When It Rains, It Pours

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Mary (Mary Tyler Moore): Rhoda, did you ever have one of those days?

Rhoda (Valerie Harper): Yeah, mostly!

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Everyone has a bad day now and then.

It's the most predictable fact of human existence. High hopes and expectations may be rare and will take a beating and go unfulfilled, but bad days are universal for nearly all of us — and occur with a depressing regularity.

There is a small portion of the population that never seems to endure a bad day, but appearances can be deceptive. When those folks do have a bad day, the rest of us take a kind of perverse pleasure in the assurance that no one is immune.

Mary Richards (Mary Tyler Moore) was having three of those days (in her own words) in a single day when the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that first aired on this night in 1973, "Put On a Happy Face," began.

Actually, it all started with something small. When the episode began, Mary was drinking coffee and some of it dribbled onto her new sweater. Her date for an upcoming broadcasting awards banquet encountered some difficulties — and ultimately fell through. Then Mr. Grant (Ed Asner) informed her that, instead of disposing of the obsolete file as requested, she had thrown out the file of obituaries that news outlets keep so they will be ready in case someone famous dies.

Make that when someone famous dies.

Because, as Mr. Grant explained to Mary, "There is no 'if.' They're gonna die. We're not gonna have one thing to say except maybe 'So long.'"

(Personal note here: I have never worked in broadcasting, but I have worked for newspapers and a trade magazine, and we had certain files that we kept for future events, like obituaries and such. It was good to have them handy. You never knew when someone prominent was going to die, but, as Mr. Grant observed, you knew they would die one day.

(We didn't have to keep advance obituaries for presidents or anyone else who was nationally prominent. We knew that kind of obituary would be readily available from the wire services. A good example of that is the death a few days ago of Billy Graham. The wire services undoubtedly had his obituary ready for many years — he was, after all, 99 when he died.

(But we needed to be ready when folks who were known locally — like mayors or community activists — passed away.

(I don't remember any files that were specifically designated as "obsolete" in the newsrooms where I have worked — but I suppose there could be such a file that serves as a temporary placeholder for such files. That would be a decision for the management of an individual news outlet to make.

(And, apparently, the folks at WJM had made that decision. Perhaps the responsibility for disposing of obsolete files fell to a different person periodically — that wasn't mentioned — but, in this episode, which is the only time I can recall an obsolete file being mentioned, it was Mary's responsibility.)

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Then when she got home that night, her phone was ringing as she came through the door. She made a mad dash for the phone only to find that the person on the other end had hung up. In the dash for the phone, her bag spilled and her groceries were scattered on the floor.

Rhoda (Valerie Harper) came in, took one look and said, "It looks like somebody mugged Betty Crocker."

But the really big misfortune came when Mary slipped at work and sprained her ankle. To help her ankle when she was back in her apartment, Mary soaked it — which gave her a cold. That made it hard for her to talk on the phone when she was trying to find a date for the banquet.

(That wasn't her only obstacle, though. She had been out of touch with the men she contacted — long enough for one of them to have gotten married in the interim.)

Frustrated, Mary finally gave in and agreed to go out with a guy that Ted (Ted Knight) had been recommending — only to find out that Ted had been speaking of himself.

That was bad enough, but then the dry cleaner ruined the dress she had planned to wear, and she had to turn to Rhoda to get something to wear. Rhoda urged her not to go to the banquet, but Mary insisted that she was nominated for an award and had to go. She didn't expect to win, but it would be bad form not to attend.

So she and Ted went to the banquet. Bad luck continued to follow her. It was raining, which couldn't do much to her hair since her hair dryer gave out on her earlier, but she did step in a puddle, which made her squish when she walked. Then at the banquet one of her false eyelashes came off, and she tried to put it back on while the awards were being handed out.

It was at that very minute that she was announced as the winner of the award for which she had been nominated.

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The first words out of her mouth in her acceptance speech — after a rather loud sneeze — were "I usually look so much better than this."

I guess we all know people who seem to be perfect all the time — and it can be a source of, as I said before, perverse pleasure when such people have to go through the trials and tribulations the rest of us must face.

But Mary was such a pleasant person that it was hard to take any satisfaction from her misfortune.

It was still funny, though, and it remains funny today. Call it a guilty pleasure.

Oh, and by the way, there was a neat little twist at the end that Mary Tyler Moore fans will appreciate.

The usual ending for a Mary Tyler Moore Show episode showed a kitten in the same pose as the old MGM lion.

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But 45 years ago tonight, Mary's face appeared in place of the kitten — and, instead of meowing, Mary stammered "That's all, folks!" like Porky Pig.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

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Rhoda (Valerie Harper): Ben and I aren't getting married — he's not my type.

Phyllis (Cloris Leachman): What do you mean he's not your type? He's witty, he's attractive, he's successful, he's single ...

Rhoda: He's gay!

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Phyllis (Cloris Leachman), the snobby manager of Mary Tyler Moore's building on the Mary Tyler Moore Show, was eagerly anticipating the visit of her adored and musically talented brother (Robert Moore) in the episode that aired on this night in 1973, "My Brother's Keeper." She saw it as an opportunity for him to meet and become interested in Mary.

And when Phyllis saw them together, she became even more convinced that they were meant for each other. They were sophisticated and stylish, just the way she imagined herself to be.

To her great chagrin, though, her brother appeared to be interested in Rhoda (Valerie Harper), whom Phyllis regarded as uncouth and beneath her. These days, I guess Phyllis and Rhoda would be considered frenemies — friendly enemies. But since that portmanteau wasn't in use in those days, I don't know how their status was labeled.

Whatever else it may have been, though, it wasn't a friendly relationship, and Phyllis was shaken by the belief that her brother might hook up with Rhoda. She was so despondent about that prospect that she drove away guests at Mary's party — and Mary's parties already had a reputation for being disasters.

Mary begged Phyllis not to make a scene, and, by Phyllis' standards, she didn't — but her demeanor betrayed her. She was morose and become even gloomier the more she drank.

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Anyway, Phyllis confronted Rhoda about the situation, telling her that she had come to terms with the idea that Ben and Rhoda would end up together, and received a shock.

Her brother was gay.

Now, keep in mind that this was 45 years ago. Homosexuality was rarely mentioned on TV, and when it was, it certainly wasn't treated the way it is today. It was a decade of social change on TV, but gay rights was not on the front burner.

And it was largely because of that fact that the episode sort of limped to its conclusion without making any special point or taking sides. That was understandable. It would take awhile, but the gay community's time to be the topic of national debate would come.

As I understand it, the introduction of homosexuality into the story was not intended to make a political statement or further some kind of agenda.

Actually, as I have heard it told, the gay angle was introduced as a means of preventing Rhoda and Phyllis' brother from becoming a couple. It was also one of the first times that the word gay was used to on TV describe homosexuals.

That would become more commonplace, but at the time it mostly seemed to complicate things because how one defined gay largely depended on the generation of the speaker. Today, if you look up gay in your dictionary, the first definition is likely to be about homosexuality. Half a century ago, a definition of "bright or cheery" most likely was the first.

I don't know if "My Brother's Keeper" influenced that or not.

But, like a steady rain will gradually erode solid surfaces, usually without drawing too much attention, episodes such as the one of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that aired 45 years ago tonight helped pave the way for the emerging gay rights movement.

Self-Image Re-Imagined

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Mary (Mary Tyler Moore): Tell us, Miss Mary Jo Beth Ann Lou, what are some of your favorite hobbies?

Rhoda (Valerie Harper): My favorite hobbies are cheerleading, liking people and living in America.

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In the 1970s Valerie Harper as Rhoda on the Mary Tyler Moore Show was one of the best role models for girls and young women.

The star of the show, Mary Tyler Moore, was portrayed as the epitome of the modern single working woman, but as the associate producer of a local TV newscast, she occupied the elite end of that spectrum. Besides she was beautiful and always wore clothes that accentuated her physical beauty. She was hardly typical of the young women of her generation although she did inspire many to pursue their dreams. She was a pioneer in a male–dominated field, and she was to be commended for accomplishing what she did in a way that was perceived as nonthreatening. But she was not typical.

Rhoda was more representative of modern single working women. She was a window dresser at a department store, and she didn't have a covergirl body although the baggy clothes her character wore made it hard to see that she really was more shapely than viewers were led to believe. A native of the Bronx, Rhoda had a brash way of speaking and a boisterous personality.

That was a lethal combination for Rhoda. People were even less attracted to such a character then than they are today.

Still, Rhoda was a revolutionary character in modern television. She was a role model for all the girls who lived in the real world where imperfections and shortcomings of any kind could be and frequently were obstacles to success. Rhoda seemed to revel in her acceptance of that world and her place in it.

Once, for example, Rhoda was invited to "go downtown and goof on people." She asked what that meant and was told it meant to "walk around, act weird, hope somebody notices."

"That's my life, kid," she replied.

Another time, at a social gathering, Rhoda introduced herself as "another person in the room."

So it was a little disappointing 45 years ago tonight when, in the episode "Rhoda the Beautiful," Rhoda seemed to cave to the segment of the culture that values appearances over everything else, that judges the book's cover, not its content.

In the episode Rhoda had been participating in a weight–loss program and had shed 20 pounds. She looked great, so great in fact that she was chosen to be a contestant in a beauty pageant at the department store where she worked.

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But Rhoda was having a hard time accepting the new and improved version of herself. She had been struggling with weight issues all her life as so many people do. It was part of her personality — and it was a handy excuse when she failed at something. What would she do now?

But to Rhoda's credit, she stayed on her diet. She was in her maintenance phase, which apparently meant continuing to avoid all the things she had been avoiding since going on the diet. That led to one of the funniest scenes in the episode.

Rhoda walked into Mary's apartment while Mary was eating a candy bar. Embarrassed, Mary put the candy bar down, but Rhoda insisted that she finish it. So that is what Mary did — but she soon regretted it because Rhoda asked her questions about it, telling Mary that she had forgotten what chocolate tasted like. So Mary had to describe the candy bar to Rhoda. When she was finished, Rhoda said, "That's the best candy bar I ever watched."

Even as the list of semifinalists for Ms. Hempel was narrowed and Rhoda remained in contention, she continued to put herself down. It annoyed Mary to the point that she chided Rhoda for not allowing herself to enjoy the experience.

"It's not so easy to say nice things about yourself," Rhoda protested, and that was something to which I could certainly relate. I remember on my first newspaper job, one of my first assignments was to write an article about myself, introducing myself to the readers. While I had a list of accomplishments of which I was proud (still am, for that matter), I really struggled with that article. It took me longer to write than any article I've ever written, even the ones that dealt with complex subjects.

Rhoda was right. It isn't easy for many people to speak — or write — about themselves. I guess it seems immodest to most.

There was an element of disappointment there, too, I suppose. When Rhoda became one of the contenders for Ms. Hempel (Hempel's Department Store being where she worked), she had been counting on a negative reaction from Phyllis (Cloris Leachman) as the basis of an excuse for not winning.

But Phyllis threw her a curve, insisting that she was beautiful and an obvious choice for Ms. Hempel.

To Rhoda's great surprise, she won the pageant — and gave hope to the seemingly hopeless.

You know, she might have been a pretty good role model in this episode after all.

A Special Night

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"I just wanted you to know that sometimes I get concerned about being a career woman. I get to thinking my job is too important to me, and I tell myself that the people I work with are just the people I work with and not my family. And last night, I thought, 'What is a family, anyway?' They're just people who make you feel less alone and really loved. And that's what you've done for me. Thank you for being my family."

Mary Tyler Moore

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I think I will always regret the fact that Mary Tyler Moore did not live a few more months.

I had nothing to do with her death, of course. I have no more power over life and death than any other human being, and I completely understand that we all will die someday so I do not lament the fact that she is dead. She was 80 years old, after all.

But I do wish she could have lived until today — the 40th anniversary of the final episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show, which is still one of the best television programs of all time. It just doesn't seem right that she missed this milestone.

The episode was called, appropriately, "The Last Show." That isn't quite as flippant as it sounds. Yes, it was the last episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show — but it was about the last news broadcast at fictional TV station WJM with the familiar crew of Mary, Murray (Gavin MacLeod), Ted (Ted Knight), Sue Ann (Betty White) and Mr. Grant (Ed Asner).

Well, one person would remain at WJM.

The story line was that there was a new station manager (Vincent Gardenia) who wanted to make some dramatic changes. He came to speak to Lou (Ed Asner) to get some input on where to make cuts in the newsroom, and Lou suggested that he should watch the evening news and judge for himself.

Ted (Ted Knight) was certain that this would be the end for him so he began doing everything he could to ingratiate himself to the new boss.

And, apparently, it worked, because the station manager decided to let everyone go — except Ted. For long–time viewers of the show, I guess that was really the only way it could have gone. It made it seem more final — if such a thing is possible.

I guess the last half of the episode was mostly a sentimental journey for the cast and the show's fans. Mary was depressed by the turn of events, and Mr. Grant, in an attempt to raise her spirits, arranged for her old friends Rhoda (Valerie Harper) and Phyllis (Cloris Leachman) to return to Minneapolis for a visit.

Back in the newsroom the inevitable time for goodbyes arrived following the final newscast. That led to a group hug and an oft–imitated exit with the cast marching out of the newsroom singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" and Mary peeking back in the newsroom one last time.

The story itself wasn't especially memorable — even though it did reunite Mary with two of the series' early regulars who left the show before Sue Ann and Georgette (Georgia Engel) joined it; thus the final episode was the only time all of the primary characters in the series — the ones I have already mentioned along with news writer Murray Slaughter (Gavin MacLeod) — appeared in the same episode together.

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And when all eight came out and took a curtain call after the episode ended, that was a first as well.

Actually, I don't believe the show's cast ever did a curtain call before — so that was a one–time–only event.

And I am quite sure they never appeared on the same stage at the same time either before or after the night the episode was taped.

It was a special night all the way around.

Who Cares What Others May Think?

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Mary (Mary Tyler Moore): I didn't think I was asking for that much, but I haven't met anyone who even comes close. Someone who doesn't care how I look because he's more concerned with who I am. Somebody strong and intelligent who respects me, who I can respect, who has gentleness in him. I guess there just aren't any men like that.

Georgette (Georgia Engel): Sure there are. You know one.

Mary: Well, if I do, I sure wish you'd point him out.

Georgette: Lou Grant.

Mary: Come on!

Georgette: He has every quality you said you wanted, and I'll throw in one of my own — he's cute as a button!

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With any other sitcom, I would say that the subject matter of the episode that premiered 40 years ago tonight was the introduction of a new plot twist, which is a common strategy to spice up a once–popular series that is rapidly declining in the ratings.

And with any other sitcom, I would probably be right.

But I am speaking of the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that premiered on this night in 1977 — exactly one week before the series took its final bow. And it was still popular. The decision to leave 'em while they still wanted more was made by the cast and creators, not by the network.

If you could have polled the show's fans 40 years ago, I'm certain that just about all of them would have voted to keep the show on the air. But if it had remained on the air, it is doubtful that the episode that first aired on this night in 1977 never would have aired at all. It would have marked a significant shift in the direction of the show; it was probably best to leave it

In the episode "Lou Dates Mary," a date that ended badly prompted Mary (Mary Tyler Moore) to reflect on a lifetime of dating (2,000 dates by her calculation) and conclude that maybe there wasn't a "Mr. Right" in the cards for her.

She was telling this to Georgette (Georgia Engel) who suggested that Mary should date Lou Grant (Ed Asner). Initially, Mary scoffed at the suggestion, but it gradually dawned on her that Georgette might be right so she went into Lou's office and, even though her upbringing made it difficult for her to ask a man out, she did so, anyway.

When she did, Lou's response was probably what mine would be if a much younger female colleague came to me and told me she wanted to date me. He laughed. It was preposterous.

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But Mary was serious, and, after some deliberation, Lou accepted. They agreed to have dinner at Mary's place that night.

As the appointed hour drew near, though, Lou was vacillating. He and Murray (Gavin MacLeod) had drinks after the evening news was finished. They were going to talk, but Murray had no idea what they were going to talk about.

(Now, as a journalist, I have to point out something here. Perhaps I am nitpicking and, granted, my experience in journalism has been on the print side so take this with as many grains of salt as you require. We lived by deadlines. I presume that people in broadcasting live by deadlines as well, but their deadlines involve broadcast schedules.

(In every city in which I lived, the local TV stations had early and late newscasts. They were always live. The late newscast was never a tape of the broadcast from four hours earlier. Too much can — and does — happen in that span of time, and someone, usually several someones, must be there in case the weather turns bad or a jury reaches a verdict in a high–profile trial — or, as was the case here in Dallas last summer, some police officers get shot during a protest. Presumably the folks at WJM had a late newscast, too, but they were always socializing after their newscast — presumably the one at 6 p.m. — was over. If there was a later newscast, it must have been manned by other people.

(I've worked for newspapers that had multiple deadlines, but social lives were put on hold until after the final deadlines. I have long wondered how many people were moved to become journalists after watching the Mary Tyler Moore Show, believing it would be a regular 9–to–5 job that paid well enough for them to dine at fancy restaurants and have drinks in ritzy clubs in their off hours. Boy, were they in for a rude awakening!)

Anyway, Lou confided in Murray, who was stunned at first but ended up reassuring Lou that it wasn't such a ridiculous idea, and Lou proceeded to Mary's apartment.

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Lou didn't want to show up empty–handed so he brought flowers. But he couldn't remember Mary's favorite flower so he brought three bouquets — along with a bottle of wine, some chocolates and a can of mixed nuts.

Ladies, when was the last time a gentleman caller brought you three bouquets, a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates and a can of mixed nuts?

Even though Mary and Lou had known each other for seven years, this was a new situation, and there was the usual awkwardness of a first date.

"It's funny," Mary observed at one point, "the two of us who have known each other as long as we have suddenly ill at ease, in suspense ..."

"In suspense about what?" Lou asked.

"You know," Mary replied, "about what's going to happen. Both of us wondering whether you're gonna, you know, kiss me." Then she turned away from him in that kind of shy schoolgirl way young girls have of covering how much more worldly they are than they appear.

The evening was suspenseful for both of them. Mary ruled out shop talk, then they found it hard to make the kind of small talk one is apt to make on a first date. Finally, they decided they had to kiss before they could feel comfortable enough to decide where this relationship would lead.

And they both started to giggle in the middle of their kiss.

"That was really silly kissing you," Lou said with a grin.

"That turned out to be just so dumb!" Mary replied.

They both concluded that it wasn't going to work.

So they said "Good night" — to the date, that is — then sat down to finish their dinner — and talk shop.

It probably is true that the best romantic relationships start as friendships. But after a certain amount of time, as Lou and Mary learned on this night in 1977, good friends should probably just remain good friends.

The Night the Lights Went Out in Minneapolis

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Mary Tyler Moore was notorious in her 1970s sitcom for throwing epically lousy parties. It was a running joke, the kind that all the successful sitcoms have — you know, like Debra Barone's awful cooking or Michael Stivic's insatiable appetite. Or Fibber McGee's closet.

The mere mention of one of Mary's parties would cause eyes to roll and excuses to be made. Each party was worse than the one before, and it wasn't really a matter of being spectacularly bad. The parties generally weren't too bad — until one thing went wrong in a spectacular, only–at–one–of–Mary's–parties way.

That was what happened in the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that aired 40 years ago tonight, "Mary's Big Party."

Mary almost always believed that her next party was going to be a game changer for her, and this time was no exception. She was convinced that this party would be the one to change her reputation. After this she was certain that people would want to attend her parties, not avoid them.

A guest at the party was going to be a congresswoman with whom Mary was acquainted. But the congresswoman would not be the main attraction. The congresswoman had a special guest coming into town to M.C. a charity event — Johnny Carson — and she asked Mary to have a small dinner for him so they could be spared the crush of admirers they were sure to encounter at a restaurant.

Mary wouldn't reveal the name of the special guest so everyone in the newsroom came to the party to find out who it was — even though most clearly expected another one of Mary's disastrous parties. When Mary told Mr. Grant (Ed Asner) that this would be a terrific party, he replied, "It better be. I gave up tickets to midget wrestling."

Finally Mary could contain herself no longer, and she spilled the beans. When she did, Mr. Grant conceded that it might be a "fair" party after all.

Mary was feeling triumphant and insisted it was going to be a great party — when the lights started to flicker, and then the apartment was plunged into darkness. The only lights that could be seen were a few lights from a distant building visible through the glass doors leading to Mary's balcony. Apparently the power was out over most of the city.

Mary had a flashlight, but the batteries were dead. And she had candles — somewhere. They were left with no alternative but to talk in the dark. Mary fretted that this would be her worst party ever.

"That's impossible," Mr. Grant said. "You'd really have to go a long way to top some of the bad parties you've had."

And that set up a series of flashbacks to the bad parties in Mary's past.

For Mr. Grant, Mary's worst party had been one that she had thrown with her friend Rhoda (Valerie Harper), and Mary set him up with a blind date who "turned out to be a little old lady."

Sue Ann (Betty White) remembered when the congresswoman attended another one of Mary's parties, and Sue Ann prepared a special veal dish for the occasion — but with just enough for each guest to have a single portion. Then Rhoda showed up with a date (Henry Winkler). He had been one of Rhoda's co–workers, but he had just been fired, and Rhoda couldn't let him be alone when he was feeling so vulnerable.

Feeding him would be a problem with only six portions of the veal and six people already at the party. Rhoda told Mary that her friend could have half of her portion. Problem solved — temporarily.

Then, when Mary was serving the veal, Mr. Grant took three portions — and Mary had to talk him into putting two portions back. Reluctantly he did so, explaining to the other guests that "I'm not as hungry as I thought I was."

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Eventually Mary's special guests did show up. They had been stuck in the elevator when the power went out. They were only liberated after Johnny climbed through the trap door at the top.

Bear in mind that the stage was still cloaked in darkness. In that setting, Carson delivered one of the best deadpan lines I have ever heard: "Nice place you've got here."

Carson was never seen. I have heard that it was because he was under contract to NBC and could not be seen on the other two networks (the Mary Tyler Moore Show was on CBS). I don't know if that was true, but I do know it was a very entertaining episode, aired just two weeks before the series' grand finale.

Doing What Is Right

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Even after a lifetime of observing human activity, it still surprises me at times to see how superficial our judgments really are.

Last year's elections provide the perfect example. This is not a new thing, but it seems that more people than usual are willing to believe the worst about those who voted differently than they did. The flip side is that they are just as willing to overlook the shortcomings in those who voted the same as they did.

This doesn't apply only to politics. It applies to everything else. People in general are more comfortable believing the best about those with whom they share certain characteristics — age, race, gender, faith, education — and the worst about those with whom they have less in common. But those kinds of characteristics are superficial, and it is a mistake to trust — or distrust — anyone solely on those factors.

I think that must have been the lesson of the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show, "Some of My Best Friends Are Rhoda," that premiered on this night in 1972.

In the episode, Mary had been in a minor collision with a woman with whom she then struck up a friendship. They had been members of the same sorority — on different campuses but probably around the same time. They seemed to be about the same age.

When they came back to Mary's apartment, Rhoda (Valerie Harper) suggested that she and Mary play tennis. Mary's new friend picked up on that and suggested that Mary play with her. They agreed to do so.

Mary's relationship with this new friend really seemed to blossom, and Rhoda was getting jealous. She didn't try too hard to conceal it, either, although it's been my observation that people are more transparent than they think they are.

When Mary's friend wanted to find a fourth player for a doubles match at the tennis club, it was obvious fairly quickly that she did not want to invite Rhoda. She kept making excuses for not asking Rhoda to join them. Mary wanted to know why.

It turned out that the problem was that Rhoda was Jewish, and the tennis club didn't want Jews. Well, that was how Joanne presented it to Mary initially. But Joanne's true colors became clear.

Mary, a gentile, pretended to be Jewish. The instantaneous change in Joanne's facial expression spoke volumes.

So did the expression change on Joanne's face when, a minute later, Mary confessed that she was not Jewish after all.

"I knew that," an obviously relieved Joanne said. "Don't you think I knew that?"

"No," Mary replied. "I don't think you knew that. I think for a minute there you weren't sure — and it made a difference."

That was the end of their friendship, but Mary had stood for what she knew was right.

I seldom hear the episode mentioned, but it was a strong statement for its time — and one of the best Mary Tyler Moore Show episodes.

A Time for Being Damn Sweet

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"There are plenty of times in life when you do the competent, responsible thing. But every once in awhile we need to be damn sweet. If we're lucky, we'll never have to regret it."

Lou Grant (Ed Asner)

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Mary Tyler Moore, who died a few days ago, wasn't always the focus of her own show. That was part of what made The Mary Tyler Moore Show so great. There were many talented people involved with that show. The cast was first rate, and so was the writing.

Mary often had to take a backseat to others — and it always worked.

And on this night in 1977, in the episode "Sue Ann Gets the Ax," the sexually insatiable Sue Ann Nivens (played by Betty White, who won two Emmys for her work) lost her job. Her program, The Happy Homemaker, had been canceled due to low ratings.

Sue Ann tried to put up a brave front. She had been offered work doing odd jobs at WJM so she wasn't exactly being thrown out in the street, and she indicated to the folks in the newsroom that she wasn't going to be beaten by what was clearly a demotion. In the privacy of Mr. Grant's (Ed Asner) office, though, she confessed that her show had been the best thing that had ever happened to her and that she no longer wanted to live.

She asked Mr. Grant for a job in the newsroom, and he tried to wriggle out, claiming that the task of hiring and firing in the newsroom was Mary's. So Sue Ann asked him to ask Mary to give her a job. With a decided lack of enthusiasm, he agreed to do so.

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At that point, it wasn't actually one of Mary's responsibilities to hire and fire people, though, so Mr. Grant had to do something about that. His solution was to tell Mary that he had decided to give her more authority in the newsroom. At first, Mary was elated. Mr. Grant made it sound like she was going to play a more significant role in how things were done in the newsroom, and she was pleased.

Until she found out that Sue Ann wanted a job in the newsroom — and concluded (correctly) that she had been given this new authority only because Mr. Grant couldn't say no to Sue Ann. But Mary could — and did.

So Sue Ann began recording "house ads" — a few seconds of voice–overs promoting upcoming programs on WJM recorded in a tiny booth with Sam (Louis Guss) the engineer and under–the–table groper.

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Things went from bad to worse for Sue Ann. She left the voice–over work to be Aunt Daisy on a program called the Uncle Bucky Show — presumably WJM's replacement for Chuckles the Clown, who, as show aficionados know, died in an episode that aired a couple of years earlier. I don't recall Uncle Bucky ever being mentioned again. Chuckles, on the other hand, had been a frequently mentioned but almost never seen presence at the station.

In that part of the episode, Sue Ann got told off by two rabbit hand puppets and was ordered off the set. She went to the newsroom and told Mr. Grant and Mary that she had resigned, calling her experience with the puppets "the final humiliation."

Mary felt bad for Sue Ann, but she insisted that she believed she had made the right decision. Sue Ann begged Mr. Grant to ask Mary to change her mind, and he tried to convince her, but he couldn't make her budge.

What did make her budge, though, was Sue Ann, who was dissolving into tears. Mary could resist no longer and gave Sue Ann a job. Sue Ann thanked her profusely and promised never to let her down.

After she left, Mr. Grant told Mary, "That was a nice thing you did."

"That was a terrible thing I did," Mary replied. "I hired someone for all the wrong reasons — not on the basis of merit or qualifications but simply because I felt sorry for her."

"That's not such a terrible reason," Mr. Grant insisted. "What's wrong with that?"

"There are people who went to journalism school who worked long hard hours to get a chance at a job in this newsroom," she said. "And they deserved it. And now they won't get that chance because I weakened, because I felt guilty, because I had pity for someone."

"It's not the first time it's happened," Mr. Grant replied.

"Well, a good news executive wouldn't have done that," Mary said.

"I did," Mr. Grant said.

"When?" Mary asked.

"Seven years ago," Mr. Grant said, "a young girl walked into my office, and even though she had never been in a newsroom before, she had the audacity to sputter out a request for a job as an associate producer. Know who I'm talking about?"

Mary nodded. "I didn't have very many qualifications, did I?"

"You had zilch. Did I ever tell you the reason I hired you?" Mary shook her head. "A little run. A tiny little run in your stocking on your knee. You kept trying to cover it up."

"And you noticed that?"

"It's hard not to notice something with two hands, a pocketbook and a leg over it," he replied. "I thought to myself, 'What kind of a girl is this who is so afraid of a thing like that?' Do you think that was a bad reason to hire you?"

"It was kind of sweet."

"It was damn sweet," Mr. Grant replied. "There are plenty of times in life when you do the competent, responsible thing. But every once in awhile we need to be damn sweet. If we're lucky, we'll never have to regret it."

That was a good lesson, one that is worth an occasional reminder because people do tend to forget it. It's a timeless message, really, that has been expressed in many different ways. I suppose it is a variation on the wisdom from the Bible, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

After all, as John Donne wrote, "No man is an island."

But then, in typical Mary Tyler Moore Show fashion, came the punch line.

As Mr. Grant walked toward his office, Mary asked him, "Mr. Grant, have you ever regretted hiring me? I've done a pretty good job, haven't I?"

It took courage to ask that. After all, no matter how well you think you have done your job, you can never be sure what an employer will say when asked those questions. Mary was really putting her self–image on the line, and initially Mr. Grant was reassuring.

"Pretty good?" Mr. Grant asked. "You kidding? You've done a whale of a job. You've been just great."

Then came the punch line.

"Until you went and hired Sue Ann."

When Love Was All Around

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"Love is all around,
No need to waste it.
You can have a town.
Why don't you take it?
You're gonna make it after all."

Paul Williams

---

Mary Tyler Moore died today — and so did another piece of my childhood.

Saturday nights in the 1970s were that generation's must–see TV — in no small part because of Moore. Oh, sure, there were others who contributed to it. All in the Family got things started, followed by M*A*S*H, followed by Moore, followed by The Bob Newhart Show, followed by The Carol Burnett Show. All great shows with great casts. It was truly a golden age for television.

I had dinner with my father tonight, and we reminisced about Moore. Dad still remembers episodes of that show and chuckles at the thought of them. Now that's comedy. When you can think about a sitcom episode you saw more than 40 years ago and you still laugh, you know it was good comedy.

And The Mary Tyler Moore Show was good comedy. Dad still laughs at the thought of almost every character on that show — Mr. Grant, Murray, Ted, Sue Ann, Georgette, Rhoda, Phyllis and especially Mary. They were all so well defined by the people who portrayed them. If there is such a thing as a flawless sitcom, The Mary Tyler Moore Show was one.

Around my house — and millions more, no doubt — the routine on Saturday nights was to settle in for three hours of almost nonstop quality entertainment on CBS. There was seldom a reason to change the channel.

Clearly it was a collective effort, and there were many memorable characters on TV in those days, but Moore always stood out. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also very talented, a once–in–a–lifetime kind of talent.

By the '70s, Moore wasn't exactly a new face. She had been Dick Van Dyke's award–winning co–star on The Dick Van Dyke Show for five years in the '60s, then she dabbled in movies for a few years before she returned to the small screen. When she made her return, she did so as a single working woman. There were lots of single working women in the real world, but none that I can recall on television.

They found a voice in Moore. She was a great role model for those women — for everyone, really, but especially for those single working women, some of whom were also mothers. Moore didn't play a mother in her role as Mary Richards, but she made her own contributions to the challenges of parenting, both in her personal life and on the stage.

After her TV show came to an end in 1977, she made more movies. Her most noteworthy had to be "Ordinary People," Robert Redford's directorial debut. Ironically, the movie made its theatrical debut about a month before Moore's only child accidentally shot and killed himself.

That was the movie that showed the world just how talented Moore was. She wasn't merely the warm and loving Laura Petrie or Mary Richards of her successful sitcoms. She was also the icy, emotionally distant Beth whose family was falling apart in the wake of her oldest son's death.

Apart from her acting, Moore was an animal rights advocate and a spokeswoman for issues related to diabetes, a disease from which she suffered for more than half her life.

In the '70s, Moore was known as a liberal and generally supported Democrats, but she became a self–described "libertarian centrist" who leaned conservative and watched Fox News. In 2009 Parade magazine reported that she said she would have campaigned for Republican John McCain in 2008 if she had been asked.

She led a remarkable life, and the world was privileged to share it with her.

Be Careful What You Wish For

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Karl (Eric Braeden): What you're watching at this very moment is a classic example of what's wrong with television in this town. It is the pursuit of personality at the expense of competence.

Ted (Ted Knight): I'm not sure I understand.

Karl: I'm sure you don't.

---

The episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that first aired on this night 40 years ago, "The Critic," began innocuously enough — Mr. Grant (Ed Asner) was trying to put together a softball team to play WJM's crosstown rival.

But Mr. Grant and the rest of the staff had to leave the newsroom to attend the station manager's reception for Professor Karl Heller (Eric Braeden), a well–known critic who was going to be teaching some classes at the University of Minnesota. He also happened to be a friend of the station manager (David Ogden Stiers, in a pre–M*A*S*H recurring role), who had decided to hire him as an on–air critic at WJM one night a week.

The station manager said the news had become stale and predictable; he wanted controversy because controversy builds ratings.

As the staffers tried to make conversations with him, mentioning plays and movies that they had liked, it dawned on them that the professor was negative about everything.

Murray (Gavin MacLeod), for example, told the professor that he loved watching movies on TV. "That's where they belong," the professor replied.

"Come on, you must like some movies," Murray said.

"Well, at best, which it seldom is," the professor conceded, "a film can be powerful. There was one absolutely first–rate Ukrainian film at the last festival. It was called 'Blood On A Dog's Face.' It was about deformity. But somehow the subtitles missed all the whimsy."

When he left the professor, Murray walked over to Mr. Grant. "You want to know something?" Murray asked. "That guy's a pain in the neck."

"I have an even lower opinion of him," Mr. Grant replied.

In his first appearance on WJM, the professor pledged to spend the coming weeks evaluating the people of Minneapolis and trying to determine "why no first–rate art has ever been created in this vacant — but intellectually famished — arid and sterile city."

If the station manager wanted controversy, he got it. "That is the cruelest man I have ever seen," the perpetually amorous Sue Ann (Betty White) told her colleagues in the newsroom. "I think I am in love!"

The professor's commentary about Minneapolis had the phones ringing off their hooks. And it persuaded the station manager that one night a week wasn't enough. He wanted the critic to be on the air every night.

Things cut a little too close to the bone, though, when the professor turned his spotlight on WJM.

And he got told off by, of all people, normally timid Mary.

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After she finished, Mr. Grant and Murray were about to throw some punches at the professor when he pointed out that they would not do so because he had stated an honest opinion, and people in the news business don't attack people for that.

Sue Ann came in carrying a pie. She was angry about what the professor had said about her show in his critique, but he used the same rationale to mollify her. "You're sensible, rational people," he said, "and sensible, rational people do not throw either pies or punches at someone's face for simply stating an honest opinion. Only a fool would vent his frustration in those ways."

At that moment, Ted walked into the newsroom and pushed Sue Ann's hand that was holding the pie into the professor's face.

It was unanimous.

Strength in Numbers

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Did you ever have a job in which you felt underpaid and unappreciated, and you deserved a raise, but you kept running into brick walls at work so you fantasized about leaving your job suddenly, but you didn't for any of a number of reasons?

If you have — and most of us probably have — you can sympathize with the situation confronting Mary Tyler Moore in the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that aired on this night in 1976, "Look at Us, We're Walking."

Mary hadn't had a raise in three years, and she decided to approach Lou Grant (Ed Asner) about a raise when she realized she had $400 to her name. (I know that doesn't sound like much, but to put it in perspective, when you adjust that for inflation, it would have the buying power of about $1,700 in 2016 dollars.) Before she did, though, she went through all the possible reasons Lou would say prevented him from being able to give her a raise.

But she didn't anticipate the reason he gave. It was out of his hands, he told her. Such decisions were being made by the TV station's new manager.

The station manager wouldn't give either a raise, Lou said, figuring that if one quit, the other would pick up the slack on the production end. His logic was that neither could get a raise because both were good at their jobs. "If we were both incompetents," Lou told Mary, "we'd have 'em over a barrel."

This was a situation, Lou told Mary, that called for solidarity. They should go to the station manager's office and demand that both be given raises.

Mary wasn't especially keen on that idea, especially after the meeting with the station manager. He gave them two weeks to change their minds before he replaced them.

They didn't change their minds, though, and Mary was struggling to occupy the time. Lou was finding projects to keep him busy — like painting a chair for the 27th time. "I figure it will take a year and a half to dry," he said.

Mary was wavering. They had a talk and solidarity was restored.

But Mary was feeling a financial squeeze. When Ted (Ted Knight) and Georgette (Georgia Engel) came by to visit, Mary told Georgette that, for the first time in her life, she was in debt "up to my ear lobes."

"What a classy place to be in debt up to," the ever–positive Georgette replied.

She persuaded a reluctant Mary to accept money from them, then she persuaded a reluctant Ted to give Mary a blank check. ("It's better that way," she told him. "Better for who?" Ted asked.) Pretty impressive for the normally mousy Georgette.

---

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Neither accomplishment was insignificant, but it was the last straw for Mary. She called Lou and told him she was going to renegotiate her contract.

"Don't tell me things aren't that bad yet," she said into the telephone receiver. "I just accepted money from Ted Baxter!"

In the end they came back to work for WJM — and got what must have been by 1976 standards pretty good raises.

Never Assume

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Things aren't always what they seem to be — or don't seem to be. I don't know about you, but I learned that the hard way — and, on this night 40 years ago, so did Mary Tyler Moore. Well, I guess she did. That point was uncertain when the episode ended. But the audience sure did learn it.

In the episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show that premiered on this night in 1976, Mary and Mr. Grant (Ed Asner) were going to a seminar in Washington, D.C., that was devoted to politics and the press.

It was going to be like a homecoming for Mr. Grant. He had covered Washington for the Detroit Free Press in his younger days, and he boasted to Mary about the connections he had made; they were the kind of people, he told her, who would show her the Washington that tourists seldom, if ever, saw.

But first Lou had to deal with Ted (Ted Knight) who reminded Lou that he had promised Ted could go on the next free trip that came up. Ted rationalized the decision out loud, suggesting that Mr. Grant had opted to leave Ted in charge of the newsroom because he needed a steady hand at the wheel. Mr. Grant went along with that, apparently figuring it was the easiest way to get Ted off his back. But it was not smooth sailing. Ted insisted that Mr. Grant tell Murray (Gavin MacLeod) that Ted would be in charge while he was away.

Murray didn't take that news well and refused to wish Mary and Lou a good trip when they departed.

Once they arrived in Washington, Lou put out some feelers and waited for the calls from his connections. Mary wanted to go to a restaurant for dinner, but Lou assured her that there were probably five really good parties in progress in D.C. that evening. He said they should wait at the hotel for some calls to come in.

"I've never been to Washington before," Mary protested. "It's my first night in the capitol. I want to see some of it."

Lou told her she shouldn't worry. She was going to see the whole city. At that moment, the phone rang. Lou was sure it was one of his connections, but it turned out to be for Mary. It was someone she had met earlier who invited her to a party at the French embassy.

But Lou nixed the embassy party. "We're gonna do a lot better than that," he assured Mary. So Mary turned it down.

A minute later, the phone rang again — but, once again, it was for Mary.

"What did you do, write your number on a wall?" Lou asked testily.

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Actually, it was a congressman Mary had met earlier at the seminar, and Lou tried to get reservations for the two of them to have dinner at the best place in town. But it turned out that his connection there, the head waiter, had died 10 years earlier.

"I guess he died without mentioning how close we were," Lou told the person on the other end of the line.

The congressman called up and got a reservation there with no trouble, and he and Mary left Lou in his hotel room.

The next day, Mary and Lou compared notes on their evenings. Lou, as it turned out, hadn't talked to anyone after Mary left. He dozed off and thus may have missed calls — if any came in. But he was determined to wait it out again that night. "Sometimes you have to wait around like that if you want a really good time," he told Mary.

He insisted that he wasn't losing his faith in his buddies, but Mary was, and she went out on the town again that night, leaving Lou alone in his hotel room.

When she got back to the hotel later, she went to Lou's room and told him she was sorry he hadn't joined them. They had gone to a party in Georgetown where she met the assistant secretary of Defense.

Lou said he was sorry that Mary hadn't stayed with him that evening. A couple of old friends came by, he said.

Mary was pleased to hear that. She said she was sure he had had a wonderful time seeing old friends again, and Lou said he did.

"John Glenn told the funniest story," Lou said.

"John Glenn the astronaut?" Mary asked. Lou said yes.

"John Glenn is an old friend of yours?" Mary asked.

"No, I never met him before," Lou replied. "He came with Hubert."

"Hubert?" Mary asked.

"Humphrey," Lou replied. "Anyway, it was the funniest story. I thought Eric Sevareid was gonna bust a gut!"

The conversation went on like that. Sevareid wasn't able to stay long, he said, because he was giving Ethel Kennedy a lift. "How did she get home?" Mary asked.

"The Fords gave her a ride," Lou said, referring to then–President and Mrs. Ford. It certainly would have made sense that Lou, as an employee of the Detroit newspaper, would have had dealings with Michigan Congressman Gerald Ford in the years before he became Richard Nixon's vice president and, eventually, his successor. Ford, after all, represented his district in Michigan for a quarter of a century. Nevertheless, Mary made a face.

Lou leaned forward. "Mary," he said, "you don't believe the president was here tonight, do you?"

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"Well, of course, I believe the president was here," Mary replied. "Was Lincoln here, too?"

It was at that moment that the phone rang. On the other end of the line was Betty Ford, the first lady. She was looking for the president's pipe. It was his favorite pipe, and he thought it might have fallen from his pocket. Mary looked and found it under a sofa cushion. She held it out and said, in a mocking tone, "What do you know? The president's pipe."

Mrs. Ford asked Lou if she could speak to Mary so he handed her the phone.

"Hello, Mary?" and the screen showed the first lady speaking on the phone, presumably from the White House. "This is Betty Ford."

"Hello, Betty," the still disbelieving Mary replied. "This is Mary ... Queen of Scots."

A couple of interesting trivia points:

First, I have heard that the people behind the Mary Tyler Moore Show wanted President Ford to make the cameo appearance. But it was the start of an election year, and President Ford was seeking the Republican nomination. It was decided that an appearance on the Mary Tyler Moore Show, which ranked #19 at the end of the 1975–76 season, might be considered an advertisement for — if not an endorsement of — his re–election. So Mrs. Ford was selected instead.

Second, Mary Tyler Moore wrote in her autobiography that Betty Ford was drunk when she filmed her scene. I don't know if that was true. I have seen that episode a number of times, and I can't tell if she is drunk in it — but I do know that a few years later she went through recovery and established the Betty Ford Center in Rancho Mirage, Calif., for the treatment of chemical dependency.

The Day Ted and Georgette Got Married

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Mary (Mary Tyler Moore): You do love him?

Georgette (Georgia Engel): Of course, Mary. Somebody has to!

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The Mary Tyler Moore Show was consistently good for seven years, then voluntarily bowed out while the ratings were still high. In other words, they left 'em begging for more.

The episode that aired 40 years ago tonight has always been one of my favorites. It was sitcom script writing at its finest performed flawlessly by a top–notch cast. Ahhhh, they just don't write 'em — or perform 'em — like that anymore. More's the pity.

The episode that made its debut on this night in 1975 centered on something that we've all experienced — a wedding. Even if you have never been married, you have probably participated in one or, at least, attended one. Maybe more than one.

And, centered around this universal theme, the story gave perfect capsule glimpses into the hearts and souls of the characters in the series.

Yet, true to tradition, this wedding was about the bride, Georgette (Georgia Engel). She was the girlfriend of Ted Baxter (Ted Knight) and a recent addition to the ensemble. The viewing audience hadn't had much of a chance to get to know her yet, but that would change. Yes, this wedding, like all the others, was about the bride. Strangely, though, the title of the episode was "Ted's Wedding."

Let me share samples of the dialogue with you.

The episode opened with Georgette and Ted having Saturday brunch at Mary's apartment. Mary was trying to be sensitive to Georgette's concerns that everyone in the newsroom treated Ted with disdain, but Ted really hadn't been helping his own cause, even with Georgette. For months, he had been proposing to her, she had accepted, then he found a way to get out of it and she allowed him to do so. This had happened so often that Ted was treated like the fabled boy who cried wolf. No one, least of all Georgette, took his proposals seriously.

Anyway, Mary was making an effort to include Ted in more things, and her way to get the ball rolling was to invite Ted and Georgette to brunch at her apartment. She also tried to include Mr. Grant (Ed Asner), explaining to him that this kind of thing would make Ted a better anchorman — instead of being preconditioned to be oafish and vain by the negative perceptions of his peers.

Adopting a professorial demeanor, Mr. Grant told Mary that she was speaking of the "self–fulfilling prophecy," in which a person's behavior is governed by the assumptions of others. People expect a certain kind of behavior from someone, be it good or bad, and that is precisely what they get.

Mary was fascinated to learn that there was an entire theory devoted to what she had been thinking. She was also gratified that Mr. Grant understood what she was talking about, and that knowledge emboldened her.

She said she wanted Mr. Grant to join them for brunch, and, in one of the most delightful exchanges I believe I have ever seen, Mr. Grant wiggled out of it by asking Mary what her assumption had been about his response. She conceded that she had assumed that he would say no.

"Well, there you are!" Mr. Grant exclaimed with a triumphant grin on his face. "Personally, I'd have loved to have come. I probably would have had the time of my life. But your previous assumption made it impossible for me to come. You do see that, don't you, Mary?"

And so it was that Mary found herself having brunch alone with Ted and Georgette. Mary complimented Georgette on her dress, and Ted was inspired to propose — again — this time with an onion roll in his mouth.

But this proposal was met with a frosty resistance from Georgette, who asked Mary if she and Ted could have a few minutes of privacy. Mary went into her bedroom.

Georgette told Ted she had doubts that he had ever been serious about marrying her. "If you really wanted to marry me," she said, "you wouldn't talk about it. You'd do it."

Ted protested that he'd get married that day if he could.

"We can, Ted," Georgette countered. "We've had the blood test. We have the license, and it's still valid. We can call and get a minister over here. We can call our friends and tell them to come over here. What else do we need?"

Then mousy Georgette, usually so soft–spoken you couldn't hear her if she was shouting into a megaphone, delivered her character's best line ever. With her hands on her hips, she said, "So whaddya say, buster? Ya still wanna get married?"

Ted was just as assertive in his reply. "Yes, I do."

Then came The Shriek. I know you've heard The Shriek. You may even have emitted a Shriek — but only if you're a female. It seems to be a biological characteristic that only females possess.

The Shriek brought Mary running into the living room. "What would you do if I told you there's going to be a minister over here with all our friends in the next half hour to have a wedding?" Georgette asked her.

Mary's reply: "Vacuum!"

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Getting the wedding together in half an hour was a bit more problematic.

Mary called Mr. Grant and had to talk him into coming over instead of watching a basketball game. Besides, she said, if everything was done quickly, he could get to the bar before the game was over.

Murray (Gavin MacLeod) had to be dragged away from his son's football game — he was the coach.

The minister was playing tennis, but Georgette said his wife had assured her she would try to get in touch with him. Georgette didn't tell the minister's wife why he was needed. She only said it was an emergency.

"I wasn't sure he'd interrupt a tennis game for a wedding," she told Mary.

Ted tried to get his mother to come over, but she declined. After hanging up, Ted explained that she had to wash her hair. "But we can save her a piece of cake," Ted said. "We do have a piece of cake, don't we, Mary?"

"The whole wedding was put together in half an hour," Mary replied as the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. "You can't expect too much preparation on that kind of notice."

Enter Sue Ann (Betty White), the Happy Homemaker, radiant in wedding attire and carrying flowers for the ceremony, champagne and rice for after the ceremony and a veil for Georgette to wear — as well as a gift for the "happy couple." Sue Ann was always the bridesmaid, never the bride, and she was always ready for the occasion. And she wouldn't tolerate slackers. "What are you all standing around with your thumbs up your noses for?" she demanded. "We've got to get this show on the road!"

Part of getting that show on the road was settling on a best man, and Mr. Grant wound up with the honor.

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Turned out his primary responsibility as best man was to reassure Ted that he was doing the right thing.

"If you're going to get married," Mr. Grant told Ted, "you're going to have to stop acting the way you do."

"What way?" Ted asked.

"The way you act," Mr. Grant said somewhat evasively. But he could see he wasn't getting through so he tried a different approach.

"Ted, what I'm trying to say is, you gotta become different."

Ted still didn't understand.

"Look," an increasingly exasperated Mr. Grant said, "you know how you always are?"

Ted said, "Yeah."

"Don't be that way," Mr. Grant told Ted.

The minister was played by John Ritter, and he arrived dressed in his tennis clothes and carrying a tennis racquet. He was newly ordained and unprepared to conduct a wedding ceremony, but Georgette suggested that they should each say something instead of repeating vows. Ted, as an anchorman, was accustomed to having Murray write the words he would deliver so he had Murray come over next to him and whisper in his ear what he should say. It came out like this:

"Georgette, I promise ... to be a devoted husband ... and to never give you cause ... to regret ... having married ... such a cluck!"

Anyway, when the wedding was over and everyone had left, Mary, Ted and Georgette looked at each other.

"Well," Mary said.

"Well," Georgette said.

"Well," Ted said. "What's for dessert?"

Dysfunction Junction

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"Don't admire people too much. They might disappoint you."

Cal (Donald Sutherland)

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"Families can go along for years without ever facing the underlying problems in their relationships," Roger Ebert wrote. "But sometimes a tragedy can bring everything out in the open, all of sudden and painfully, just when everyone's most vulnerable."

That, Ebert said, was the underlying premise of "Ordinary People," which premiered on this day in 1980. It was a remarkable achievement for first–time director Robert Redford and a great cast that included Mary Tyler Moore, Judd Hirsch, Donald Sutherland, Timothy Hutton and Elizabeth McGovern.

It may have been even more remarkable for Moore and Hirsch, who almost certainly were best known for their TV comedy performances when this movie was made. Both were rewarded with Oscar nominations — as were Hutton (who won) and Redford (who also won). I guess everyone couldn't be nominated — and Hutton beat castmate Hirsch for Best Supporting Actor — but Sutherland was left out. I will confess that I didn't understand that. I thought then — and I still think today — that his performance was one of the best of his career.

And, while I like McGovern, I didn't really think her performance merited an Oscar nomination.

The movie richly deserved the Oscars it received — but it could be very difficult to watch. Once was probably enough for most people. It was gritty. It was candid. It was emotionally uncompromising.

That does not make for the kind of movie that most people want to watch for entertainment. While there are probably exceptions to that, I can't say that I know anyone who has a copy of it in his/her DVD collection.

"Ordinary People" picked up the loose threads of an ordinary American family in emotional turmoil after the death in a boating accident of the oldest son. That tragedy exposed those unaddressed issues, like a festering sore, of which Ebert spoke. Most families have them (I'm tempted to say all families have them, but I suppose I should leave open the possibility that there are some exceptions to that rule — although, personally, I doubt it), those issues of which no one speaks until circumstances leave them no choice.

In "Ordinary People," I suppose the most jarring performance against type was delivered by Moore, whose career up to that point had been in popular sitcoms. Her performance as the emotionally distant and apparently unfeeling mother was hugely effective; Redford said it was the heart of the piece, and Moore played the part to perfection.

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Beth (Mary Tyler Moore): Calvin? Why are you crying? Can I ... can I get you something?

Cal (Donald Sutherland): I don't ...

Beth: What did you say? Calvin, what did you say? Tell me!

Cal: You are beautiful. And you are unpredictable. But you're so cautious. You're determined, Beth; but you know something? You're not strong. And I don't know if you're really giving. Tell me something. Do you love me? You really love me?

Beth: I feel the way I've always felt about you.

Cal: We would have been all right if there hadn't been any mess. But you can't handle mess. You need everything neat and easy. I don't know. Maybe you can't love anybody. It was so much Buck. When Buck died, it was as if you buried all your love with him, and I don't understand that, I just don't know, I don't ... maybe it wasn't even Buck; maybe it was just you. Maybe, finally, it was the best of you that you buried. But whatever it was ... I don't know who you are. I don't know what we've been playing at. So I was crying. Because I don't know if I love you anymore. And I don't know what I'm going to do without that.

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Ebert described the family flawlessly.

"There's the surviving son, who always lived in his big brother's shadow, who tried to commit suicide after the accident, who has now just returned from a psychiatric hospital," wrote Ebert. "There's the father, a successful Chicago attorney who has always taken the love of his family for granted. There's the wife, an expensively maintained, perfectly groomed, cheerful homemaker whom 'everyone loves.' The movie begins just as all of this is falling apart."

At the heart of what Ebert calls the "falling apart" of this family was "the complexities of love." Moore, as I say, was the icy character everyone thought she was, incapable of loving her husband or her youngest son, at least to the extent that she clearly loved her first born. Sutherland played her husband, a truly sympathetic character who wanted to love and support his wife and surviving son but, like so many men of his generation, had trouble expressing his emotions.

Hutton, as the youngest son, suffered the most from the death of his brother. Ebert called him "tortured," and that is a good description. He blamed himself for what happened to his brother. He was always afraid — and he was resentful of the fact that his mother clearly favored his brother over him. As Ebert observed, he attempted suicide — and spent four months in a psychiatric hospital. Yep, lots of issues for this family.

Hirsch played a psychiatrist who tried to help Hutton's character. Next to Moore's, his performance was probably the most jarring for audiences of 1980. At the time, Hirsch was probably best known for playing Alex the affable cab driver on Taxi. In "Ordinary People," he had to deal with post–traumatic stress disorder and survivor's guilt. That's a pretty toxic cocktail.

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But he helped Hutton's character tremendously, at one point telling him, "A little advice about feelings, kiddo. Don't expect it always to tickle."

As I wrote earlier, "Ordinary People" richly deserved the Oscars it received — the three I have already mentioned and a fourth one for Best Adapted Screenplay.

When Ted Baxter Met Walter Cronkite

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Mary (Mary Tyler Moore): [meeting Walter Cronkite] So nice to meet you. Really. Nice. Nice. Really.

Murray (Gavin MacLeod): [meeting Walter Cronkite] So nice to meet you. Really. Nice. Really.

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It probably isn't most people's favorite Mary Tyler Moore Show episode.

Most people would probably say the "Chuckles Bites the Dust" episode is their favorite — and that would be hard to dispute.

And I do like that one.

But I also like the one that aired 40 years ago tonight, "Ted Baxter Meets Walter Cronkite."

When I was a kid, Cronkite was trusted by just about everyone — so much so that some people actually called him "Uncle Walter"

I don't remember how the writers for the Mary Tyler Moore Show established that Ted Baxter (Ted Knight) was an admirer of Cronkite. Maybe it was never really established — except for the presumption that viewers knew that the Mary Tyler Moore Show and Cronkite's evening news program were on the same network — CBS.

But Ted definitely was an admirer of Cronkite.

He also openly coveted a Teddy Award, the fictional (at least, I think it is) award for broadcasting excellence in the Minneapolis–St. Paul market, but he had never won one.

He had his acceptance speech all ready, and he launched into it on several occasions, often when he failed to win the award.

But this time he got to recite it for real — largely because he had campaigned for it. Uncharacteristically for Ted, he had invested a lot of money in it. I don't remember if the writers made him the only WJM staffer to win an award that night or not. I just remember that Ted won a Teddy, and the others resented the way he had won it.

The fact that Ted won a Teddy was enough to irritate his co–workers even if one or more also won a Teddy — but then came the coup de grâce — Cronkite was in town to see Lou (Ed Asner) and he happened to come by the TV station.

Lou had no choice but to introduce them. After introducing Cronkite to Mary and Murray, neither of whom distinguished themselves in the presence of such an important journalist, Lou introduced the legendary newsman to Ted — who had the idea that, somehow, Cronkite's visit was an unannounced audition for him. If he did well enough, Ted reasoned, he would be invited to be Cronkite's partner on the evening news.

So Ted took over, putting his arm around Cronkite's shoulder and delivering one of my all–time favorite lines: "Well, Walt, let's talk shop. Which words do you have trouble pronouncing?"

As they walked out the door of the newsroom, Ted was reciting that evening's newscast to Cronkite, who glanced back at Lou and said, "I'm going to get you for this."