night shows. Johnny Carson still rules the roost, of course, and among the king's guests this week are Alan King, Jacqueline Susann, Charlie Callas, Robert Merrill, and Bob and Ray. Johnny's opposition on ABC is Joey Bishop, who welcomes Barbara McNair, Ross Martin, Anthony Newley, and Louis Prima. Not to be outdone, over on CBS, Merv Griffin has Dr. Sam Sheppard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Sen. Edmund Muskie, Steve Lawrence, Erroll Garner, and Jimmy Dean. Gotta give Merv the edge for the week. 

But that's not all! Dick Cavett hasn't yet taken over Bishop's late-night slot, but his thrice-weekly show (Monday, Tuesday, and Friday, 10:00 p.m., ABC) has its share of stars, with Johnny Mathis, Robert Young, Ralph Nader, and California's Democratic party leader Jesse Unruh.

During the daytime, Steve Allen's talk-comedy series (9:30 a.m., KOVR) has Diana Trask, Bill Dana, O.C. Smith, Anna Maria Alberghetti, and the Ike and Tina Turner Review. There's old standby Mike Douglas (airing at 3:00 p.m. on KPIX and 4:00 p.m. on KXTV); his co-host for the week is Doug McClure, and his guests include Monte Markham, Diana Trask (again!), Lily Tomlin, and Pearl Buck. Meanwhile, David Frost's guests for the week (4:30 p.m., KPIX) include Chet Huntley, Burt Reynolds, Arthur Ashe, Dr. Joyce Brothers, Sugar Ray Robinson, Averell Harriman, and Stiller and Meara.

Finally, in the late-late-night spots, Joan Rivers has Sam Levenson, Brenda Vaccaro, Soupy Sales, and Kay Thompson. Finally, Hugh Hefner's weekly show (Friday, 1:00 a.m., KCRA) features Gore Vidal, Mort Sahl, Morgana King, John Hartford and hypnotist Pat Collins. 

Now, you may not recognize all the names I've listed; I could look them up for you, but it won't hurt if you check them out yourself. The point is that most of the names are familiar, and those that aren't are still important people in the worlds of entertainment, news, or politics. And I'd say that the weekly lineup for any of them beats what we have today.

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However, there's one legendary talk show host you won't find on weekly television anymore but who makes an appearance this week nonetheless: Jack Paar, who continued to appear in a series of occasional specials after leaving the regular grind on NBC. On Monday night (8:00 p.m.), Jack Paar and His Lions presents Jack and, well, some lions, including his pet lion Amani, who lives with Paar and his family in Paar's 13-room house (and once accompanied Paar's daughter Randy to college). He also looks at the journey of the three offspring from the lions featured in Born Free, en route from Kenya to their new home at Lion Country Safari in Florida. Paar, who wrote, narrated, and partially photographed the special, is well-known for his love of lions and other wild animals, having gone on safari in Africa, and is thoroughly in his element here.

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MST3K alert: The Amazing Colossal Man (1957) After being burned in a plutonium explosion, an Army colonel starts growing at the rate of 10 feet per day. Glenn Langan, Cathy Downs, William Hudson, James Seay, Larry Thor, Frank Jenks, Russ Dender, Lyn Osborn, Diana Darrin, William Hughes. (Saturday, 1:00 p.m., KGO in San Francisco) Admit it; you'd be plenty teed off too if you'd been transformed, through no fault of your own, into a 70-foot giant. Unfortunately, since the rights to use the movie expired, you can no longer see the MST3K version except on YouTube. However, you can catch the unwanted, unasked-for sequel, War of the Colossal Beast, with a completely different cast. Take it from me: if you've seen one colossal man, you've seen them all.  TV


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September 5, 2025

Around the dial



At The Twilight Zone Vortex, Jordan continues his examination of the show's final season with "The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross," an better-than-average episode improved by stellar performances from Don Gordon and Gail Kobe.

A double-dose of Brit TV begins at Cult TV Blog, with John's take on "The Classroom," an episode of the little-remembered and difficult to categorize anthology series The Frighteners. I always enjoy his looks at these obscure series, because I'm always on the lookout for interesting new shows to check out.

Continuing across the pond, at Comfort TV, David looks at Department S, which is a cross between, what—Murder, She Wrote, The Avengers, and James Bond? If that inexact comparison is enough to whet your appetite, I urge you to check out the series.

At A Shroud of Thoughts, Terence invites us to view the intriguing UPN series Nowhere Man, which premiered 30 years ago. It's the story of a documentary photographer, played by Bruce Greenwood, who finds that his entire life has been "erased" from everyone's memory, except for his. Interested?

That's just one of many series celebrating anniversaries over the next few weeks, which makes sense given September is the month when most series used to premiere. Television Obscurities has a comprehensive list of those shows; see how many of them you remember from back when.4

At A View from the Junkyard, Roger's retrospective on The A-Team brings us to "The Taxicab Wars," a delightful episode that's just as much fun to watch today as it was when it originally aired, and for classic TV fans, that's often a relief.

And it just wouldn't be Friday without a little self-promotion from yours truly, right? My latest edition of the "Two Minute Author" (which only runs for three-and-a-half minutes this time) looks at David Karp's 1955 drama "One," and how a classic TV historian manages to write about an episode that no longer exists.


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September 3, 2025

The running men



From The Fugitive to The Immortal, Run for Your Life to Run Buddy Run, classic television has told the stories of people on the run—from the law, from criminals, from death itself. The Fugitive was praised for its decision to bring to an end the premise which had sustained the series for four seasons; in this era of closed-loop storytelling, which suggests that every series contains an overall arc with a beginning, a middle and an end, it’s difficult to imagine a series that doesn’t provide some type of closure—"The Day the Running Stopped." The notable exception to this, of course, is the final episode of The Sopranos, which ends with an abrupt cut to black, and leaves the viewer forever in the dark as to what happens next. Considering the hue and cry accompanying that ending, it's probably unlikely we’ll ever see an ending like that again, or at least one left open to so many possibilities.

In a way, though, there’s something fitting about those series for which no end is provided. I’m not suggesting they do this intentionally; usually, the decision is made for them, in the form of low ratings, stars ready to move on, or recalcitrant network executives. Still, it seems to me that perhaps leaving things open-ended isn’t really such a bad idea, at least in some instances. It forces both the show's viewers and its creators to consider the existential implications of life, and how their characters fit into that scheme. Viewers, for instance, are left to fill in the blanks after the ending of a show like The Sopranos, and in doing so, they not only display their perspective on what the show was all about, they also reveal a great deal about themselves and their own way of thinking: their values, their moral convictions, their philosophy of life. 

And what do those shows themselves tell us? In providing for an end to the four-season odyssey of Richard Kimble, Quinn Martin was following in the footsteps of Route 66, which also provided for an end to the journey—at least for Tod, when he decided it was time to settle down and marry Barbara Eden. (Smart man!) That suggests our heroes were not so much running away from something, as running toward something. Tod finds that, or at least thinks he has, but we’re not sure about Linc, let alone Buz. The question remains, though: if they were running toward life, toward something that they perhaps can’t define but will recognize when they see it, what are they running away from? A life without hope, without meaning, a boring, 9-to-5 job that provides security, whereas the adrenaline that is the spice of life comes from insecurity?*

*You could include Then Came Bronson in that discussion as well. And then, as someone pointed out to me, there's The Incredible Hulk, that most melancholic of superhero series, in which our tragic hero David Banner finds himself in a dual race, running not only from the pursuing journalist, but from himself as well.

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Is The Immortal really running away from his pursuers, or is he running away from the burden of being immortal? The setup of having the hero pursued by the heavy was not only exceedingly conventional, it was probably necessary in order to get the show on the air. But there’s a twist to the convention: Ben Richards is useless to Jordan Braddock if he’s dead; Richards must be kept alive in order to produce the rare blood that enables him to cheat death, the blood that Braddock wants. If the implication is that Braddock wants to keep Richards alive, then it also follows that by running from Braddock’s henchman Fletcher, Richards is also running from eternity, or at least natural eternity. One could say that he is running from a false life, running toward death, or the possibility of death, which is the only way a man can truly feel alive. Think of this series in another way, one which probably never would make it to television, but is intriguing nonetheless: Ben Richards, unable to experience death in a natural way and unwilling to take his own life (because he still has scruples) dedicates his life to taking outrageous risks for the purpose of helping others. It could be anything from climbing a tree to rescue an old woman’s cat to dashing into a flaming house to rescue a small child. Perhaps he takes on the mob to save the life of a young man who’s fallen into debt, or offers himself as a human hostage to prevent an international incident. There are an endless number of ways to risk your own life, after all, and if you can’t do something good with the life you’ve been given, what good is it? 

I think you get the picture here. The most existential question of all is that of the meaning of life; while Dr. Richard Kimble hoped to get his life back after being exonerated of the murder of his wife, his real-life counterpart, Dr. Sam Sheppard, was never able to recover what had been his, and stumbled through years of wrestling professionally and drinking heavily before meeting a premature death. Sam Sheppard could not return to the life he once lived—but having died as a man, he continues to live as a legal precedent, and if that precedent (Sheppard v. Maxwell) makes a difference in the lives of others, perhaps even saving the lives of others by ensuring them a fair trial, could he be said to have died at all—or did he, in some mysterious way, experience the suffering of a life lost in order to provide life to others? Does that make him any different from our alternate version of Ben Richards? And what hope does that give Dr. Kimble? Unlike Sheppard, he was able to continue interacting with others during his journey, rather than spending years in prison—will the life of a successful pediatrician still appeal to him? 

Perhaps the most profound lesson we can learn is from the story of Paul Bryan, the protagonist of Run for Your Life. Like Kimble, he is running for his life, but whereas Kimble is trying to escape the death house, Bryan is attempting to outrun the disease that will claim his life in two or three years. We don’t see how his race ends; there was much derision over a series about a man with two years to live running for three seasons, but remember: television doesn’t measure time in the same way that calendars do. (Otherwise, M*A*S*H never would have lasted as long as it did—or the Korean War would have lasted a lot longer.) And, in fact, we never know what happens to Paul Bryan. Since Run for Your Life ends without an episode wrapping up all the loose ends, we don’t know for a fact that Bryan actually dies. His doctor did tell him to stay in contact, that advances in medical science are being made all the time. It’s unlikely, perhaps, but it could be that Paul Bryan beats the odds, that he hangs on long enough for his doctors to provide him with the treatment that cures him of his fatal illness. And then what? Having finally learned how to live a life of gusto (he’d told his doctor he hadn’t had a day off since law school), does he return to the world of a corporate lawyer, or does he continue living a life of adventure, as a latter-day Hemingway? And will he find the extra years he’s been given as satisfying as those years he’d lived when he had nothing to lose, and therefore everything to gain? Given time, would he have traded places with Ben Richards, living with an antibody that would likely have prevented his fatal illness, if it meant he wouldn’t have learned how to really live? That’s an interesting question.

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The world today can often seem like a patient in extremely critical condition, but too stubborn to ask for the Last Rites. Under such circumstances, who wouldn't look to run? (Unless you're one of the ones causing the problems in the first place, in which case you're not only running, you want to bring everyone and everything along with you.) Trying to predict the future is often a fool's errand, and anyone looking for certainties right now is certain only of being a fool. 

In a sense, these running men are trying to both escape from and head toward the same thing simultaneously, as if they were caught on an endless treadmill comprised of an existential mobius strip. By ending the series without a conclusion, or leaving the viewer uncertain as to the rest of the story, the showrunners ensuring that everything will always be just out of reach; the man freed from punishment, the man free to experience death, the man hoping for a second act he hadn't realized he wanted. It is life that they seek, it is life from which they run. And that's appropriate, because after all, can we ever really escape what we’re running from? Can we ever truly arrive at what we’re running toward? In a way, the running never stops, and never can; we're all on a treadmill to eternity, running toward a goal we'll never reach. The second we reach the future it becomes the present, and the next second it becomes part of the past. Sportscaster Sid Collins famously said that we all speed toward death at the rate of 60 minutes every hour; we speed toward the future in the same way, but like death, we'll never truly experience it for ourselves. 

And that's why some answers are better left unsaid, and why it might not be so bad for a television series to end while leaving the question unanswered. For that unanswered question is the exploration of life itself, and what it means to be fully present in that life—as a participant, not merely an observer. 

In the meantime, we keep running, always running. TV


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