William Paley
March 01, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
david@davidkrell.com
William Paley was the patriarch of CBS from the 1920’s until his death in 1990. Under Paley, CBS became the gold standard of television programming in news and entertainment.
Edward R. Murrow challenging Senator Joe McCarthy’s claims of communists working in government.
Walter Cronkite’s evening newscasts becoming appointment television after dinner.
Archie Bunker and son-in-law Mike Stivic having heated arguments about Vietnam, Watergate, and racism, thereby reflecting discussions occurring in living rooms across America in the 1970’s.
Sally Bedell Smith’s 1990 authoritative biography In All His Glory details Paley’s life as the son of a cigar businessman who transformed himself into a broadcasting pioneer, giant, and legend.
Smith takes us inside the executive suites to show us how Paley and CBS battled for ratings, handled FCC matters, and set the standard for television news programming with documentaries, newscasts, and special reports.
Paley’s lieutenant was Frank Stanton, an extremely able broadcast executive who was instrumental in the success of CBS.
CBS was nicknamed the Tiffany Network because of its programming excellence. Behind the programming, though, there were tough decisions, bold decisions, and financial decisions.
Smith dissects Paley’s personal and professional lives to reveal a man who was bold in his approach to radio and later television. Whether it was backing technology to make color television a reality or backing programming that made people think, Paley and his lieutenants like Stanton contributed rich chapters to the story of television.
In All His Glory is a work that deserves to be studied by any media scholar, fan, or enthusiast.
Dino
March 01, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
david@davidkrell.com
If you’re looking for a good read about show business, try Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams by Nick Tosches.
The book is an incredibly in-depth biography of Dino Crocetti, a young man born in Steubenville, Ohio who boxed when he was a teenager, learned about haircuts in his dad’s barber shop, and harbored dreams of being a professional singer.
You know Dino Crocetti by his stage name – Dean Martin.
Tosches dissects Martin’s personal and professional lives with terrific, compelling, and important details.
Find out how Lou Costello of Abbott & Costello fame helped Martin make a cosmetic change that may have altered Martin’s career.
Find out the real story behind the origin of the Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis comedy duo.
And find out the unusual production schedule for The Dean Martin Show, a comedy-variety show on Thursday nights on NBC at 10. It was a juggernaut and ran from the mid 1960’s to the early 1970’s.
Martin was part of the Rat Pack, an informal group of entertainers led by Frank Sinatra. Like Sinatra, Martin was a master of the nightclub stage, wooing audiences with his charm, happy-go-lucky drinking persona, and, of course, his deep singing talent.
But there’s more to the story of Dean Martin than his talent. Tosches peels back the layers of this extraordinarily likeable entertainer and shows us that human foibles, vulnerabilities, and failures occur for everyone, even those of us whose names are on the marquees.
Network
January 10, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
In 1976, Americans claimed that they were mad as hell and they weren’t going to take it any more.
The line, of course, comes from the movie Network. It focuses on a fictional fourth television network called the Union Broadcasting Systems or UBS. During network television’s heyday of the 1970’s there were, in reality, only the big three networks. CBS, NBC, and ABC controlled prime time. Back then, the idea of a fourth television network was radical, to say the least. FOX did not debut until 1986.
Paddy Chayefsky’s script centers on Howard Beale, a long-time UBS network news anchor fed up with reading stories about mayhem, murder, and riots. He becomes an outrageous character called The Mad Prophet of the Airwaves. Basically, Beale channels people’s rage in his own show, The Network News Hour. Peter Finch plays Beale. He won a posthumous Oscar for his portrayal.
Beale inspires his audiences to take action of they’re mad as hell. In one scene, he tells his audiences to protest a business deal involving his own network by writing letters and sending them to the White House. The deal is stopped.
William Holden plays the network’s veteran news director, Max Schumacher. He is also Beale’s best friend. Schumacher sees Beale’s transformation stemming from financial opportunity, not pure values. Complicating matters is Diana Christensen, the programming chief of the network. Diana has an affair with the married Schumacher. She sees Beale’s outrage in terms of numbers, specifically, ratings. And she’s right. Beale’s transformed show receives a stratospheric boost in ratings.
Meanwhile, Diana has radical programming ideas, like building a reality show around a group of terrorists that robs banks.
Ned Beatty plays the CEO of the parent company that owns UBS. He gives a forceful monologue that outlines the financial realities of the world from his perspective for Beale. And Holden’s monologue at the end of the movie is equally forceful. He explains his love-hate relationship with the medium in which he worked, thrived, and prospered for decades.
Howard Beale’s inspiration, whether pure, amplified, or manufactured, gave audiences and outlet for their collective outrage when they’re mad as hell and they’re not gonna take it any more.
david@davidkrell.com
In 1976, Americans claimed that they were mad as hell and they weren’t going to take it any more.
The line, of course, comes from the movie Network. It focuses on a fictional fourth television network called the Union Broadcasting Systems or UBS. During network television’s heyday of the 1970’s there were, in reality, only the big three networks. CBS, NBC, and ABC controlled prime time. Back then, the idea of a fourth television network was radical, to say the least. FOX did not debut until 1986.
Paddy Chayefsky’s script centers on Howard Beale, a long-time UBS network news anchor fed up with reading stories about mayhem, murder, and riots. He becomes an outrageous character called The Mad Prophet of the Airwaves. Basically, Beale channels people’s rage in his own show, The Network News Hour. Peter Finch plays Beale. He won a posthumous Oscar for his portrayal.
Beale inspires his audiences to take action of they’re mad as hell. In one scene, he tells his audiences to protest a business deal involving his own network by writing letters and sending them to the White House. The deal is stopped.
William Holden plays the network’s veteran news director, Max Schumacher. He is also Beale’s best friend. Schumacher sees Beale’s transformation stemming from financial opportunity, not pure values. Complicating matters is Diana Christensen, the programming chief of the network. Diana has an affair with the married Schumacher. She sees Beale’s outrage in terms of numbers, specifically, ratings. And she’s right. Beale’s transformed show receives a stratospheric boost in ratings.
Meanwhile, Diana has radical programming ideas, like building a reality show around a group of terrorists that robs banks.
Ned Beatty plays the CEO of the parent company that owns UBS. He gives a forceful monologue that outlines the financial realities of the world from his perspective for Beale. And Holden’s monologue at the end of the movie is equally forceful. He explains his love-hate relationship with the medium in which he worked, thrived, and prospered for decades.
Howard Beale’s inspiration, whether pure, amplified, or manufactured, gave audiences and outlet for their collective outrage when they’re mad as hell and they’re not gonna take it any more.
1980s NBC
January 10, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
In the 1980s, NBC’s peacock rose like a phoenix after startling programming disasters including Pink Lady and Jeff, Supertrain, and the departure of the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players on Saturday Night Live.
Under programming guru Brandon Tartikoff and his lieutenants Warren Littlefield and Jeff Sagansky, NBC achieved prominence, success, and distinction.
Hill Street Blues greatly altered television and specifically, police dramas, with story arcs existing throughout several episodes. Its magic derived from an ensemble of talented character actors, once-in-a-lifetime chemistry, and writing that engaged viewers rather than merely entertain them.
Where Hill Street Blues revealed an urban realism previously unseen on television, St. Elsewhere used similar production techniques to show the lives of doctors and patients at Boston’s fictional St. Eligius Hospital. St. Elsehwere had a softer tone and indulged in frequent nods to television, such as Dr. Craig referencing a colleague by saying, He’s practicing in L.A....law.
The mention was a wink to the audience regarding the powerhouse drama L.A. Law. It had glitz, glamour, and sex appeal. The program showed life in the law firm of McKenzie Brackman, tackled complex legal issues, and showcased fictional cases that sometimes had real-life counterparts.
Miami Vice made pastels fashionable and inspired men to wear Italian casual shoes with no socks. It also was soundtrack television with music video sequences inspired by MTV, a new cable network.
The Cosby Show rejuvenated NBC’s prime time fortunes in the Thursday 8:00 pm anchor slot.
Family Ties introduced us to Michael J. Fox.
Cheers gave us Taxi in a bar. Essentially, it showcased a bunch of amiable underachievers who always knew your name and welcomed you into their barroom escape from the daily grind.
Night Court featured comedian Harry Anderson as Judge Harold T. Stone in a courtroom filled with characters including a sexaholic Assistant District Attorney, a gigantic buy lovable bailiff, and Mel Torme in several episodes as himself. Judge Stone is the crooner’s biggest fan.
A couple of NBC shows were period pieces that did not fare so well.
Crime Story lasted two seasons. It featured Chicago cop Mike Torello in his ongoing quest to put mobster Ray Luca behind bars. The setting moved from Chicago to Las Vegas when Luca went there to be an integral part of the mob’s operation. As Luca went, so did Torello and his team.
Private Eye was set in the mid-1950ss. It had a film noir quality and a plum time slot after Miami Vice, but it didn’t even last one season.
Hunter starred former NFL standout Fred Dryer in the role of Rick Hunter, a member of a family steeped in organized crime who became an L.A.P.D. detective.
Bay City Blues lasted only a few weeks. This show depicted the victories and losses of the Bay City Bluebirds, a fictional minor league baseball team in Bay City, California. The show featured stars to be Sharon Stone, Ken Olin, and Dennis Franz.
Chicago Story also featured Franz in an ensemble cast. This 90-minuted drama debuted in the 1982-83 television season but didn’t see a second season. It showed the intersecting lives of cops, doctors, and lawyers in the Windy City. Also in the cast...Kristoffer Tabori, Maud Adams, Craig T. Nelson, Richard Lawson, Molly Cheek, and Daniel Hugh-Kelly.
Lorne Michaels departed Saturday Night Live in 1980 along with the original Not Ready For Prime Time Players after five years at the helm. He returned in 1985. But he cleaned house after one season. In 1986, Michaels introduced us to Dana Carvey, Phil Hartman, Kevin Nealon, and others who revamped, revived, and retooled Saturday Night Live. Church Lady, Hans and Franz, and Wayne’s World became franchise sketches.
In 1985, An Early Frost was the first television program or tv-movie portrayal of the emotional upheaval caused by AIDS. The first mention of AIDS on prime television, however, occurred on St. Elsewhere.
The decade of Madonna, Ronald Reagan, and Michael Jackson belonged to NBC. Proud as a peacock.
david@davidkrell.com
In the 1980s, NBC’s peacock rose like a phoenix after startling programming disasters including Pink Lady and Jeff, Supertrain, and the departure of the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players on Saturday Night Live.
Under programming guru Brandon Tartikoff and his lieutenants Warren Littlefield and Jeff Sagansky, NBC achieved prominence, success, and distinction.
Hill Street Blues greatly altered television and specifically, police dramas, with story arcs existing throughout several episodes. Its magic derived from an ensemble of talented character actors, once-in-a-lifetime chemistry, and writing that engaged viewers rather than merely entertain them.
Where Hill Street Blues revealed an urban realism previously unseen on television, St. Elsewhere used similar production techniques to show the lives of doctors and patients at Boston’s fictional St. Eligius Hospital. St. Elsehwere had a softer tone and indulged in frequent nods to television, such as Dr. Craig referencing a colleague by saying, He’s practicing in L.A....law.
The mention was a wink to the audience regarding the powerhouse drama L.A. Law. It had glitz, glamour, and sex appeal. The program showed life in the law firm of McKenzie Brackman, tackled complex legal issues, and showcased fictional cases that sometimes had real-life counterparts.
Miami Vice made pastels fashionable and inspired men to wear Italian casual shoes with no socks. It also was soundtrack television with music video sequences inspired by MTV, a new cable network.
The Cosby Show rejuvenated NBC’s prime time fortunes in the Thursday 8:00 pm anchor slot.
Family Ties introduced us to Michael J. Fox.
Cheers gave us Taxi in a bar. Essentially, it showcased a bunch of amiable underachievers who always knew your name and welcomed you into their barroom escape from the daily grind.
Night Court featured comedian Harry Anderson as Judge Harold T. Stone in a courtroom filled with characters including a sexaholic Assistant District Attorney, a gigantic buy lovable bailiff, and Mel Torme in several episodes as himself. Judge Stone is the crooner’s biggest fan.
A couple of NBC shows were period pieces that did not fare so well.
Crime Story lasted two seasons. It featured Chicago cop Mike Torello in his ongoing quest to put mobster Ray Luca behind bars. The setting moved from Chicago to Las Vegas when Luca went there to be an integral part of the mob’s operation. As Luca went, so did Torello and his team.
Private Eye was set in the mid-1950ss. It had a film noir quality and a plum time slot after Miami Vice, but it didn’t even last one season.
Hunter starred former NFL standout Fred Dryer in the role of Rick Hunter, a member of a family steeped in organized crime who became an L.A.P.D. detective.
Bay City Blues lasted only a few weeks. This show depicted the victories and losses of the Bay City Bluebirds, a fictional minor league baseball team in Bay City, California. The show featured stars to be Sharon Stone, Ken Olin, and Dennis Franz.
Chicago Story also featured Franz in an ensemble cast. This 90-minuted drama debuted in the 1982-83 television season but didn’t see a second season. It showed the intersecting lives of cops, doctors, and lawyers in the Windy City. Also in the cast...Kristoffer Tabori, Maud Adams, Craig T. Nelson, Richard Lawson, Molly Cheek, and Daniel Hugh-Kelly.
Lorne Michaels departed Saturday Night Live in 1980 along with the original Not Ready For Prime Time Players after five years at the helm. He returned in 1985. But he cleaned house after one season. In 1986, Michaels introduced us to Dana Carvey, Phil Hartman, Kevin Nealon, and others who revamped, revived, and retooled Saturday Night Live. Church Lady, Hans and Franz, and Wayne’s World became franchise sketches.
In 1985, An Early Frost was the first television program or tv-movie portrayal of the emotional upheaval caused by AIDS. The first mention of AIDS on prime television, however, occurred on St. Elsewhere.
The decade of Madonna, Ronald Reagan, and Michael Jackson belonged to NBC. Proud as a peacock.
Mary Tyler Moore and Wizard of Oz
January 10, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
Take a sweet, innocent, wide-eyed young woman from the Midwest and put her in a situation with three men. One man is fairly wooden and rarely shows emotions. One man doesn’t have much intelligence or common sense. One man growls a lot but is really rather cowardly in even the lowest of pressure situations.
You might think I’m talking about The Wizard of Oz.
I’m talking about Mary Tyler Moore. Not the woman, but the show. In fact, the official name of the show is not The Mary Tyler Moore Show. It’s simply Mary Tyler Moore.
Moore played Mary Richards. In the WJM-TV newsroom in Minneapolis where Mary worked as an Associate Producer and later Producer of the 6 O’Clock News, she had three primary co-workers who fit easily into the personas popularized in The Wizard of Oz: News Writer Murray Slaughter and the Tin Woodsman, Executive Proudcer Lou Grant and the Cowardly Lion, Anchorman Ted Baxter and the Scarecrow.
Murray used humor as a defense mechanism to prevent him from revealing his true emotions. When he was revelatory, for example, in an episode where he shows his true romantic feelings for Mary, he was awkward. Emotions were typically absent, suppressed, or hidden, much like a certain Tin Woodsman with an axe.
Lou was cowardly when faced with personal issues. He didn’t like to talk about his divorce. He tried to escape the continuing clutches of WJM’s Happy Homemaker, Sue Ann Niven, only to succumb to one night of passion. And he ventured tentatively into a date with co-worker and subordinate Mary. It ended with both of them realizing that friendship was better suited for them than romance.
Ted, of course, was the anchorman who presented authority on screen, but frequently flubbed lines. He didn’t really understand that he was the butt of Murray’s jokes. But he somehow knew, deep down, that he lacked a certain quality that others easily possessed. The quality was the ability to understand simple news information. One can make the argument that Ted was a forerunner of the Tom Grunick character played by William Hurt in the 1987 movie Broadcast News.
No mystery there. James L. Brooks wrote and directed the movie. He created Mary Tyler Moore with Allan Burns.
david@davidkrell.com
Take a sweet, innocent, wide-eyed young woman from the Midwest and put her in a situation with three men. One man is fairly wooden and rarely shows emotions. One man doesn’t have much intelligence or common sense. One man growls a lot but is really rather cowardly in even the lowest of pressure situations.
You might think I’m talking about The Wizard of Oz.
I’m talking about Mary Tyler Moore. Not the woman, but the show. In fact, the official name of the show is not The Mary Tyler Moore Show. It’s simply Mary Tyler Moore.
Moore played Mary Richards. In the WJM-TV newsroom in Minneapolis where Mary worked as an Associate Producer and later Producer of the 6 O’Clock News, she had three primary co-workers who fit easily into the personas popularized in The Wizard of Oz: News Writer Murray Slaughter and the Tin Woodsman, Executive Proudcer Lou Grant and the Cowardly Lion, Anchorman Ted Baxter and the Scarecrow.
Murray used humor as a defense mechanism to prevent him from revealing his true emotions. When he was revelatory, for example, in an episode where he shows his true romantic feelings for Mary, he was awkward. Emotions were typically absent, suppressed, or hidden, much like a certain Tin Woodsman with an axe.
Lou was cowardly when faced with personal issues. He didn’t like to talk about his divorce. He tried to escape the continuing clutches of WJM’s Happy Homemaker, Sue Ann Niven, only to succumb to one night of passion. And he ventured tentatively into a date with co-worker and subordinate Mary. It ended with both of them realizing that friendship was better suited for them than romance.
Ted, of course, was the anchorman who presented authority on screen, but frequently flubbed lines. He didn’t really understand that he was the butt of Murray’s jokes. But he somehow knew, deep down, that he lacked a certain quality that others easily possessed. The quality was the ability to understand simple news information. One can make the argument that Ted was a forerunner of the Tom Grunick character played by William Hurt in the 1987 movie Broadcast News.
No mystery there. James L. Brooks wrote and directed the movie. He created Mary Tyler Moore with Allan Burns.
Broadcast News
January 10, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
On those rainy weekends when your plans to enjoy nice weather go awry, popping in a DVD may come to mind. For a romance story with comedy elements, or maybe it’s a comedy story with romance elements, check out Broadcast News.
This 1987 film stars Holly Hunter as television network news producer Jane Craig based in Washington, D.C. Jane is a driven woman who falls unexpectedly for the network’s new reporter, Tom Grunick. William Hurt plays Tom. Where Jane is intelligent, curious, and methodical, Tom is simply not. He’s not lazy, he just knows that his talent is reading scripts on a teleprompter with authority. He relies on others, like Jane, to make editorial decisions regarding the news program.
Aaron Altman, played by Albert Brooks, finds himself personally and professionally threatened by Tom.
Aaron is a hard-working news reporter who dreams of being an anchor. But he can’t read a teleprompter without sweating. He sees Tom as representing the bleak future of news – all flash, no substance. But he acknowledges Tom’s talent as what the bosses and the public want.
On a personal level, Aaron has romantic feelings for Jane. In a poignant exchange, he tells Jane, Tom, while being a very nice guy, is the devil.
Jane still chooses Tom but has a difficult decision to make when she discovers, thanks to Aaron, that Tom cried on cure when he interviewed a woman about a horrible event that happened to her. Because Tom only had one cameraman, he forced himself to cry after taping a segment with the woman. This way, the editors could edit the tape and make the crying seem seamless as if Tom truly reacted in the moment.
A brutal layoff at the network sets Aaron off to find other news pastures in which to roam. Specifically, he heads to Portland, Oregon where a friend of his has been urging him to join him in a local television news department. To find out how Jane and Tom survive the layoff, you’ll have to watch the end of the movie.
By the way, pay attention to an uncredited cameo by Jack Nicholson as the network’s news anchor and a coda scene that reunites the three main characters seven years after the main story.
david@davidkrell.com
On those rainy weekends when your plans to enjoy nice weather go awry, popping in a DVD may come to mind. For a romance story with comedy elements, or maybe it’s a comedy story with romance elements, check out Broadcast News.
This 1987 film stars Holly Hunter as television network news producer Jane Craig based in Washington, D.C. Jane is a driven woman who falls unexpectedly for the network’s new reporter, Tom Grunick. William Hurt plays Tom. Where Jane is intelligent, curious, and methodical, Tom is simply not. He’s not lazy, he just knows that his talent is reading scripts on a teleprompter with authority. He relies on others, like Jane, to make editorial decisions regarding the news program.
Aaron Altman, played by Albert Brooks, finds himself personally and professionally threatened by Tom.
Aaron is a hard-working news reporter who dreams of being an anchor. But he can’t read a teleprompter without sweating. He sees Tom as representing the bleak future of news – all flash, no substance. But he acknowledges Tom’s talent as what the bosses and the public want.
On a personal level, Aaron has romantic feelings for Jane. In a poignant exchange, he tells Jane, Tom, while being a very nice guy, is the devil.
Jane still chooses Tom but has a difficult decision to make when she discovers, thanks to Aaron, that Tom cried on cure when he interviewed a woman about a horrible event that happened to her. Because Tom only had one cameraman, he forced himself to cry after taping a segment with the woman. This way, the editors could edit the tape and make the crying seem seamless as if Tom truly reacted in the moment.
A brutal layoff at the network sets Aaron off to find other news pastures in which to roam. Specifically, he heads to Portland, Oregon where a friend of his has been urging him to join him in a local television news department. To find out how Jane and Tom survive the layoff, you’ll have to watch the end of the movie.
By the way, pay attention to an uncredited cameo by Jack Nicholson as the network’s news anchor and a coda scene that reunites the three main characters seven years after the main story.
Barney Miller
January 10, 2011
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
What was the most realistic cop show of all time?
Hill Street Blues?
Delvecchio?
Naked City?
Dragnet?
NYPD Blue?
Any of the shows in the Law & Order family?
Answer: None of the above.
On an episode of Jon Favreau’s show Dinner for Five on the Independent Film Channel, a former Chicago cop turned actor who largely plays cops gave us an insight. Dennis Farina said that Barney Miller is the most realistic cop show of all time.
Barney Miller aired for eight seasons on ABC, from 1975 to 1982.
In its early days, the show about the fictional 12th precinct in New York City’s Greenwich Village reflected a virtual melting pot. The detective squad was composed of detectives from each of the following ethnic categories: Polish, Japanese, Jewish, Puerto Rican, and Black.
Eventually, the cast was shortened.
The pilot aired under the title The Life and Times of Barney Miller on August 22, 1974. The show premiered under the title Barney Miller on January 23, 1975.
Hal Linden played the title role, a police captain who is an oasis of sanity in an ocean of weirdness, unpredictability, and ironic humor.
With few exceptions, most episodes took place completely in the squad room, though early episodes featured Captain Miller’s home life.
In the final episode, Captain Miller got the promotion to Deputy Inspector that he craved for years. Meanwhile, the NYPD broke up the team of detectives.
The humor of Barney Miller was subtle, understated, and poignant.
With a jazz beat opening featuring a bass, drums, and trumpet, Barney Miller was an integral if undervalued program in ABC’s lineup of the late 1970’s that brought the alphabet network to prominence.
It didn’t have the sex appeal of The Love Boat or Charlie’s Angels.
It didn’t have the action of Starsky & Hutch or The Six Million Dollar Man.
And it didn’t have the emotional resonance of Eight Is Enough.
But it had distinct characters, a multi-racial cast, solid guest actor,s and good writing. Simple to describe yet elusive to find in the wonderful world of 1970’s television.
david@davidkrell.com
What was the most realistic cop show of all time?
Hill Street Blues?
Delvecchio?
Naked City?
Dragnet?
NYPD Blue?
Any of the shows in the Law & Order family?
Answer: None of the above.
On an episode of Jon Favreau’s show Dinner for Five on the Independent Film Channel, a former Chicago cop turned actor who largely plays cops gave us an insight. Dennis Farina said that Barney Miller is the most realistic cop show of all time.
Barney Miller aired for eight seasons on ABC, from 1975 to 1982.
In its early days, the show about the fictional 12th precinct in New York City’s Greenwich Village reflected a virtual melting pot. The detective squad was composed of detectives from each of the following ethnic categories: Polish, Japanese, Jewish, Puerto Rican, and Black.
Eventually, the cast was shortened.
The pilot aired under the title The Life and Times of Barney Miller on August 22, 1974. The show premiered under the title Barney Miller on January 23, 1975.
Hal Linden played the title role, a police captain who is an oasis of sanity in an ocean of weirdness, unpredictability, and ironic humor.
With few exceptions, most episodes took place completely in the squad room, though early episodes featured Captain Miller’s home life.
In the final episode, Captain Miller got the promotion to Deputy Inspector that he craved for years. Meanwhile, the NYPD broke up the team of detectives.
The humor of Barney Miller was subtle, understated, and poignant.
With a jazz beat opening featuring a bass, drums, and trumpet, Barney Miller was an integral if undervalued program in ABC’s lineup of the late 1970’s that brought the alphabet network to prominence.
It didn’t have the sex appeal of The Love Boat or Charlie’s Angels.
It didn’t have the action of Starsky & Hutch or The Six Million Dollar Man.
And it didn’t have the emotional resonance of Eight Is Enough.
But it had distinct characters, a multi-racial cast, solid guest actor,s and good writing. Simple to describe yet elusive to find in the wonderful world of 1970’s television.