Oh, Roooobbbbbbb...

How my favorite TV couple were so different from the ones who came before them

The Dick Van Dyke Show, "All About Eavesdropping"
OB: October 23, 1963, 9:30 p.m., CBS
I was born three months after this episode first aired.

The Dick Van Dyke Show, "The Lady and the Tiger and the Lawyer"
OB: January 15, 1964, 9:30 p.m., CBS
This episode first aired when I was one day old.

There are quite a few stories that get told, about how The Dick Van Dyke Show fell into place.  We always hear, for instance, that it was almost Johnny Carson stepping into the role of Rob Petrie, which would've changed pop culture in unfathomable ways (assuming that oft-told legend is true). We hear about the risk Dick Van Dyke took walking off Broadway's hottest musical, "Bye Bye Birdie," to go to work on the show. We hear about how Mary Tyler Moore almost didn't go to the audition and how Van Dyke was convinced she was all wrong for the part...until they actually started working together and had incredible chemistry. Van Dyke even had a crush on her (and she later had one on him).

What never gets told, however, was whether their visual similarities to another family we suddenly got to know that same year, 1961, was coincidental or on purpose. We never hear whether a CBS executive, for instance, wanted the Petries to look like the Kennedys, or whether Carl Reiner saw Van Dyke and Moore together and said "Wait! Wait! I see it now! John and Jackie, only funnier!" The comparisons are always there and are obvious: Van Dyke looked a little bit like JFK, Moore looked a lot like Jackie, they both had a little boy, the men of their respective houses served in the military and had glamorous jobs (president, and head writer of The Alan Brady Show), they both had to diplomatically deal with temperamental blowhards (Nikita Kruschev, Alan Brady), both families were all known for their charm and their youth. The very first episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show, in fact, was filmed on January 20, 1961, the very day John F. Kennedy was sworn in as our 35th U.S. President.

But the bulk of this post is going to be about what makes the two couples so different from one another. And it's really a thousand little, sweet, funny, charming things that make Rob and Laura Petrie my favorite TV couple of all time.

John Kennedy's influence reached far and wide. Almost every TV show I've written about for this blog, has his shadow, or the shadow of his death, looming over it in some form or fashion. But Kennedy was also a member of the "greatest generation," the generation who had begun running things at that point in time. What's interesting is, Rob Petrie was clearly younger than that, too young to serve in World War II. In fact I don't think Rob actually saw combat duty, although his time would've been close to that of the Korean War. And Mary Tyler Moore was playing a woman quite possibly about ten years older than she actually was at the time--21, when the show premiered. All this to say, John and Jacqueline Kennedy epitomized youth and vitality...but the Petries were even younger, both on the show and in real life, and perhaps more relatable to suburban America. And this is very significant in television history.

Most of the other TV families we'd seen up to that time--the Nelsons, the Stones, the Cleavers--were clearly of the "greatest generation," and the actors played all of those parents with the world-weary experience, both of raising children and of the rest of the world to share with those children. They wore the experience of navigating the postwar suburban American lifestyle like a nice, comfortable sweater.

What makes Rob and Laura so different is that they didn't have any of that. They appear to be still young enough to suddenly experience new things and small, surprising crises, and huddle together to figure out what to do next. So what do you do when (as was the case in the very first episode) you call a sitter for your sick son so you can go to a party? Or come to the realization your overly competitive husband loves to grab the check at restaurants? There wasn't an Ozzie and Harriet next door to give sage advice--no, their next door neighbors, Jerry and Millie Helper, were just as young as they were. So they worked it out among themselves, with Laura's part-worried, part-adoring "Oh, Roooobbbbbb!" becoming the show's catch phrase. This lower confidence level is clearly something the Petries do not have in common with the Kennedys.

One example: in the episode "How to Spank a Star," as soon as Rob comes home from a rough day at the office (Alan's guest star that week was a temperamental diva)  and his son Ritchie immediately starts pestering Rob to put a wheel back on a toy race car. When Rob protests he just got home from a rough day, Ritchie doubles down on his begging and whining, even ignoring Rob's threat of a spanking. When Laura walks by and tells him to leave his father alone and go to his room, Ritchie stops abruptly and says "O.K." and leaves. Why? Because Rob doesn't back up his threats...and Laura does. Obviously, we're not dealing with Ward Cleaver here.

We actually had an idea about how young Rob and Laura (and Jerry and Millie) were, because we saw a surprising amount of their back story in flashback episodes. We find out, for instance, how Rob met Laura (while he was a soldier and she was a USO dancer), the night he proposed and their wedding day (a classic), their honeymoon, the birth of Ritchie (another classic), how Ritchie even got his name, and (I'll get to this in a minute) Rob's belief they had just brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. We even found out how they got around to buying their home at 148 Bonnie Meadow Road in New Rochelle, New York, and how Rob got hired as the head writer of the fictional show-within-a-show, The Alan Brady Show. All of that combined wouldn't make a bad romantic comedy, actually. And when you watch the show episode by episode like I did, you can make it all the way through season two before feeling like you've known them longer than you actually have.

Carl Reiner would eventually play Brady once they actually showed him on screen, and in fact, it was all supposed to be Reiner's show. The original pilot was called "Head of the Family," and starred Reiner. CBS loved the show but wanted someone other than the New York, Jewish Reiner. They wanted someone "middle American." (In fact the pilot's entire cast was replaced, and the show switched from single-camera to live audience.)

Enter Dick Van Dyke, a man whose broadcasting career began when he married his first wife on the 1940s radio reality show, Bride and Groom.  He worked in local television in New Orleans (where he actually did weather) and his "Merry Mutes" pantomime trio had their own show in Atlanta. He even hosted a CBS morning show on which Walter Cronkite did the news. There were also a couple of memorable guest appearances on The Phil Silvers Show. But it was the 1960 Broadway musical "Bye Bye Birdie" that made his name familiar enough to be inserted into the title of a network sitcom. His TV wife would be Mary Tyler Moore, whose previous TV experience included playing "Happy Hotpoint," the elf who did the appliance commercials on The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet, and as the leggy but otherwise unseen voice who appeared in Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Her previously unused talents as a comedienne shocked and surprised even the very people who hired her, to the point that the ninth episode shot, "My Blonde Haired Brunette," was moved up to the second episode shown, to show her off.

Yet, the show's lackluster ratings during its first season almost got it canceled, possibly dooming it to a "brilliant but canceled" place in TV history. CBS was ready to drop the ax, and one of its co-sponsors, General Foods, actually pulled their support. A whole series of lucky breaks saved the show. First, the other sponsor, Procter and Gamble (which advertised Cheer and Crest on the show), stood firm, even reminding CBS of how much of their daytime advertising came from that one company. Then, CBS relented a little, offering to renew the show for a second season if they could find one more sponsor. So the show's producers, including Sheldon Leonard, Carl Reiner and even Van Dyke himself, actually held presentations at the headquarters of several companies like Lorillard Tobacco. When they were in the middle of a presentation to the makers of Albert VO5, they got a call from Lorillard saying it was a deal. So, for the rest of the series, the show was co-sponsored by the makers of Kent and Newport filter cigarettes.

A few more breaks--the show's ratings suddenly picking up during summer reruns, an Emmy for its writing and a time slot right after what turned out to be a runaway hit, The Beverly Hillbillies--helped set the show's course toward its rightful place in television history. Some even argue it helped that the show changed its opening from a forgettable still montage with a weird conga beat, to the iconic rotating openings that show him either tripping over the living room ottoman, avoiding it gracefully or avoiding it but then stumbling shortly thereafter. The famous Earle Hagen theme song even sounded like it tripped and fell along with him.
Rob, the college-educated, refined comedy writer, has a beautiful wife with her own knack for wisecracks, making their occasional fights true sights to behold. Their son Ritchie, is kind of "just there," playing roughly only a slightly bigger role than all three children from the Van Dyke-inspired Everybody Loves Raymond. But unlike most of the other family shows of the era, the show follows Rob to work.  And while, say, Ward Cleaver's accounting job or Jim Anderson's insurance job likely wouldn't be very entertaining to watch (though we did follow Dr. Carl Stone to his pediatrician practice), we intimately get to know the far more entertaining writers' room of The Alan Brady Show.

Modeled after the one from the 1950s TV series of Sid Caesar (whose death, sadly, I learned about while writing this piece), it includes veteran comedian Morey Amsterdam as a trunkful-of-gags writer modeled after Mel Brooks, and one-time child star Rose Marie as the man-chasing Sally Rogers, another writer modeled after Selma Diamond. Their producer, the bossy and much-insulted Mel Cooley, is played by Richard Deacon, after Carl Reiner cracked up seeing him as Lumpy's father on Leave It to Beaver. Alan Brady himself (modeled after the supposedly tyrannical Milton Berle and Jackie Gleason) was an unseen presence, with his back to the camera (or painted as a clown, or dressed as Santa Claus), until season four's "Three Letters from One Wife," when Reiner himself appeared on camera as Brady.

When people reflect fondly on the era of shows that were "wholesome fun for the whole family," and perhaps mention this one, what they're really saying is "I wish the censors played by the rules from the old days." Season one's all time classic, "Where Did I Come From?" (a flashback episode about Ritchie being born) had a script in which Rob originally answered Ritchie's titular question with "Why, Ritchie, you came from Mommy's belly," only for the CBS censors to snip that line because they felt it was in poor taste. In fact, for all the things about the show that still make it seem so fresh today, there are still matters like this one that make it a product of its time--Rob and Laura slept in twin beds, for instance, and the show's unfortunate but evolving take on 1960s gender roles (more on that later). On the other hand, the show made it as abundantly clear as 1960s television could possibly make it, Rob and Laura very much have a sex life. This ranges from the obvious sexual tension in the flashback scene in which Rob proposes, to the legendary 1965 episode "Never Bathe on a Saturday" which reveals they're into role-playing.

And the show appearing in black and white doesn't help either; years later it came out the show could've been filmed in color as early as the season profiled in this piece, season three, but Carl Reiner and Sheldon Leonard vetoed it for budgetary reasons. And so, The Dick Van Dyke Show has the distinction of being the last prime time network series to close out its first run in black and white, as the rest of prime time was switching to color in 1966.

The episode that first aired the day after I was born, "The Lady and the Tiger and the Lawyer," is a typically, very funny show that shows everything that makes Rob and Laura such a great couple. However, it also has a rather shocking plot twist (shocking now, at least) that clearly shows the series being occasionally, a product (or victim) of its time.

As the show opens, Rob finds Laura talking to a lawyer in the kitchen ("Just because I was late for dinner?" Rob asks out loud), where she's teaching him how to work the dials on the appliances. It turns out Arthur Stanwyck, new to the neighborhood, is a highly eligible bachelor, to the point that he's taking his brother to a bar association ball soon so he can dance with his sister-in-law. After he leaves, Laura asks about the possibility of matchmaking.

"What if I say no?" Rob asks. "Then I'll probably do it behind your back," Laura says matter-of-factly. Then they start disputing (or perhaps, competing) over who the woman will be: Laura's klutzy cousin Donna, or Rob's co-worker, the man-chasing Sally. Laura decides to have them over on successive nights, with Arthur present both nights and Donna coming first. Rob asks "Why should Donna have a head start?" So they flip a coin to see who gets to have dinner first.

"Heads, I win!"
"You didn't even call it!"
"Rob, you know heads is mine, ever since we've been married heads is mine!"
"Are you sure you never took tails?"
"I hate tails!"

This episode is directed by Jerry Paris, who usually plays next door neighbor Jerry, and written by Garry Marshall and Jerry Belson; Marshall and Paris would later work together behind the scenes of Happy Days. One thing about the episode they've crafted is that it's rich in detail-enhanced dialogue like the above exchange, and the show never flags for a minute because of it. 

Rob asks Sally at work; her supposed hatred of suburbs and mustaches seems to soften when she hears a handsome man may be at stake. "You're fickle. You told me you didn't like mustaches," Buddy inquires, to which Sally responds, "That was last year, next year I'm accepting tattoos!"

Lyla Graham, an actress whose short resume ranges from My Three Sons to Maude to Scrubs, enters as cousin Donna, and she does a beautiful job of playing such a wonderfully eccentric character who would've been right at home in a 1930s screwball comedy. As she arrives, Rob, who's been trying to open a wine bottle for the last few minutes, removes her coat and the sleeves come off; she designed it that way herself. When Rob asks about her parents, she says she never talks to them much because they don't have much in common, to which Rob points out they have her grandparents in common. She then points out she probably has more in common with her grandparents anyway since genetics skip a generation.

Rob: You still taking harp lessons?
Donna: I never took harp lessons.
Rob: I thought you played some kind of instrument.
Donna: Ohhh, that was the Cambodian kabakalukia.
Rob: That's right, you're a kabakalukia player. Well isn't that something like a harp?
Donna: No, not at all. Actually a kabakalukia is an East Indian milking funnel cover with goat gut.

Then the doorbell rings to which the intellectual Donna says "Oh, G & E in flat minor!" (Man, I wish we could've seen more of cousin Donna.)  Without missing a beat, Rob arrives at the door and fumbles with the wine bottle, saying "Arthur, I'm sorry!" Arthur then says "Don't be sorry, it's a very good year!" as he effortlessly pulls the cork out of the wine bottle. 

Rob and Laura introduce Arthur and Donna, and as they mention dinner, Laura points out that Donna once illustrated a cookbook. "Oh yes, she draws the best food!" Rob retorts, to the obvious displeasure of Laura.
She then goes to the kitchen as Rob talks to the two about Arthur being a lawyer. "He even has his own ambulance!" Rob jokes, to which Laura expresses displeasure by rattling the kitchen blinds. She does it again when the two are discussing the debates attorneys often have with psychologists (which Donna happens to be one of the latter), to which Rob responds, "Well, you both have something in common...professional antagonism!"

Laura returns with coffee, they discuss the rock Donna's wearing on a necklace, one she found in her driveway. Arthur is fascinated with that and borrows her glasses to look, and it turns out he can see perfectly with them. Laura points out that's another thing they have in common, an eye prescription. Then they discuss how much they love foreign films and how much they hate subtitles. "They make me nauseous," Donna says. Rob responds, "Great, they both get nauseous." Then they start discussing the movies of Ingmar Bergman and the series they show at the local museum, and Donna asks Rob where her coat is located because she has a brochure in the pocket. 

Laura takes Rob into the kitchen and implores him not to sabotage the date. Rob says, "Why did you have to give them wine? Up till then all they had in common was rocks!" They hear her call for help--she's locked herself in the bathroom, and Laura suggests Rob did it on purpose. He knocks the door down to get her out.

Later, as Arthur and Donna leave together, we hear her trip on the front steps. Rob predicts Laura's going to blame him, which Laura promptly says, "What did you leave on the walk?" "She probably tripped on her own sleeves," Rob says. Then Rob frets that after how well Arthur got along with Donna, having even more in common than Rob himself has with Laura, Laura asks excitedly "Do you think so?" then frowning, "I mean, do you think so?"

The next night we see Sally and Arthur staring at each other for a few seconds, while Rob and Laura look on from the kitchen. Then Arthur blurts out a punchline; it turns out they're finishing each other's jokes. It turns out Arthur is a big comedy fan, and when he was younger, W.C. Fields and Fred Allen were his idols. They even joke about having rocks in common, with Sally saying rubies, emeralds, then in Jimmy Durante's voice, "Them's my kinda rocks!" When Arthur says he's a poor lawyer, not a rich jeweler, she says she'll buy them for him. They laugh and Arthur calls her "Mrs. Calabash," referencing Durante's famous signoff. They later leave for an amusement park that's still open late; it turns out they both love shooting galleries.

The next day, Rob and Laura are both worried that Arthur hasn't called either Donna or Sally. Laura suggests Rob invite him over to visit his "hobby shop," which Rob says he doesn't have. "Then ask him over for some other manly reason." Rob, pretending to hold phone: "Hi fella, would you like to come over and shave with me?"

Right about that time, Arthur suddenly shows up, saying he has a gift for them for all they did over the last two nights. They invite in for coffee and cake, and he sits down and tells them he has a date later that evening...with his ex-wife. It turns out she's wife # 1 & 3. The shocking plot twist is that he admits "I have a bad bad temper, and I'm prone to hit people that I love." He says he's getting counseling and he won't be calling Donna or Sally because he's not over it and cares too much about them. It's an interesting treatment of something that would likely never be played for laughs now except perhaps in the edgiest of current shows.

By the time I was born (season three, 1963-64), The Dick Van Dyke Show was already on its way to becoming a critics' and Emmy darling. It had presented such legendary classic episodes as "The Curious Thing About Women" (the one about one of Laura's bad habits being written into a TV sketch...also known as the one with the inflatable life raft), the sci-fi fantasy "It May Look Like a Walnut," and "The Two Faces of Rob" (again, the role-playing). The 1963 season premiere broke new ground with the legendary "That's My Boy?", the one in which it's recalled in flashback how Rob thought they took the wrong baby home from the hospital. Among other things, Rob bases it on the fact the baby doesn't look like either parent, the presence of another couple with a similar last name, Peters, and constant mixups involving misdelivered flowers and gifts. When the Peters are coming over to the Petries', Laura vows no one will take her baby, setting up possibly a very, very ugly showdown. But it's resolved when the Peters family walks in the front door...and they're black. The audience laughter starts off rather nervous, then cathartically long and loud before evolving into applause.

Another classic from that season, "All About Eavesdropping" (actually filmed at the end of season two but not broadcast until season three) is Rob and Laura at their best, teamed up against a perceived affront and navigating a difficult, bumpy road of ethics, friendship and passive-aggression.

The episode opens (aside from Rob avoiding the ottoman but stumbling anyway) with the Petries getting ready for a party next door at the Helpers'. Laura is running late. "Just a minute, darling" is her answer to everything Rob says. "I hope they never send a woman into space, 'Five, four, three--' 'Just a minute, darling!'" Rob mocks her. He asks for his handkerchief and she says "We're only going next door!" to which Rob says "I guess I can run back here to blow my nose."

Rob then trips on one of Ritchie's toys--"At least it's an ambulance" he says, picking up the toy ambulance--and takes stock of all the ridiculously violent cold-war era toys Ritchie owns, including a toy water-based atom bomb launcher and a toy moon base. There's also a toy "space communicator" that's also an intercom, and it's hooked up apparently so Ritchie can communicate with the Helpers' son.

As Laura comes out, they happen to notice it's on and they can hear Jerry and Millie.  (Jerry is played by Paris, back in front of the camera, and Millie is played by Ann Morgan Guilbert, who later played Nana on The Nanny). Millie is asking Jerry to try her peanut butter and avocado dip, a recipe she got from Laura. "You want to know the truth? It tastes a little drab," he says.

"A little drab? That's my own recipe!" Laura shoots back, deciding she wants to listen further. She and Rob are shocked to hear the two speculate that she deliberately left something out of the recipe, "so she can say she makes the best peanut butter and avocado dip in Westchester County, maybe she left it out on purpose!"

"What nerve to accuse me of such a catty trick?" Laura says, incredulous. At first they seem to hear Jerry agree. "Laura wouldn't do a thing like that, Rob would," Jerry says. "Remember that dress pattern she gave me? She left out a sleeve," Millie adds. They speculate it's about a compulsive, competitive drive to be the best at anything. "I didn't think Laura could be so insincere," says Millie. "Let's face it, honey, Rob is no Albert Schweitzer either!" adds Jerry, invoking the name of the famed humanitarian and medical missionary.

"I'm no Albert Schweitzer? He's no Eleanor Roosevelt!" an incredulous Rob shoots back. The two are so upset they consider not showing up for the dinner party. Then Rob reminds Laura that it's only a six person party, and the other two are Buddy and Sally, who are his friends and co-workers, not the Helpers'. So they decide they can't skip.

After a commercial, we see that Buddy and Sally have already arrived and everyone's asking about the Petries. Buddy wonders if they had a fight, but Jerry says he and Millie have "five or six big fights to their little ones." Back at the Petries, Rob accuses them of "malicious accusery," and asks Laura, "You'd never leave someout out of a recipe would you?...You did, didn't you?" She says she may have left out the mustard because she was experimenting. When Jerry calls and threatens to come over and drag them over, Rob says, "Let's go visit the nice people next door, Dr Jeckyll and Mrs. Hyde!"

When they arrive, the frowning, quiet Petries come inside reluctantly. "I wasn't sure we were welcome," says Rob. When Millie asks for Laura's wrap, she chooses to keep it, saying "It's always a little cold in here." They claim they were late because of a headache. When the tense room becomes quiet, Sally makes a hail Mary at conversation by saying "Boy this is a beautiful ashtray!" "We gave them that ashtray, we also gave
them that lamp," Laura replies. "No reason, just friendship," Rob adds.

When Jerry suggests they play a game, Rob says "It's your house." "You didn't give them the house?" Buddy asks. At first Jerry repeatedly suggests "Who Am I?" for a game, but Rob just says "Not Eleanor Roosevelt, that's for sure." Then, in a fateful suggestion that sets up one of the greatest scenes (and my all time favorite) from the series, Millie suggests charades, and divides up teams. What plays out next is a ballet of passive-aggressiveness that's the stuff of television legend.

Laura stands up and motions that she's going to do the first word of a song title. She pounds her fist against her hand, as Rob calls out "Crush! Destroy!" He guesses "Small! Petty! Hypocritical! Two-faced!" for the next word, leading Jerry to ask when "two-faced" was ever part of a song title.

As Laura goes through motions which include claws, a stabbing motion, and the act of pointing at Millie and Jerry repeatedly, Rob keeps guessing things like "Treachery!" "Malicious accusery!" "Pearl Harbor!" then jumps to his feet and says "Wait, I got it! 'On the Street Where You Live!'" Laura says he's right, and a stunned Jerry reads the piece of paper that confirms the title.

That pretty much ends the game of charades and as the conversation once again reaches a standstill, Buddy decides he'll try the dip. "Real good, but why did you leave out the mustard?" Buddy innocently asks, laying bare what apparently started this in the first place. As he takes another bite of the chip, he says "Hey, Millie does make it better!"

As Millie calls everyone into the dining room for dinner, Rob and Laura stay back for a few seconds, long enough for Laura to say "Don't eat anything." "I'm sincere, I'll nibble," Rob shoots back. A crossfade and one scene later, Rob and Laura leave, and everyone else speculates what they could've done to offend them, noting they arrived angry. Buddy's best guess: "I know the problem...They need on the spot relief for acid indigestion!"

We next see Rob and Laura at their dining room table, eating breakfast cereal and celebrating how "We got 'em!" They lose a fight with temptation and turn the intercom back on to hear what they're saying now. Jerry, clearly upset, says he'll never forgive them for their behavior. But Millie wonders what they did to upset them. Jerry suggests it was a dental bill he sent Rob; he usually works on Rob's teeth for free but still charges him for lab work, but the lab costs had gone up and he forgot to tell them. They discuss Rob and Laura being "loyal people" and wish out loud they knew what they did to upset them so much.

"I did leave the mustard out of the dip, you know," Laura says. "And I know I'm no Albert Schweitzer," Rob adds. They pick up the bottle of wine they had angrily not chosen to take to the party earlier, and decide to take the "neighborly" back way to their house.

They arrive at Jerry's and Millie's and admit what all they heard on the intercom, about insincerity, Albert Schweitzer, etc. They apologize for eavesdropping and acting out. "If you can't say nasty things about your best friends at home where can you say them?" Millie then asks, "Did you hear about the dip?...Oh, I'm so embarrassed!" The episode ends with the four reconciling, and Rob sitting down on the piano, playing some Bach and saying, "I'm no Albert Schweitzer, eh?" a reference to the famed humanitarian's abilities to perform that composer's work.

Honestly, I don't think there was a better written sitcom at any point of the 1960s.  The Emmy voters apparently agreed; no other sitcom was so heavily honored, including four straight awards for Best Comedy Series, until Frasier. And for two more seasons the classics kept coming.  The 1965 episode "Coast-to-Coast Big Mouth" could very well be one of the greatest pieces of comedy in television history. It's the one where Laura blabs on national television that Alan Brady has a toupee, and ends up having a memorable come-to-Jesus meeting with Alan and all of his hairpieces.

The show gets a lot of criticism for its portrayal of women...but to be sure, it was an ever-evolving portrayal. Laura is a former professional dancer who gave up her career to be a stay-at-home mother and wife; Sally is the single career girl. The show often catches flak for presenting these two lifestyles as mutually exclusive, but that may not be entirely fair. Just in season three, we do see Laura come to work in Rob's writer's room as a secretary, and it's made clear she can successfully take care of the house and work during the day (though it's not easy and the episode's resolution looks groan-worthy in 21st Century America). And we also see Sally appear on a late night talk show making jokes about her single life, making it clear she wants a husband but also intends to keep her career. It's even implied in that episode (and in "The Lady and the Tiger and the Lawyer") that she's willing to happily bring home the bacon to her husband.

But Laura was a modern housewife for that era--as women like June Cleaver and Margaret Anderson were often seen doing housework in dresses, Laura made censors nervous and laid down a pop culture marker by wearing capri pants, just as Mary Tyler Moore did at home. (It's her later series from the 1970s that would be cited as a feminist milestone in pop culture history.) But most importantly, as both of the episodes I profiled here make clear, Rob and Laura are a team of equals. Laura is clearly not "second-in-command" of the household, she's co-manager. Even with his sometimes antiquated ideas about a "woman's role," Rob still respects her as an equal; when they have a disagreement, either they work it out or Rob tries to "lay down the law" and makes an ass of himself. Their equality is most especially obvious in the famous charades scene, in which Rob manages to guess "On the Street Where You Live" despite Laura's claws and pointing, etc., even though it's clear Jerry wrote the answer down before they even arrived. Their ability to communicate is seen as almost telepathic, like a Fonzie-type superpower.

And it moves the whole notion of the TV couple miles ahead in progression. For this reason, although the show is often seen as a piece of comedy evolution, it can also be seen as a step in how women are portrayed--bridging the 1950s gap between the married life of I Love Lucy and single life of Our Miss Brooks, to the single life of, say, The Mary Tyler Moore Show and the modern, mutual respect of couples like Max & 99, Bob & Emily, Tim & Jill, Paul & Jamie, Ray & Debra, Jim & Pam, Mike & Molly and Phil & Claire (and perhaps even Mitch & Cam). Even in real life, today, you're more likely to meet a Rob & Laura than you are an Ozzie & Harriet. And you'd probably want to be their friends and neighbors. Just be sure there's not an intercom involved.

Availability: the entire series is available on DVD & Blu-Ray, Netflix and Amazon, and (mostly) on Hulu.  Except for DVD & Blu-Ray, it usually appears in production order so some of the episodes may be in odd places, like "All About Eavesdropping" popping up in season two instead of the following season when it first aired.

Next time on this channel: Wagon Train.
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  1. I love Mary Tyler Moore. The Mary Tyler Moore Show was, still is, and forever, will be the greatest situation comedy ever produced.

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