Retro TV

Ok, I absolutely hate this ad, but Valerie Bertinelli is lookin’ fine in this commercial that came out recently.

And no, by no means is the inclusion of this ad spot in any way recommending the Jenny Craig program (unless there is some sort of compensation included — hey, if Val’s gettin’ paid, so should I).

Still, our little formerly rotund Valerie Ex-Van Halen is doing a world of good for Jenny Craig. So much better than that Kristie Alley, crazy and chubby.

Much like how we all just naturally gravitated toward Barbara rather than Julie, it is scientifically proven that Valerie Bertinelli is immensely likeable, and therefore the superior spokesperson for a diet plan. Obese people don’t want to be called fat, they want to see someone sweet and cute lose weight before their eyes in pleasing surroundings rather than what is maybe supposed to be Kirstie Alley’s princess telephone room.

And thanks to the interwebs, you can follow Valerie’s weight-loss journey. She’s blogging about it. Blogging? Please. Why would anyone really care enough to read something written not by Valerie Bertinelli, but someone in the marketing department. It’s obvious because of all the damn product placement. That is not a blog. Blogs are written by loners in their pyjamas that watch far too much television, not former child stars…oh, wait, maybe there is some room for cross-over.

Anyhoo, I think it is great that Valerie is losing all that weight, though truth be told, she still looked good a little chubby. Could this weight loss success story be a stepping stone back onto network television? The girl hasn’t worked consistently since 2003’s last season of Touched by an Angel (which I never watched nor plan to).

Valerie Bertinelli, One Day at a Time, Jenny Craig, weight loss, Kirstie Alley, Touched by an Angel

This episode of Maude, “Like Mother, Like Daughter” opens with — wow, a surprise — Maude and Carol are bickering about Carol’s love life. Despite the theme, Florida adds some nice levity to the scene. The back-and-forth between Bea Arthur and Adrienne Barbeau is starting to feel a bit more natural as well now that the ladies are getting their sea-legs in the fourth episode of the first season.

However, this time Maude may have a point. Carol is about to go out with an “older…correction, old man” and Maude had dated him in the past before marrying Walter. Double-whammy. Maude is concerned that Carol is too dumb to know when she is the May in the May-December relationship, and this man, Russell Asher, is a novelist and totally self-absorbed. Maude is adorable in her “concern.” But whatever, this guy is loaded, so I say go for it, Carol.

Carol is wearing these weird hair clips that they used in the olden days as curlers or something. She is also wearing a body-hugging burgundy dress…growl. Adrienne Barbeau must have been the shit back then because she keeps getting these odd super soft-focus close ups.

Joke of the show: Maude explains to Walt that man also go through menopause, “they just haven’t had the bad press we women have had.”

Maude is equally charming when Russel arrives. And wow, this is a 70-year-old man — yowza! His suit alone is enough to make me forget my no-one-over-60 rule. Russell Asher is played by this guy, Cesare Danova, and I can swear I have seen him in something before, but if you check out his imdb page, he’s been in just about every old show out there, going back to The Rifleman and Daniel Boone and including McMillan & Wife, Mannix, Charlie’s Angels — and then I see it, Animal House. Bingo. He’s the mayor.

Russel and Carol are flying into NYC to tape the Tonight Show. NYC? Surely, that is a mistake…Carson taped in LA. Ah, true, Carson did tape in LA, but for the first ten years of the Tonight Show, he taped in New York. The Tonight Show moved out west May 1972, a few months after the airing of this episode. But I digress. Carol is going to Russell’s place in the city to watch the airing of the Carson show as they call it. Maude points it out to Walter that most people watch Carson in the bedroom. Florida confirms the sexual intent of Carol’s visit, as she took her toothbrush with her.

Next morning, and flowers arrive for Carol, who didn’t get in until 4 am and still hasn’t come down for breakfast. Maude was up, so she knows and frets. Walt is wondering why his parents had eggs every morning, but he is not allowed. Maude points out that his parents ate breakfast before they knew about cholesterol. Ha ha, a joke about the times and the new medical research.

Carol finally comes downstairs and she is totally over Russell Asher. She is defensive and evasive about the sudden change of heart, but Maude keeps goading her until she blurts out that Russell called her Maude’s name.

Bea Arthur’s slow turn to face the camera is priceless. Seriously, she is a goddess of comedy. Maude is genuinely happy about this turn of events, and she tells Walt about her triumph. Walt gets a bit jealous. Russell arrives, and Maude is precious in her arrogance around him, thinking that he still holds a torch for her.

But alas, the truth comes out. Carol called Russell out on his bigger-than-Hemingway ego, and he calls her Maude as in you are just like your mother while they are fighting. As Maude processes this, Carol figures out that Maude assumed that Russell called out her name while Carol and he were gettin’ it on. This brings Carol pleasure, as her mom is humbled.

But this little episode has brought Maude and Carol a little closer together, and that is kinda cute. This show is growing on me. Except for the weird little codas at the end of the episodes. In this one, Maude is freaking out on Walter, chasing him downstairs and waking Carol. Walt called Maude Sylvia. Kinda lame, and over done. But other than that, a very good episode.

Maude, Bea Arthur, Adrienne Barbeau, Cesare Danova, Tonight Show, sitcom, television, retro tv

Ooh, I smell yet another spin-off…

But before we get off-track and start talking about Good Times, let’s join our on-going exploration of the 1972-1978 Norman Lear sitcom, Maude, starring the now late Bea Arthur. This is the third episode of the first season, “Maude Meets Florida.”

The phones rings, and Maude has to explain to the caller on the other end that no, she is not Mr. Findlay. Mr. Findlay has a much higher voice. Ah, love it. Maude/Bea Arthur sounds like a man. That’s the second episode in which Maude’s baritone has been the butt of a joke. It’s so good to see an actress with so little ego as Arthur.

Maude can be expecting a Mrs. Evans. Hmm, Evans…Florida Evans. Good Times…

Seems Maude has insisted that everyone is up and atom early to get the house ready for an interview for a new housekeeper. Ha, she cleans the house to interview a housekeeper. Tricks-y Maude. Make her think that there won’t be a lot of work. Joke’s on the housekeeper.

Carol was out until four a.m. the previous night, and Maude wants to know who and how far they went. Well, Maude didn’t ask her that, but Carol assumes that Maude wants to know this stuff. Finally, Carol points out the absurdity of cleaning the house for a new “maid.” Carol also asks if the housekeeper (Maude doesn’t use the word maid) will be black. Maude only likes to hire black housekeeper to ease her liberal guilt.

And it is Florida Evans from Good Times. Esther Rolle is a goddess, in my opinion. Maude insists on Mrs. Evans calling them Maude and Carol, and wouldn’t you know it, Mrs. Evans likes to be called Mrs. Evans.

Maude is crazy. She’s all over-friendly, and over-analytical in terms of how a minority feels about life. Florida explains how she got her name, stealing the scene, and Maude finds instant kinship, as it underscores her liberal credentials.

The back-and-forth between Maude and Walter is good in this episode. An example of a line — Maude to Walter: “There is a thin line between love and hate…and you’re erasing it.”

Maude starts going on about Florida’s new “family” and “home.” Florida is all like, bitch, I got a family and a home. And her first week is a trial — for the Findlays. Maude doesn’t get it, and keeps up her “I’m down with the modern negro.” Seriously, Maude, seriously.

Next week, Walt is accusing Florida of nipping his gin. He’s not racist; he just doesn’t trust maids. Maude has been keeping Florida busy, but not cleaning — shopping and talking, being friends, you know. And the gin…Maude tells Walt that she and Florida had martinis at lunch.

Ok, so something from the beginning of the episode comes up when carol’s young son, Philip is caught recording obscenities into his new tape recorder. Florida gives Carol the message from Philip’s school, and Maude doesn’t understand why Florida didn’t tell her earlier. Florida explains the message wasn’t for her, but for Carol. Walt and Carol jump all over Maude about how she treats Florida, accusing her of spoiling her in order to get her to like her.

Florida decides she is done with the Findlay Household, as it’s Friday and the trial is over. And yes, the reason is Maude. She’s crazy. Maude says something about if Florida doesn’t want to improve herself, she should just go. Oh, this is going to be good!

Maude has been trying to show Florida that she can have just as much self-respect and dignity as a white woman. And Florida doesn’t need this. Maude then calls Florida a bigot, when Florida points out that she likes to eat in the kitchen by herself rather than with the family. Priceless. Seems Florida has run into all kinds of problems with white liberals always trying to change her. Word, sister.

Carol and Walt try to change Florida’s mind. Their candor makes Florida decide to make peace with Maude. And why not? These two characters are wonderful together. I expect this duo to get more play. Both women are overly-opinionated, and we all know that conflict is what creates entertaining situations for us all to watch and love.

Maude, Bea Arthur, Good Times, spin off, Norman Lear, Esther Rolle

The second episode of Maude, “Doctor, Doctor” starts out with an atheist joke: Notre Dame is playing Southern Methodist, and God is making it rain. Ha ha. I don’t get it.

The phone rings, and Maude seems super annoyed about it. It seems that everyone has been calling her and alerting her to the weather in the Caribbean. It’s Hurricane Maude.

Whoa, Mr. Drummond walks in. He’s Arthur on Maude, and he’s a doctor. And a neighbor. Must be before he adopts those inner city kids. Art is politically the polar opposite of Maude, so I hope to see lots of him in the future. But right now, he’s got to go, as his newfangled beeper rings. Ah, those early, heady days of the first pager.

Seems Art was goading Maude into disagreeing with him on Proposition 17. He tricked her as there is no prop 17. Jokes on you, Maude. But then, Carol discovers that her son, Philip, has been caught playing doctor out behind the garage with Art’s granddaughter. Naked doctor. Nice.

Of course, the moral majority-lovin’ Arthur is freaking out about the situation between his innocent naive granddaughter; and Maude, Carol, and even Walt defend the kids’ natural curiosity. Somehow the argument takes a detour to discuss homosexuality in the State Department in the early 1950’s and Burt Reynolds’ centerfold picture.

Wow…

Ooh, a political Maude. I like it. Is it freedom of expression or a decay of morality? Naturally, Maude takes the permissive liberal view, against Arthur’s “fit” of suppression. Carol refuses to punish Philip, but agrees to say something to him. Arthur is incensed and calls them all degenerates. Maude takes offense. Art takes off, threatening to never return.

Cut to a drunken Arthur and Walt in a bar, and it seems that it is week later. Art gets to make a joke about Maude’s manly voice, because that will never get old. The drunken, yet deep conversation turns to Art’s God-complex due to his job as a doctor. Lots of odd close-ups and I’m not sure what is going on, but it’s going on for a while. Art finally comes to the point, and admits that Maude’s right about him having a hang-up about sex. He’s from Vermont, and I guess that is explanation enough.

Not the dress, but lookin' hot all the same...

Back at the Findlay House, and Adrienne Barbeau is lookin’ hot in a short dress. Maude focuses on the length, and the girls start arguing over nothing. Maude’s just in a bad mood, and admits as such. Carol suggests Maude go “put on her face.” But Maude already did. I feel like this is just filler until that lush Walt walks in.

Walt has invited Art over, but Maude is holding a grudge. The topic of sexual hang-ups come up, and Carol says something about it being a generational thing. Maude and Art’s generation have hang-ups, but Carol’s gen are free and natural with no hang-ups. Sure, Carol, is that why you are seeing a shrink?

Then things start getting weird. Walt starts stripping, to underscore his liberal attitude about the human body. The audience is dying, and maybe an older man in his boxers was a really big deal in 1972, but I don’t really get why this is so freakin’ funny. But the trick worked and Maude has relaxed about the Arthur thing.

And cue Arthur. Maude is giving the audience a deadpan look as she and Carol are caught putting Walt’s pants back on. Of course, this situation leads to Art declaring, yet again, that they are all a bunch of degenerates.

The next morning. Maude is so mad at Walt, she hid his Alka-Seltzer. But she has tea or maybe it’s coffee ready for him. She starts lecturing him, and guess what? Walt has no recollection of what happened the night before.

But I am left wondering, what will happen between Maude and Arthur? Tune in to find out, I guess.

Maude, Bea Arthur, classic tv, sitcoms, 1970’s television

Yeah, Maude arrived. I really, really love Netflix, and no, I’m not getting paid to write that (but I’m not sayin’ I’m not interested…hint hint, Netflix).

Alright, so in honor of Bea Arthur…let’s watch Maude.

The opening credits are a lot like the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I guess a driving montage was big in the early 1970’s, probably part of a larger campaign to not only promote the automobile industry, but also to promote urban flight as in the case of Maude’s move to the tony Long Island suburbs of New York City.

The set is totally All in the Family. Perhaps to let everyone know that it’s a spin-off. That is one thing I love about Norman Lear shows. He’s like the James Ivory of 1970’s television sitcoms. The production design is all obviously the same team.

As the episode opens, Walter is reading the paper in his chair, and Maude is anxious about Carol being late for dinner as Maude has to go to the hospital during visiting hours to see her friend, who had a hysterectomy. Oh, that’s a female thing, so let’s start with the feminism right off.

The doorbell chimes, and get this, it’s a super young Ed Begley Jr at the door asking for money for Vietnam vets in a college contest. Vietnam is pronounced funny. It’s like Vee ‘EHT nam. And Maude finds out his little scam — he’s selling magazines — and sends him off while making a comment about how lousy the Vietnam War is. Wow, feminist and political.

Maude is suspicious about Carol, and thinks she’s having an affair. Carol arrives home, pissy and wearing sunglasses. I think that means she has been crying. And then Maude explains that when a woman wears sunglasses in the house she’s trying to hide that she’s been crying. I’m so smart.

Maude presses the issue. Carol is being difficult, and the glasses are starting to annoy me. Carol removes them finally, and yes, she’s been crying. I think she’s touched.

Maude’s investigative skills turn up that Carol is seeing a psychiatrist. Oh, no, not a shrink. Hasn’t Bob Newhart taught us anything? So my summation of where this is going is that Maude won’t let this go, and instead she’s going to face the shrink herself and maybe with some comic consequences.

There is an odd scene at the dinner table and if anyone can explain it, that would be great. I guess it’s Maude trying not to bring up the subject, and it’s literally fighting to come out. Either that or Maude is constipated.

And then, the truth comes out. Maude thinks that Carol’s need for a psychiatrist is because Maude failed as a mother. Ah, reminds me of the Fear of Flying episode from the Simpsons…great episode. Maude starts droning on about how devoted she always has been as a mother, but Carol has no recollection, as she doesn’t remember the ages before 10. What? Really? She really does need a shrink.

By the way, it was brilliant casting Adrienne Barbeau as Bea Arthur’s daughter. They have very similar eyebrows and almost as manly voices.

Cut to the psychiatrist’s office. Maude enters and finds herself with a very nervous looking lady. She feels threatened by Maude’s presence, and Maude tells her she is there to steal her appointment. Odd, and Maude is thinly veiling threats of violence in order to run her out so Maude can in fact steal her appointment.

And we have our first Jew joke. Maude tells Dr. Stern that the only thing she knows is that Carol said he wasn’t Jewish. Hi-larity.

Dr. Stern points out that Maude has a control issue when it comes to her Carol. No! And then during Maude’s defensive ranting, she says something about her own mother. And Doctor Stern has a new patient.

You wouldn’t know that Bea Arthur can carry off physical humor really well, as that you don’t see in her later years on the Golden Girls. She uses her body to great effect to strike the overly dramatic stances of an over-protective mother. At times, it’s a bit much, but come on, it’s the pilot, so we’ll have to see how Maude and Bea Arthur develop.

Maude, Norman Lear, Bea Arthur, Adrienne Barbeau, television, sitcom

As a young child with older parents in the 1980’s, I remember having to watch the Golden Girls. I never really admitted to liking the Golden Girls to anyone before, but it had its moments. I do remember liking Bea Arthur the best out of Estelle Getty, Betty White and Rue McClanahan, as she was dry and funny and didn’t take any sh*t from her lame ex, Stan. And she always wore those long flowing outfits complete with jacket and/or scarf. And those shoulder pads…hey, it was the 80’s.

Then I started watching retro tv, and I discovered Maude. If you have never watched Maude, I will be starting a new thread on Maude as soon as I get the discs from Netflix.

Bea Arthur was born the decidedly unglamorous Bernice Frankel in New York City in 1922. She soon moved with her family to Maryland, went to high school in Pennsylvania and college in Virginia. She returned to NYC to study drama at the New School. She appeared on stage as Lucy Brown in the English-language premier of Kurt Weill’s Threepenny Opera, going on to play Yente the Matchmaker in Fiddler on the Roof and Vera Charles in Mame with Angela Lansbury. Arthur went on to reprise the role in the film version with Lucille Ball as Mame.

And then there’s Maude…

Bea Arthur was originally cast as Edith Bunker’s feminist cousin as a foil to the overt sexism of Archie Bunker in All in the Family. She made such a splash as the acid-tongued Maude Findlay that CBS made the smart move and gave Bea and Maude their own show. And what a show it was. Covering all kinds of controversial material, the apex of the series in terms of scandal came in the two-part “Maude’s Decision” episode, in which she decides to end a late-pregnancy with a *gasp* abortion. You think abortion is controversial today…many CBS affiliates refused to air the episode, which, hello, means that everyone who might not have watched the show in the first place tuned in to see what all the fuss was about.

Arthur needed a change after six seasons. She took a break, danced in the Mos Eisley Cantina in a Star Wars holiday special. Then she turned again to sitcoms in the Golden Girls. She was a perfect complement to Betty White’s ultra-nice, ultra-naive Rose from St.Olaf and the overly promiscuous Blanche (McClanahan). [A little tv trivia for you: White was originally cast as Blanche, and McClanahan as Rose; but White had already played a slut on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and McClanahan had already done sweet and innocent on... ta-dah... Maude. Both actresses feared being typecast and agreed to switch parts.] But the best combo came from Arthur’s play off of her “mother” Sophia, played by the younger Estelle Getty. Getty’s ascerbic tone played right into Arthur’s deadpan sane-among-the-crazy Dorothy.

For younger viewers, you may have noticed Arthur’s guest spots on Futurama as the Femputer when Fry and the boys are forced to make it with really large women in “Amazon Women in the Mood.” She also played Dewey’s babysitter in an episode of Malcolm in the Middle in which she likes dancing to ABBA’s Fernando.

Bea Arthur survived an incredible 7 decades in the entertainment industry, and that is no small feat. For Maude alone, she is a star in the television history firmament.

I say, rest in peace, Bea Arthur. You made me laugh and think, and for that, I thank you.

Bea Arthur, Maude, Golden Girls, Futurama, Malcolm in the Middle, Star Wars

So maybe it is just me, but I am thinking that the episode titles for One Day at a Time are not exactly on par with something like The Mary Tyler Moore Show. There’s no clever innuendo, or playful turns on words or other titles. I mean, “Super Blues” is about the Super having the Blues. And that is one of the more clever titles…sigh.

We open on a stressed out Romano-Cooper household. Julie is freaking out on Barbara about earrings, Ann is freaking out on Julie over pantyhose, and David arrives. It’s a party, and it was David’s idea for Ann to host a party. Ann is seriously annoying and the scene plays a little broad with Bonnie Franklin yelling at Richard Masur to zip her up as she quickly walks away from him. The zipper is stuck and this scene is now going way too long when Schneider enters with Ann’s mail. Schneider fixes the zipper, because he’s the handy man. Get it.

Schneider notices the preparations for the party and starts offering his help, and then he finds out that she has invited several neighbors. But not him. He leaves…sadly. That is cold, Ann. This guy hangs out at your apartment all the time, and you didn’t think that he’d feel left out.

Ann again starts freaking out about this and that, and the garbage disposal is broken. So, guess who Ann thinks it is appropriate to call…Schneider. Barbie calls him and after she hangs up, Ann changes her mind. She is really starting to wear out her charm when it comes to being wishy-washy about men.

Misunderstanding Barbara’s call, Schneider arrives in full party-hardy mode, and we go to commercial.

Schneider’s idea of a fun time is to wear a hand-buzzer and leave whoopee cushions around for unsuspecting ladies. He is a laugh riot! Barbie says something about the disposal, and Schneider figures out why he is there. He says something about he is the superintendent and that what the superintendent does. I think what he is really saying is that he is not a “friend”, only a superintendent. Aw, I suddenly feel sorry for the very lonely Schneider.

Ann feels bad now that she didn’t think to invite Schneider. About time. She’s so insensitive. But the first guests have arrived. A fun couple that really liven up the place. The old lady sits on the hand buzzer. Hilarious.

Ann sneaks out of the party to go talk to Schneider and we get out third set for the One day at a Time universe: Schneider’s basement apartment. It’s as sad as his life.

Now, Pat Harrington gets a little screen time to ham it up and give us a little background on his character. He’s a big John Wayne fan. So am I. Gee, maybe this Schneider-based episode was well-timed. I never really liked him before, but maybe I am starting to change my mind.

During the exchange, Ann tries to bring it all back to her, but Schneider won’t have it. We find out he was married before, and Ann and Dwayne Schneider find that they have something in common — something called loneliness.

It’s a sweet moment. And almost a little funny, too.

Cut to “Later that evening” and Schneider is the life of the party.

One Day at a Time, Bonnie Franklin, Richard Masur, Pat Harrington, sitcom

So let’s review. So far the ladies and lads of One Day at a Time have taken us through the pressure of a single mom having to play both mom and dad roles, sexual discrimination, and jealousy over the ex’s new model/girlfriend. What in the world could “Chicago Rendezvous” bring us in terms of a moral lesson?

Don’t be a whore, Bonnie Franklin.

Ann arrives home from as date with a tall, dark handsome stranger. And she gives it up on the first date — a kiss, that is. She met him in a Chinese restaurant while she was job hunting. She “got picked up”, as Julie so delicately points out.

Julie starts lecturing Mom about the dangers of strange men. She overacts, but the scene is still kinda cute as the girls get to call Ann out on the double standard. And then Barbara tells Mom they know all about divorcee’s being “hot to trot.” So adorable, seriously.

And then the truth comes out, and Ann actually met him a few weeks ago? And they play “who picked who up”. Cute. And a little kinky. Hot to trot, indeed.

And he’s an airline pilot. And we all know about pilots (Quagmires) or navigators (Howards). Strangely, David doesn’t care about Ann dating when Julie spills the news to him. I think he likes it. Geez, the 70’s were swingin’.

When it rains, it pours. The door rings and it’s Schneider, of course, because this guy is weirdly always hanging around the apartment of the single mo and her two teenage daughters. He has roses for Ann. But the roses are from Steve, the pilot.

He wants Ann to come fly away with him. To meet up with him in Chicago. Oooooooohhhhhhhh, 80’s style.

But is Ann ready for this?

David starts acting weird as soon as he sees he’s getting bird-dogged by a pilot. I bet that happens to lots of lawyers.

Next day, and David arrives after having been called by Ann. She needs a man, and of course, David thinks she is referring to him, but he plays dumb until Ann literally spells it out for him. He freaks out, and we get the drama part of the dram-edy of One Day at a Time.

The fight goes on for a long time, and then they start yelling at the same time until Ann calls him a creep. Luckily the girls get home and diffuses the situation.

I don’t blame David in a way, as Ann has totally been leading him on, and it is a pilot we are talking about. Pilots are like sailors, girls in every port. David thinks Ann is making a bad decision, besides the point that he is jealous.

And Ann is going to tell the girls the truth about what she is doing. She’s so liberated! Take that, Gloria Steinem!

Barbara is supportive, and Julie accuses Mom of “shacking up.” You cannot get anything past Julie, and then Julie calls Ann out for not allowing her to go camping. And then while Ann is defending her actions, she starts doubting her decision to go. She doesn’t say it, but you can see it in her face.

Ann is leaving and meets Schneider a mopping the lobby. While she waits for her taxi, Schneider gives her advice. Charming. But his brutal honesty and general sleaziness further drive home the point that Ann is not ready for this “departure” of character. She gives Schneider a tender (tease!) kiss and then returns into the building.

Moral of the story: Don’t be a whore until you are damn good and ready.

One Day at a Time, sitcom, television, Bonnie Franklin, Chicago Rendezvous

Here we are, starting off a new show, with the very first episode of One Day at a Time. As the title is “Ann’s Decision“, I was worried that we’d have to sit through the whole “decision” of Ann’s to get a divorce, pack up her two daughters, and move to Indianapolis.

But no, the Romano-Coopers are settled in their apartment, and we see all that happened in that rousing opening credits sequence. But hey, who is that moving the non-nuclear-family in? Why it’s that one guy, David, played by Richard Masur, who is Ann’s boyfriend in the first season. Were they seeing each other before Ann got divorced? Oooh, scandal!

“Ann’s Decision” opens on Julie (played awkwardly by MacKenzie Phillips) talking on the phone with presumably a friend. Something about two teenage girls plotting to do something without their parent’s full knowledge of the true situation, which I’m sure we’ll find out soon. It’s one of those “I’ll tell my mom that your mom said yes.” No dads at all…

Note that Julie reassures her friend, Trudy, about the plans, describing her mom as a “liberated woman” when the issue of boys comes up.

The door opens and Mom’s home. Ann is an Avon lady? And it’s a recession. Hmm, timely.

So Julie breaks the news about Trudy’s mom saying yes, so she’ll call Trudy and tell her that her mom said yes…but Ann is not having it. She gets the truth out of Julie about the camping trip with boys, but not before Julie calls her “old”. Julie then tries to assuage Mom’s fears by explaining that the boys are seniors, so it’s ok. No deal, and Julie poutingly brings up how things were different before the divorce. I wonder how many times that little trick is going to come up.

Thank goodness that cute, fiesty Barbara (Valerie Bertinelli) runs in the room, saying “it happened!” Ann naturally starts to worry, but “it” is Barbara making the boys’ basketball team. Julie gets indignant over Barb’s attention-stealing ways and how great Barb is — maybe because she doesn’t freak out over stupid stuff, Julie.

Ann lies on the floor to stretch her back, and says a little prayer to her chick “God” about routing for the girls’ team. Meanwhile, Schneider (Pat Harrington) sneaks in — a habit that we see him practicing in the opening credits — and he starts posing in the mirror. Kind of weird, and today I’m sure this guy would not be so welcome in the apartment of a single mom and her two teenage daughters, but it was a different time, and this is Sitcomland afterall. Schneider is the sitcom staple — the looney side character that constantly hits on the main single lady.

David arrives, after Schneider leaves. Something about a quick wedding, but Ann rebuffs him. He’s only 26 and she’s 34. He’s only 26? He looks about 40. Ann cutely wonders why David wants her, and we find out he is her divorce lawyer. Ah ha.

And he is a lawyer that carries mini bottles of booze in his briefcase, in addition to collapsible cups. Nice.

Cue the girls fighting, and Julie forces her mom to make a different decision about her co-ed camping trip, or else she’s is going back to live with Daddy. Ann gets livid, and refuses to budge. Julie is so petulant, and I already don’t like her. Ann gives her bus fare to go back to her dad’s. She hesitates, and even Barb asks her to not go. But Julie is stubborn…and lame.

Now, pretty little Ann is distraught. She says something dramatic and serious about during her first 17 years, her dad made her decisions; the second 17, her husband did, and it’s her first decision and she blows it. Aww. I feel so bad for her. David tries to lighten up the situation, and gently reprimands Ann for not discussing the trip first calmly with Julie before making a decision. Ann agrees.

But Ann also has to call the ex, Ed, about the Julie situation. He starts asking her if she can handle everything, and she starts getting mad. Schneider stops by to hit on Ann (again), and it doesn’t help the conversation with Ed. David, who had popped into the bathroom to shave while Ann calls Ed, enters the room, and now there are all kinds of men in Ann’s apartment.

And back to the phone, Ann is asking Ed to meet Julie at the bus station, but then Julie walks in. She’s such an attention whore.

Ann is tearful, and Julie sees the pain she has caused her mom and even Barbara. Time for a sit-down. Bonnie Franklin gets the opportunity to show off her acting chops with a heart-felt speech to the girls about not being perfect, but she is trying.

I think they are going to make it after all…

And Julie gets to go camping, because…Ann is “not sure”. What? Julie goes to her room to call Trudy, and she says that she cannot go camping. Wow, she made a good decision on her own. Maybe there is hope for her yet — or not.

One Day at a Time, sitcom, television, show, TV, Bonnie Franklin, Valerie Bertinelli, MacKenzie Phillips, Richard Masur, Pat Harrington

If you have no memory of why Valerie Bertinelli is a celebrity other than as someone that hawks diet food, then let’s take a trip back in time (because after all that what Retro TV is all about) to visit a sitcom that featured a lead female character that was…gasp…divorced.

Did you know that when the Mary Tyler Moore Show was being developed the idea of making Mary divorced was batted around before deciding that due to Moore’s previous job as Laura Petrie on the Dick Van Dyke Show it may cause confusion that Laura divorced Dick? So instead, Mary was the victim of a man who wouldn’t marry her, which lead to her feminine independence.

That was 1970. Divorce was not quite so commonplace as it is today. So, I’m sure that having America’s sweetheart, Mary Tyler Moore, be a divorced woman on television would have proven quite the scandal. But five years later, and make it Bonnie Franklin, and you got yourself a hit on your hands.

In 1975, CBS debuted One Day at a Time.

Though the first female divorcee on television was Diana Rigg (a goddess in my eyes) in Diana about two years before ODAAT, Bonnie Franklin’s Ann Romano was more realistic as a working class mom in Indiana with two teenage daughters to raise by herself. Also, One Day at a Time’s heroine was lashing out at her not knowing herself, getting married too young and becoming a stay-at-home mom.

It definitely has a feminist side, and you can thank Norman Lear for that politicizing. Lear, the man behind All in the Family and Good Times, was an envelope-pusher (too say the least) in the changing political and cultural landscape of the 1970’s. His real outlet for feminism was of course, Maude, with One Day at a Time filling the “feminism-light” category, but it could be because of the less-controversial nature of ODAAT that led to its longevity. One day at a Time lasted through nine seasons, although the last few were iffy.

Let the synopses begin…

One Day at a Time, Valerie Bertinelli, Bonnie Franklin, Norman Lear, All in the Family, Diana Rigg, divorce, television, Maude, Good Times, feminism, politics on television

Welcome to my synopsis of this, the sixth episode of the first season of the Mary Tyler Moore Show, “Support Your Local Mother“.

We open on Mary and Phyllis in Mary’s fabulous apartment. Mary has just finished sanding a little table, and before she paints it, Phyllis suggests she age it..with a chain. An old rusty chain, why didn’t I think of that? Anyway, Phyllis belts the table with the chain, and encourages Mary to do the same. Mary cannot hit the table without giggling profusely. It’s a little weird, but I think it goes to show us that Mary is really uptight.

Suddenly, a noise at the door interrupts Mary’s flailing attempt at flailing. A woman is sitting with her back against Mary’s front door. It’s Rhoda’s mom, played by Nancy Walker who did those Bounty paper towel commercials in the 1970’s (and 80’s?) . Rhoda is not at home, so Mary asks Rhoda’s mom to wait at her place until Rhoda returns.

The phone rings. It’s Rhoda. She doesn’t want to see her mother, and she doesn’t want Mary to say her name or yes and no too often as it will give her away to Mrs. Morgenstern . She gives Mary a silly code, if yes say a word that starts with A, and no is a B-word. All is going swimmingly until Mary says, “Ok, bye, Rhoda.”

We finally get to see Rhoda’s apartment and it looks like a cross between Jeannie’s genie bottle and the girls apartment in the Ted Knight show (post-MTMS) Too Close for Comfort.

Rhoda has issues with her Jewish Mom’s way of making her feel guilty. And because Rhoda is stubborn as a mule, Rhoda’s mom will be staying at Mary’s. She tries to pay Mary for the accommodations, and she is quite cute doing so — a frenetic struggle later, and she finally just puts it in Mary’s purse.

Next morning, and no Mrs. Morgenstern. Rhoda calls, trying to disguise her voice; Mary tells her to grow up and come down. Mrs. Morgenstern gets back and comes bearing a gift for Mary. Mary is starting to feel the same way about Rhoda’s mom that Rhoda feels. Mrs. Ida Morgenstern has a way of grinding on you, playing the victim, the long-suffering mother — a comedy staple. Mary’s gift is a duo of scarves, and even though she gushes about them, Ida apologizes for her not liking them. See what I mean.

Cut to the office. Mary is wearing two scarves.

WJM is doing a special story on the positive side of air pollution. Murray explains that the station is owned by the president of the local smelting plant. Brilliant. But Mary wasn’t aware of the special, and that means overtime and a late night. And she forgot Ted’s insignia (?), so she tries calling her “mama” to come by the station with it.

Mary freaks out in Mr. Grant’s office over the insignia. Grant tries a pep talk, and threatens to fire her. But he doesn’t mean it. Mary is super-lovable, but she has been distracted the last couple of days. She cries in that really odd fake cry that Mary Tyler Moore does, which is both off-putting and kinda cute.

Mary arrives home and Ida has the place spotless. She gives Mary her messages, by way of how many times the phone rang. And Ida drops the bomb that Mary should kick her out. She tries to assuage Mary’s pending guilt by making her promise to write. Like Rhoda did, just now, to tell her to go home to New York.

Mary tries one last time to convince Rhoda to see her mom. She visits Rhoda at her job. She’s a window dresser for a department store (wow, we get to see her at home and at work in the same episode). And Mary brought along Ida. She’s outside the window and as soon as Rhoda sees her…aw, it’s a special moment. And as Mary is left in the window, she tries out her best mannequin impression.

This is a great episode, not only for some nice physical humor, but we finally get to see more of Rhoda’s life, both in terms of her family background and her life outside of the Mary Universe. Personally, I adore Rhoda as a character, so this episode hit the spot. And her mother was a delight. The Ida Morgenstern character also makes it to the Rhoda spinoff.

Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, Ida Morgenstern, Nancy Walker, Bounty ads, Ted Knight, Too Close for Comfort, Phyllis, first season

So they have run out of clever episode titles by this, the 5th episode from the first season of the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Have I mentioned how lame the opening credits sequence is…I always hate it when an actress is driving and they just look ultra-alert like that’s what you look like when you are driving…

Open in on the news room, Mary’s on the phone, doing nothing as usual. What a great job, seriously, she has nothing to do, except take Mr. Grant’s abuse and make some phone calls — maybe that is all associate producers do.

A Mr. Carelli is here for Mr. Grant and after Mary does the receptionist’s job, Mr. Grant knows him and brushes him off. To make matters worse, he’s in insurance now, and Mary falls for the pity thing. And now, he coming over to talk about insurance with her. Ah, the pushy insurance salesman…classic early comedy stereotype.

Mary is doing Rhoda’s hair in the next scene, maybe that night, it’s not clear. Phyllis pops by to get the girls’ support for her pro-capital punishment raffle with the grand prize being an antique guillotine, but the girls are not interested.

How ’bout that? Frank Carelli is a day early, and he’s talking really loudly. Phyllis spills it that she and Lars are going to be frozen when they die. Awesome. Like Fry…

When Frank opens his briefcase, he “accidentally” pulls out his old football glory pictures. And why, I don’t know, maybe he’s picking up on Mary. Nope, he thinks he’ll be a great sportscaster. Maybe she can say something to Lou. Mary hedges the pressure sell, but she folds. She always does.

Cut to Mary talking to Mr. Grant about the sportscaster job, but the job is highly-sought-after, and Mr. Grant doesn’t think Frank is the guy, but he’s willing to give him an audition. Mary takes that as triumph, and returning to her desk, Frank is now under her desk. He’s too much. And because he is too much, I know he won’t get the job. He would be a terrible regular cast member. Luckily, he plays Mary his demo “diary” tape, and he is terrible.

Rhoda and Mary are having dinner, listening to the tape. And why? Mary is one of those people who thinks she can help people, no matter how sad sack they are, and the diary contains a passage when Frank gets fired. Yep, Mary is going to help that Frank. Cue the sad music. And no laughter.

And maybe it’s the next day or next week. Frank arrives with ingredients for dinner, and Rhoda thinks that Frank is after Mary. Mary poo-poo’s the idea, but Frank has no idea what the concept “personal space” means and admits that he likes bigger girls.

It’s minutes for the audition, and Murray is trying to help Frank add some jazz to his try-out sportscast. But there is no helping this guy. Another auditioner, played by real-life 3-time Pro-Bowler Timothy Brown, is a total hot shot, and an African-American, but this is pre-Affirmative Action days, so I guess that won’t make a difference. And as TV is 98% white, we know that the hotshot ain’t gettin’ the job either.

If the numbers don’t tell you how white TV was or is, Timothy Brown also played a guy named “Spearchucker” Jones on M*A*S*H in 1972.

Back at Mary’s and Frank’s depressed. Mary is trying to give him a pep talk, but Frank never made the first string, so owning a restaurant is out of the question. This guy should coach little kids.

He starts talking about Florida as a paradise, and he’s jetting off for there tomorrow. He’s crazy, and I hope he is leaving, because he’s lame. But no, he’s off with high fives and a rah-rah spirit.

Mary and Rhoda enter Mary’s apartment again. Mary gets a tape in the mail with no label or return address. No way, it’s Frank. And guess what, he’s coaching kids…well, a park director job, and he’s so happy!!

I called it.

I guess “Keep Your Guard Up” makes more sense now, but it’s still not that clever.

Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, Lou Grant, Mary, Phyllis

I am thinking the title of this the fourth episode from the first season of the Mary Tyler Moore Show is a play on “money isn’t everything”, but I kind of have a feeling I am off on that one.

Open on the news room, and Ted Baxter is overthinking his answers on a questionaire from his fan club, and Murray needs an out-of-the-ordinary human-interest story to close the broadcast. He finds a little blurb in the paper about a club for divorced people — which must have still been a little exotic back in 1970 (bottom graph on left show this to be true), because I don’t quite get the “oddness” of the support group.

Back in Mary’s awesome apartment, Rhoda and Mary are exercising — Rhoda in baggy sweats and Mary in a leotard topped with a t-shirt. Odd combo, Mary. Rhoda just happened to see the news tonight and asks Mary about the divorce club thing. Of course, she wants to join and wants Mary to do it with her.

The kicker is that the divorce people’s club gets considerable discounts on travel to Europe if you are a member. Rhoda is a great salesperson, and Mary is sold.

It’s the “Better Luck Next Time” Club. Awesome. And from the get-go it seems more like a Cookie Kwan/Lindsay Nagel networking event from an episode of the Simpsons. There is a creepy dentist — the official club dentist — and he is going on and on about Mary’s wonderfully fabulous teeth. Mary is terrible at lying about her non-divorced divorced status, but luckily, lying is where Rhoda really shines.

The girls are forced to mingle with lame divorced people, with Mary trying hard to be polite and Rhoda not bothering. They get picked up on by some real winners, which is making me think that this theme of the struggles of the single girl will be a big part of the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Mary’s had enough, but she is stopped from escaping by the beginning of the official meeting in which the club’s officers are being elected. Do I see a secretary position for Mary? No, the scene ends.

Back at the AA (awesome apartment), Mary is peeved. Phyllis calls and the news comes out. Mary was elected Vice President. Gee, I was being a little sexist there, eh, thinking she would be secretary instead of VP. Just trying to put myself in a 1970’s frame of mind.

Now, Mary has just arrived at the creepy dentist from the BLNT club. He is really creepy, and I cannot figure out Mary is still in the chair. The writing is very sexual beneath the surface, and the guy playing the dentist reminds me of Phil Hartman. And that makes me sad, because I really miss Phil Hartman.

Mary is forced to fess up about not being divorced. The dentist absolutely refuses to listen to her as he does not want to not work on her teeth. And what year did Marathon Man come out, because some of this scene is really, really similar in that a dentist is exploiting someone in a vulnerable position, and I want to think that it is on purpose. I’ll check on that.
[Marathon Man the book was published in 1974, and the film was released in 1976 -- just a coincidence, I guess]

The dentist’s real motivations for nominating Mary for VP was that his brother was running and he thought that by nominating Mary, his brother would be sure to win. He forces her to return to the club, tell the truth and resign, or he’ll snitch about her singleness.

Cut to the next meeting. The dentist offers Mary an out by letting her say she has reconciled with her phony ex. And now, Mary is forced to lie, which gets her out of confessing her lie, but she is terrible at lying. The guest characters we met earlier all object as she was just elected last week, and want to give her a shot anyway. Mary frustratingly confesses her sin in order to get the hell out of this crazy club. Rhoda defends her, by saying she is not really divorced either…and then everyone else starts confessing. No one is divorced, but the Young Republicans were all losers. Brilliant.

[And after watching this, yes, it is a play on "money isn't everything." Divorce represents the saving of money in terms of a ticket to Paris. Clever...]

Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary Tyler Moore, Mary Richards, Rhoda Morgenstern, divorce, single girl, comedy, Marathon Man, Phil Hartman, Cookie Kwan, Lindsay Nagel, Simpsons, Young Republicans

First, I love the title of the episode, “Bess You is My Daughter Now.” In so far as we are now here on the third episode of the first season of the Mary Tyler Moore Show, two of the three episode titles are clever, and if there is one thing I like, it’s clever.

Also, I am hoping that this episode has something more than just Mary’s love life as a subject. Not that her lovelife isn’t funny, but it’s time to expand.

We open in the news room, Murray and Mary are watching the moronic Ted Baxter refer to a veterinarian as a vegetarian. Rhoda phones, Mary’s late, and is going to meet her at her place before heading out to a movie.

Rhoda is waiting at Mary’s place, because you know with the whole issue of Rhoda wanting Mary’s apartment in the pilot, as the main character’s best friend, she’ll be in that apartment all the times anyway, so she might as well just have a key. Anyway, Phyllis needs Mary to watch Bess, as Lars (the never-seen husband) has come done with the chicken pox, which for for some reason, Rhoda finds hilarious because it’s a kids disease. But I’m pretty sure that the older you get, the more dangerous chicken pox can be, so way to go, Rhoda, he could die and you’re laughing at him. I guess they didn’t know that about chicken pox back in 1970.

Bess enters in full drag — Phyllis’ wig and makeup. By the way, Bess calls Phyllis Phyllis, because Phyllis reads child psychology books and she’s modern, which means that Bess is very angsty for a ten-year-old. I like her.

Phyllis gives Mary a beer stein, as that is what Bess likes to drink milk from. Now, I love her.

Mary takes Bess shopping the next day, because all little girls need to grow up to be consumers. It’s a pretty lame montage, but it does establish that Bess is growing fond of Mary - and the attention. She starts acting like a little girl again, instead of a morose little adult. Mary’s girlish enthusiasm for life wins the day.

Back at the apartment, Rhoda comes over and notices what a nice little short person Bess is. And then of course, Mary congratulations herself on her potential to be a great mom. Always with the traditional woman’s role in society, isn’t it, Mary?

Phyllis arrives to announce that Lars only had poison oak. Bess doesn’t want to come home, and Phyllis’ modern mothering supports her decision in a reverse-psychology sort-of way — because that always works.

Mary thinks she is to blame for this new independence of Bess. Phyllis knows it’s a phase, but doesn’t let the opportunity to be passive-aggressive go to waste.

Back to Ted Baxter and his pronunciation coach, Murray, practicing the upcoming newscast. This is going to be an on-going joke, methinks.

Bess shows up at the WJM office. We get a nice dose of Ted and Mr. Grant, with a side of Murray offering Bess the anchor job after she correctly says Richard Milhouse Nixon rather than Ted’s Richard Mil-horse Nixon.

Back at “home” with Bess, and I just noticed that Mary has a Joan Miro print on her wall. She’s so hip. Bess goes out for TV dinners, and Phyllis brings over some cabbage soup. Typical kid. They don’t want Mom’s cabbage soup, and tricks the other adult into junk food.

Mary has to come out finally and tell Phyllis that she doesn’t agree with Phyllis’ parenting skills, and Mary thinks that if Phyllis shows Bess how she really feels, instead of being so “strong”, Bess will want to come home. Phyllis’ insecurity over being a mom had lead her down a draconian of the Ayn Rand school of parenting. When instead if she showed her emotional side and her love for her daughter, she would have a better relationship with her.

Ah, Mary…she can fix anything. She might just make it after all.

And there is an odd little coda at the end of “Bess, You is My Daughter Now” — Mary and Rhoda talk over some credits. Have they done that before?

Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary Tyler Moore, Mary Richards, WJM News, Phyllis, Rhoda, Bess You is My daughter now, season one, Lou Grant

This is the second episode of the first season of the seminal Mary Tyler Moore Show (originally aired on September 26, 1970), and we finally get to see Mary doing a real job at her new news job. She gets to read off the ratings for Mr. Grant during an odd all-standing meeting. She defends the ratings for the show among young people as she watched it even before she got the job.

Mr. Grant informs Mary that she isn’t young. Oh, no he didn’t! And then the mail boy calls her “ma’am” when he needs her to move.

Cut to a bitch session with Rhoda. Mary doesn’t want to complain about being single, but she is, so there it is. It’s awesome how quickly her and Rhoda became fast friends. I guess being lonely in a new city brings the gals together.

Enter Phyllis. Cloris Leachman really is a goddess. She plays Phyllis as such a great contrast to the single girls, as someone who fell for the advertising of marriage, but wishes she could take it back for a refund.

The ladies are pondering which available men they knew that they wouldn’t mind getting to know better, and I think I smell an awkward double-date coming up.

Mary phones up Howard, a guy she dated once four years ago, and the dude is total stalker material, but Mary doesn’t remember this until it is too late. And then Rhoda calls up her potential beau, a guy she hit with her car a few months ago. He accepts the invite to Mary’s for drinks, but…he’s bringing his wife. Sweet. This should go swimmingly.

Next night and the girls are all gussied up…for an overly enthusiastic guy and a married guy. Don’t get that one. But Rhoda seems to think that Armand Linton will be divorced soon…until the cute little blond Mrs. Linton walks in. Mrs. Linton is a dead-ringer for Angela from The Office, except too tan.

Howard arrives and he is all hugs and photographs. Why, Mary, why? He is living in a freaky fantasy world in which Mary remembers his favorite drink. This guy is super awesome, but Rhoda steals the scene as the fifth wheel in the room.

Somehow things get confused and the guests think they are there for dinner rather than just drinks. She thought 8:30 was obviously after dinner, and I thought it was going to be a funny moment in the kitchen with Mary and Rhoda covered with flour and sauces, but no, Mary just explains the no-dinner situation, and we move on.

The happy couple take off with some creative excuses. Howard takes the alone time to make a move on Mary, and he is crazy forward proposing marriage. But then he backpedals and says she’s too good to marry and he needs his freedom to jet off to St. Paul at a moment’s notice. Priceless.

Mary agrees quickly, realizing she has an out.

The constantly-eating Rhoda returns and swears off anyone but “a couple she really likes.” Love her.

Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary Tyler Moore, Mary Richards, Rhoda, Phyllis, dating, single woman