Frank De Blois takes the opportunity of this momentous occasion to examine just what it is about the enduring popularity of The Honeymooners. Just what is it that attracts people to "the big, fat, bug-eyed fellow" who perpetually threatens to send his wife "to the moon." And what does it say about us, that we seem to revel in the story? According to a Mrs. Ruth Wassell, the chief psychiatric social worker at the University Settlement House, New York Psychiatric Clinic (who counts herself among Gleason's many fans), it's "a classic example of an expression of animal impulses to which many of us sometimes regress. These impulses are rarely carried out, but they are present nevertheless." She cites the very young child, who, "to assert himself in an adult’s terrifying world, hits, bites and scratches those he loves most dearly and yet expects continued acceptance and love in spite of this behavior."
A "prominent" (but unnamed) psychiatrist believes that these impulses are deeply embedded in the consciousness, reflecting "the idea that wives are all-powerful and that husbands are mere pawns. Men subconsciously resent this state of affairs and, quite naturally, are delighted when Ralph Kramden threatens to release the pent-up hostility of his sex. Wives, on the other hand, are secretly delighted at what they interpret as visual proof of their superiority in the age-old war between men and women." That battle of the sexes, of course, stretches back to the days of Samson and Delilah, Othello and Desdemona, Petruchio and Katharine, and Clytemnestra and Agamemnon. (Who says these TV Guide articles aren't classy?)
Before anyone gets too excited about this expression of animalistic passion, the doctor stresses that in a well-adjusted male, such aggressive reactions are "symbolic rather than actual. No decent fellow really wants to hit his wife—he is indeed horrified by the thought—but in the average male heart is the desire to be supreme in the family circle." He speculates that the popularity of The Honeymooners would unlikely follow the show if it were exported to countries such as France, Germany, Italy, or in the Baltics and Scandinavia, "where the man already is the undisputed boss of the home." "[T]he American male has a feeling he is being submerged by his mate and that he recognizes his own submersion in Ralph Kramden’s comic exasperation."
*Indeed, when Sheila MacRae took over the role of Alice for the Honeymooners revival in the late 1960s, one of the complaints regarding her performance was that she wasn't "mean" enough to Ralph.
This analysis actually fits in quite well with how other sitcoms of the 1950s tended to view the domesticated male. One of the unique aspects of Father Knows Best, as we saw a few weeks ago, was its portrayal of the patriarch as something other than "a dim-wit." As Robert Young said in that story, "We didn’t want a father who was always blowing his top, or a mother who dominated her husband, or kids who were so smart that they made their folks look like morons. And we particularly didn’t want Pop to fall off a ladder or down a flight of stairs every week."
This is, one might notice, quite at odds with today's talk of "toxic masculinity" and the perception, driven by tracts such as The Handmaid's Tale, that portray America as a patriarchy that is oppressive, aggressive, abusive, and dismissive of women as little more than baby-making tools to be kept in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. Indeed, there are those who would suggest that the women's equality movement has stripped women of the dominant role they once held, "that wives are all-powerful and that husbands are mere pawns." Now, I'll leave further discussion of all this to the social scientists; I've probably already made more trouble for myself than I want. Certainly, nobody is pretending that domestic violence hasn't always been present—indeed, taken for granted and accepted—for generations. I've known too many women myself who've been victims of such behavior. And I'm not above the idea that this discussion could well be more a reflection of distorted times than an accurate assessment of psychological drivers.
But if it's true that classic television, as I've long asserted, portrays a more accurate picture of mid-century American life than many believe, then one can't rule out the possibility that such is the case here as well: that, as De Blois concludes, "Ralph and Alice Kramden, it appears, are just doing what comes naturally."
l l l
There's a lot more to that, of course. It gave many of us our first glimpses of some of the studio's most famous animated shorts, including those featuring Mickey (who appeared in every episode, voiced by Walt Disney himself). And Annette wasn't the only famous Mousketeer; Bobby Burgess, who appeared in the entire run of the show, would go on to The Lawrence Welk Show (which was already a regular part of ABC's schedule when this issue came out), Johnny Crawford (who'd go on to The Rifleman), Don Agrati (who, as Don Grady, would be one of the stars of My Three Sons), and others. The Head Mousketeer and host of the show was Jimmie Dodd, who displayed a deft touch working with the youngsters, and his "Doddisms" emphasized strong moral values—you know, the kinds of things that kids don't hear much anymore on television, or anywhere else for that matter.
Revivals of The Mickey Mouse Club have been, to put it kindly, a bit of a letdown from the original. The 1989-94 edition, in particular, produced its share of stars, including Keri Russell, Christina Aguilera, Ryan Gosling, Britney Spears, and Justin Timberlake, but, my goodness, some of them have gone on to troubled lives, haven't they? As for the message contained in the show, it's far from the uplifting and inspiring tone of the fifties version; one could say the same thing about Disney as a whole. My friend Ed McCray has written extensively about contemporary Disney's campaign to erase the history of the company, eliminating anything that even hints at traditional or faith-based values. It's painful to consider what it's become, even as it's a joy to revisit what it was. But then, if you're a regular reader here, you know you're not hearing anything new from me.
l l l
On Sunday, it's the debut of one of the greatest mystery series in television history, Alfred Hitchcock Presents (9:30 p.m., CBS). Although Hitch was already a well-known director (his three movies prior to the debut of the series were Dial M. for Murder, Rear Window, and To Catch a Thief), his droll appearances before and after each story transformed him into a celebrity, one whose weekly vignettes became as highly anticipated as the dramas themselves. Who, among those of us who've seen the series, can forget its theme, "Funeral March of a Marionette" by Gounod? In fact, I'll bet even people who haven't seen the series probably recognize it, along with the famous profile caricature of Hitchcock, who's silhouette would walk into it at the beginning of each episode. Although Hitch only directed 17 episodes, almost every one reflects the tenor and sensibility of a Hitchcock movie. By the time the series ended in 1965, it had run for ten seasons (the last three with a run time of an hour) and 361 total episodes; it was, at the time, the longest-running anthology series in television history. And, as most of you probably know, Hitchcock used the crew from his show to film Psycho, which they accomplished for under a million dollars. These people knew their stuff.
l l l
Just as there are notable beginnings this week, there are also endings, and Sunday gives us the final episode of the storied Philco Television Playhouse (9:00 p.m., NBC), one of the truly great anthology series of the Golden Age; the farewell episode is Robert Allan Aurthur's "A Man is Ten Feet Tall," starring Don Murray and Sidney Poitier. I wrote extensively about the controversies surrounding this production a few months ago (as a reminder, you can see the broadcast here), and it has to be one of the satisfying aspects of the story that the many Southerners who threatened to never watch the show were out of luck; given that it was the final show of the series, their threats were so much sound and fury, signifying nothing. It must have been terribly disappointing for them to have nothing to boycott.
Monday sees the return of three popular CBS sitcoms, Burns & Allen (8:00 p.m.), I Love Lucy (9:00 p.m.) and December Bride (9:30 p.m.). Meanwhile, Robert Montgomery Presents (9:30 p.m., NBC) has what could well serve as the pilot for the 1960s series My World and Welcome to It. It's the James Thurber story "Mr. and Mrs. Monroe," starring Edward Andrews as the meek husband, Mr. Monroe, and Augusta Dabney as his "skeptical" wife. John Monroe is, as you probably know, the name of the character that William Windom will so memorably play in that underrated 1969-70 series.
We should notice Tuesday's episode of Warner Bros. Presents (7:30 p.m., ABC) if for no other reason than it's the series that first brought Warner Bros. into television production. It's what would come to be known as a wheel show, with three rotating series: Kings Row, based on the 1942 movie that featured one of Ronald Reagan's best-known roles (his agonized line "Where's the rest of me?" would serve as the title of his first autobiography), which is tonight's attraction; Casablanca, based on—well, I think you know what movie that's based on, although it's missing Bogart and Bergman; and the third element, the only one that would survive on its own after the series is cancelled, Cheyenne, starring Clint Walker. Cheyenne is known not only for being a success in its own right, but for being the first hour-long television drama, featuring a regular cast, to be renewed for a second season. Up until then, hour-long dramas had primarily been the province of anthologies, one of which is Pontiac Playwright Hour (9:30 p.m., NBC), a brand-new series which will alternate in this timeslot with the better-known Armstrong Circle Theatre. Tonight's story is "The Answer," starring Paul Douglas and Nina Foch, an unsettling story about an Army general who discovers that an angel has been shot down and mortally wounded during the Army's latest nuclear bomb experiments. Boy, I'd like to track down this one.
Another studio enters the television game on Wednesday, as The 20th Century-Fox Hour (7:00 p.m., CBS) premieres with Noel Coward's play "Cavalcade," starring Merle Oberon and Michael Wilding, and hosted by Joseph Cotton. It's an adaptation of the Oscar-winning Best Picture of 1933, and I think it's notable that the script is adapted by Alistair Cooke and Peter Packer. We all know Cooke, of course, and many of you probably know that Packer was the author of, among other things, 25 episodes of Lost in Space. The series runs for two seasons, and may be familiar to you from its syndicated title, Hour of Stars, which we see often in the pages of TV Guide.
We'll wrap up the week with a couple of additional returning favorites: the sitcom Mama (8:00 p.m., CBS), which ran for eight seasons with Peggy Wood as the titular character, and a very young Dick Van Patten as eldest son Nels. That's followed by Our Miss Brooks (8:30 p.m., CBS), with Eve Arden as everyone's favorite English teacher, the sardonic Connie Brooks, and Gale Gordon as her nemesis, Principal Conklin. It's also the premiere of a series some of you may have seen in syndicated reruns, Crossroads (8:30 p.m., ABC), the religious anthology series that ran for a couple of seasons, and, like so many religious programs of the day, consistently featured appearances by well-known (or soon to be well-known) actors. Heaven forbid they would show up today.
l l l
What I find interesting about these games, from a television perspective, is their starting time. The weekend games from Brooklyn started at 8:45 a.m. on Saturday and 9:45 a.m. on Sunday, while the two New York games each began at 8:45 a.m. Given that we're in the Pacific Time Zone, that still seems awfully early to start the World Series; it suggests that the games began at noon or 1:00 p.m., depending on the date, when in fact a look at the record books finds that the weekend games actually started at 1:00 and 2:00 p.m. Eastern time, while the Monday-Tuesday contests began at 1:00 p.m. This makes for a five-hour time discrepancy, not the four hours we'd expect. What accounts for the one-hour difference? Well, I was curious about that; did TV Guide get the start times wrong? (Horrors!) As it turns out, while we can't be certain, it appears that Portland (the home of this week's issue) returned to Standard Time on September 25, before the start of the Series, while New York City didn't switch back until October 30.* Hence, since Portland had already "fallen back," the five-hour difference. Aren't you glad you know that?
*The administration of Daylight Saving Time was something of a Wild West situation back then, with each state—and often even individual jurisdictions within states—having their own rules for when DST started and stopped, if it was observed at all.
The 1955 Series is popularly known as the one in which "next year" finally came; the teams had met in four previous Series over the course of the past eight years, with the Yankees winning each time, often in dramatic fashion; after each defeat, the Dodgers and their fans would cry, "Wait Until Next Year!" They almost had to reprise the motto this year; in the bottom of the sixth inning, with the Yankees trailing 2-0 but having runners on first and second and one out, Yankees catcher Yogi Berra slugged a fly ball down the left field line, which was caught by Sandy Amoros (one of the most famous catches in World Series history), who then started a double play to end the inning. The Dodgers held on to that 2-0 lead to take the Series, four games to three—their only World Series championship while in Brooklyn. However, as we know from last year, it would not be the last time the Dodgers would defeat the Yankees in the Fall Classic. 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!
No comments
Post a Comment
Thanks for writing! Drive safely!