Major Winchester Passes Away

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Charles (David Ogden Stiers): What is that odor?

Radar (Gary Burghoff): Uh, north wind, cesspool; east wind, latrine.

Charles: The wind is from the south.

Radar: Oh, that's the kitchen.

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David Ogden Stiers was not a charter member of the cast of TV's MASH. He was a midseries replacement for Larry Linville, who played the inept Frank Burns in the first five seasons of the series.

But Charles Emerson Winchester III, the character Stiers played, was far from inept. He was, in fact, a top–notch surgeon — and by the time the series ended 35 years ago (as of last Wednesday), he had long since ceased to be regarded as a replacement but a full–fledged cast member. When all was said and done, he appeared in more episodes than Linville — in fact, only seven other people appeared in more episodes than he did, and all but two (Harry Morgan and Mike Farrell) had been in the cast from the start.

Stiers died yesterday at the age of 75. He had been suffering from bladder cancer.

Stiers may always be remembered as Charles Emerson Winchester III, a role for which he earned two Emmy nominations, but he played many roles in his career, and much of his work was providing the voices for characters in film and TV projects.

He may be equally remembered for his work on Disney movies, particularly 1991's "Beauty and the Beast," after his MASH days were over.

Personally, there are a couple of his post–MASH performances that stand out in my memory. A few years after MASH ended, Stiers was Alexander Haig in a TV movie based on Woodward and Bernstein's book "The Final Days" about the end of the Nixon presidency. The other memory is his appearance on Frasier as a former research colleague of Frasier's mother who was visiting Seattle after many years living abroad.

In MASH, Stiers' character was known for his fondness for classical music. In reality, he was a talented musician who was resident conductor of the Newport Symphony in Newport, Ore., where he lived and died, and he was guest conductor for more than 70 orchestras the world over.

Few people were as versatile as Stiers, and I will always remember that versatility on MASH, but I saw him in other roles and was always impressed by his talent.

Rest in peace, Major.

Analysis of a Letter

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"As you pointed out, Sigmund, there's a link between anger and wit. Anger turned inward is depression. Anger turned sideways is Hawkeye."

Sidney (Allan Arbus)

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In the episode of M*A*S*H that first aired on this night in 1976, "Dear Sigmund," Dr. Sidney Freedman (Allan Arbus) was making one of his frequent visits to the 4077th. There really were times during the series when Sidney seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

But there was a method to his madness. He believed "there's something special" about the unit — a healing quality — so, when he went there one night to play poker, he wound up staying for weeks trying to resolve problems he was having with a case that had turned out badly. After working with a patient for a long time — and believing they were on the verge of a breakthrough — Freedman's patient "listened to the voices" in his head that had been telling him to end his life.

It was a "Richard Cory" kind of tale. At least it struck me that way. I don't know if Sidney's patient was wealthy or not; I only know he had been having problems and was seeking psychiatric help.

Anyway, in a letter Sidney was writing to Sigmund Freud, he referred to the compound as a "kind of spa," reporting that "the waters are pretty good here." (I presume that would only be if they were mixed with some of Hawkeye's and B.J.'s homemade hooch.)

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Speaking of Hawkeye (Alan Alda), Freedman wrote about how Hawkeye had made the rounds in post–op one day "with a personality that had split 2 for 1" — and a pair of diver's flippers on his feet.

Most of Sidney's letter dealt with different ways the M*A*S*H folks found to occupy themselves during their down time — one of which was the poker game. By far the thing that occupied most people's thoughts and actions was a wave of practical jokes that had been sweeping the compound. No one knew who the practical jokester was or who might be his next victim.

The viewer always knew when the jokester had struck, though. One time a bench in the mess hall tipped over when someone sat at the end of it. Another time Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) got black rings around his eyes after using binoculars.

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The joker turned out to be B.J. (Mike Farrell). Sidney found out when he discovered B.J. filling a hole in the ground with water. Frank Burns (Larry Linville) had been digging the holes to be prepared for air raids.

"As loud as you can," B.J. said to Sidney after enlisting his help in the practical joke, "shout 'Air raid!'" Which he did — and Frank came running out of the tent and dove into the hole, not realizing it was full of water.

On what was apparently a very cold first day of spring, the folks in the compound gathered outside for a brief ceremonial unveiling of a cherry blossom they had been trying to grow. They quickly covered it up and returned it to a makeshift greenhouse where it had been kept — and apparently would remain until springlike weather arrived to rejuvenate the frozen earth.

Sidney felt rejuvenated enough by that point to leave, observing as he did that happiness is "like springtime at M*A*S*H. If you can't see it or find it, you just go ahead and make it."

Which is pretty good advice.

A Midsummer Night at M*A*S*H 4077th

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"As of last Tuesday, our C.P.A. is a certified public enemy — having been incarcerated on five counts of fraud, two counts of embezzlement and countless counts concerning accounts for which he cannot ... account."

Charles (David Ogden Stiers)

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I don't think it is necessary to have seen very many episodes of M*A*S*H before it occurs to you that the South Korea of the M*A*S*H universe was always either bitterly cold or brutally hot.

That is probably a bit of an exaggeration — but only a bit. The Korean weather was frequently the subject of jokes on the series, occasionally running for entire episodes, like the one that first aired on this night in 1981, "No Sweat."

Now, I have never been to Asia, but I understand that winters can be quite cold and summers can be hot and humid so that part is accurate. I also gather that the spring and fall months can have their pleasant moments, just as they do in this part of the world.

In other words, South Korea has its extreme moments weatherwise — but, really, doesn't every place? South Korea may have more of those moments than many places, but, come on. I live in Texas. As Gen. Phil Sheridan reportedly said, "If I owned Texas and hell, I would rent Texas and live in hell." We know all about heat here.

And folks in Canada know all about the cold and snow. I guess there are a couple of thousand miles between Texas and Canada, but we do have our bitterly cold snaps here during the winter, and Canadians have their brutally hot snaps in the summer. No place is immune, but few places go careening from one extreme to the other all year long.

In this particular episode, the folks at M*A*S*H were experiencing a severe heat wave, the kind that keeps you awake at night. Now, I'm the kind of person who can't sleep when I am hot and sweaty, anyway, so I could sympathize with the M*A*S*H folks, who were perspiring a lot in this heat wave — especially Margaret (Loretta Swit), who had developed a bad case of prickly heat on her derriere. She needed a certain kind of lotion to ease her suffering, but there had been so many cases of prickly heat that the camp was out of the lotion.

Everyone was affected by the heat, though, and the whole camp was up in the wee hours of the morning, looking for ways to fill the time. I have had my issues with insomnia from time to time as well, and I know how it feels to be up because it is so hot. As I said, I find it difficult to sleep when I am hot and sweaty, and it wasn't hard for me to project myself into their situation. I sure have been there. Been there, done that, don't want to do it again — but, as I say, I live in Texas. It is inevitable that I will be overwhelmed by the heat at some point.

(I have been so desperate to find a way to fill the time when I have been up with insomnia that once I mopped the floors in the kitchen and bathroom at about 2 or 3 in the morning. I guess I was hoping it would make me tired enough to fall asleep. Didn't work. I worked up a good sweat, but never fell asleep.)

Corporal Klinger (Jamie Farr) was up tinkering with the camp's P.A. system. He aspired to be a TV repairman when he went home, and he was getting in some electronics repair practice. Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) came into the office to fetch a sleeping pill. He was sure it would work because it always put him under, but he didn't want to grow dependent on them, which is why he kept them in his office, not his quarters.

Across the camp Major Charles Emerson Winchester (David Ogden Stiers) was trying to sort through his family's financial affairs. The family accountant had been convicted of fraud, embezzlement and, as Winchester put it, "countless counts concerning accounts for which he cannot ... account." Thus, his family had sent all its financial paperwork to him to sort through. He was in the mess tent, using the tables to spread out all that paperwork. Father Mulcahy (William Christopher) found him there and offered to make some lemonade.

More than the weather had B.J. (Mike Farrell) stewing. He was stressing out over a letter from his wife. Their house's gutters were clogged, and she was going to have to resolve the issue. His imagination was running wild. He had himself believing that these clogged gutters inevitably would drive his wife into the arms of a muscular handyman in their neighborhood.

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A wounded soldier was brought in, and that took precedence over everything else. A helicopter was needed to take the soldier to a hospital after the surgery was done, but only Col. Potter could authorize that so Klinger was dispatched to rouse the colonel and have him order the helicopter. The pill had, as Potter predicted, really put his lights out. When Klinger finally got him to the office, he prodded the colonel to place the order for the morning. The colonel began placing an order as if he were staying in a hotel and ordering room service — asking for poached eggs and prunes.

"Order a helicopter," Klinger whispered.

"No, thanks," the out–of–it colonel replied. "I'm not that hungry."

Well, Klinger got Potter to place the order and took him back to bed.

But that was just the beginning. It seemed everyone in camp suddenly needed Potter for some purpose, and every time he was summoned, he had managed to catch up to the previous interruption of his sleep. I guess it was one of those situations where real–world interruptions simply weave their way into a person's dreams.

Winchester was the first to call upon Potter after Klinger got him back to his quarters. Winchester needed carbon paper for his financial paperwork, and the carbon paper was kept in a safe. Only Potter knew the combination.

In Potter's condition, I always wondered how he managed to provide the right safe combination, but somehow he did, and Winchester got him back to his quarters.

Then Hot Lips, upon learning of the helicopter, decided to order it to bring the lotion that would ease her painful itching. Once again, that was a job for Colonel Potter, whose overburdened mind had to balance the two previous visits to his tent and Hot Lips' account of her need for the lotion.

"Medicine? Who's sick?" Potter inquired.

Hot Lips replied that no one was sick, but she had a severe inflammation on her buttocks. In his condition, Potter began reminiscing about a time when he got what he called "rump rots" during World War I when he was pinned down all night in a wet foxhole. Comparing his experience to Hot Lips, he observed, "That cute little caboose of yours must be red as a beet."

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As it turned out Klinger had just finished putting the P.A. system together again, and the conversation had been broadcast all over camp.

Now everyone knew Hot Lips' little secret — except Potter, who would have no recall of that interruption — or any other interruption — of his pill–induced slumber the next day.

Change of Command Growing Pains

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Hawkeye (Alan Alda): I'd like to talk to you about Corporal Klinger.

Col. Potter (Harry Morgan): And his all–girl orchestra?

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The last that MASH fans had heard, Frank Burns (Larry Linville) was acting commanding officer after the discharge and death of Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson), and every MASH fan knew that Frank fully expected to be made permanent commanding officer. He was already trying to mold the 4077th in his and Hot Lips' (Loretta Swit) somewhat twisted images.

But 40 years ago tonight, Frank was notified by mail that the Army, for whatever reason (and I'm not even sure a reason was given, but it's been awhile since I have seen the episode), had decided not to make Frank the permanent commanding officer. Instead, Col. Sherman Potter (Harry Morgan) had been given the assignment.

Col. Potter was a career Army doctor who had spent the previous two years behind a desk. As such, the surgeons were concerned about two things — that he would submit the camp to a lot of Army discipline to which no one was accustomed and that he had lost his surgical touch in two years of inactivity.

Their first concern seemed to be legit when Potter summoned the camp's officers to his office to get acquainted — and he read aloud to each of them from their personnel files.

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Col. Potter: Major Margaret Houlihan.

Hot Lips (Loretta Swit): Sir!

Col. Potter: Ten years, spotless record.

Hot Lips: Thank you, sir!

Col. Potter: Major Frank Burns.

Hot Lips: Just friends, sir.

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Col. Potter was quite different from Henry Blake. When he met Corporal Klinger (Jamie Farr), he told him to get out of the dress he was wearing and into a uniform — and to stay in uniform. After making the change, Klinger began suffering from a rash that the surgeons determined must be psychosomatic — and they agreed that Klinger should wear women's underwear beneath his uniform. That seemed to solve Klinger's problem — at least until one day when the only thing he had to wear beneath his uniform was a half–slip.

The staff at the 4077th soon came to realize that Potter was not going to be the wild–eyed disciplinarian they had feared — that he would be reasonable, but he did have his standards.

The one who was having the most difficulty, of course, was Frank. He was crushed when he wasn't made permanent commanding officer, and he went AWOL.

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Hot Lips covered for him around Col. Potter, but away from Potter she confided in Hawkeye (Alan Alda) and B.J. (Mike Farrell), who found it hilarious that by–the–book Frank Burns was absent without leave.

After the first intensive surgery session, which, as I recall, wrapped up in the wee hours of the morning, it was clear that Potter had not lost his touch. When he told them that "I could use a belt," Hawkeye and B.J. invited him back to their tent for some of their homemade hooch — and the three began to bond.

As they were in the process of becoming inebriated, Potter told Hawkeye and B.J., "I had a still on Guam in WW2. One night it blew up! That's how I got my Purple Heart."

As it so often did, MASH provided some good life lessons in this episode:

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• Your life's journey will probably expose you to many different kinds of people. It is unfair to judge one against another because everyone is different. The folks at the 4077th were used to Henry Blake as their C.O. Now they had to get used to someone else. They did not always agree with the way he did things, and they missed Henry, but that didn't necessarily make either wrong, just different. The key was giving each the space to do the job the way they were able to do it.
• Your life's journey is also likely to include some disappointments. Have the courage to face them. Now, courage isn't always an easy thing to summon forth, and it doesn't necessarily mean you will prevail, but you will feel better about yourself when you have the courage to face your setbacks.

When It Really Did Feel Like the First Time

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The episode of M*A*S*H that was shown 40 years ago tonight felt like the series' debut, even though the actual opening night was three years earlier.

Two of the charter members of the cast — McLean Stevenson and Wayne Rogers — had left the series, and the hour–long episode that aired 40 years ago tonight introduced Rogers' replacement — Mike Farrell as Dr. B.J. Hunnicutt — to the viewers. Harry Morgan was introduced as Stevenson's replacement, Col. Sherman Potter, a week later.

It wasn't the last time that the core cast would change, either. Before the series ended, Larry Linville (Frank Burns) and Gary Burghoff (Radar) would leave, bringing in David Ogden Stiers to replace Linville as a staff surgeon and elevating Jamie Farr as Burghoff's successor as company clerk. Linville's character was acting commanding officer by the time the '75 season began 40 years ago tonight, but Harry Morgan would soon be brought aboard as Col. Potter, the unit's duly appointed new commanding officer.

For most TV series, so many personnel changes would be too much to survive. But it worked for M*A*S*H — and I think it was kind of a perfect storm. Military units change personnel rather rapidly; ironically, that made Hawkeye (Alan Alda), who was the pivotal character in the program, the anomaly, the one who stayed the whole time, along with Hot Lips (Loretta Swit). So it was natural that people came and went, even those people to whom the audience felt an attachment. That, too, happens in war. It added an extra layer of realism to a series that so often walked a fine line between comedy and drama.

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As the episode opened, Hawkeye was returning to camp after some R&R in Tokyo. He and the audience already knew that Stevenson had left — and been shot down over the Sea of Japan — but neither knew that Trapper John (Rogers) had received his orders to return to the States.

When Radar told him, Hawkeye hitched a ride with Radar to pick up Trapper's replacement. Hawkeye hoped to catch Trapper before his plane left so he could say goodbye, but they got there 10 minutes after Trapper's departure.

They met his replacement (Farrell) and took him to the Officers' Club after discovering that someone had taken their Jeep. Radar was uneasy about going into the Officers' Club, being an enlisted man, but Hawkeye took B.J.'s captain's bars and put them on Radar's cap. If anyone asked, Hawkeye said, they were field testing a new rank — corporal–captain.

I always liked the dialogue on "M*A*S*H," but I particularly liked the dialogue in this episode. For example, upon entering the club, a clearly nervous Radar ordered his trademark grape Nehi. When it was served to him, the bartender asked, "Does the 'captain' want a straw?"

Radar, trying to come across as if he belonged in officers' country, replied, "We don't use straws in combat, fellah!"

Then Radar noticed a colonel who was eyeing him. and he told Hawkeye. "What colonel?" Hawkeye asked. "There's enough brass in here to make a spittoon."

"Over there at eight o'clock," Radar replied. "He keeps staring at me."

"He's probably crazy about you," Hawkeye said.

Anyway, the three needed transportation back to the 4077th. Hawkeye saw a general's Jeep parked outside the club. He plucked the general's flag from the hood, and the three of them climbed in the Jeep and headed for the camp.

Things were going swimmingly for the travelers until they happened upon a Korean family who had sent two daughters into a field to use sticks to see if there were land mines there. If the girls survived, the field was safe for the family's ox — and for the family to plant crops.

They tried to stop the girls from their task, but a mine went off and one of the girls lay motionless on the field. Radar went running into the field in spite of his companions' protests, picked up the wounded girl, instructed the other to take hold of his sleeve, and they ran back to the Jeep.

The Jeep backtracked to a hospital where the three dropped off the girl and some other members of the family, then resumed their trip to the 4077th. That was when they had a flat tire — and, while they were changing it, they came under sniper fire. They got away with the lugs on the tire a bit loose, then stopped down the road to tighten them. B.J. observed that there was a bullet hole in the seat next to him. Radar remarked that the general who owned the Jeep would have a fit.

"Why should he?" Hawkeye asked. "We fixed his flat."

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Shortly thereafter the Jeep came under mortar fire. The three abandoned the Jeep and sought cover, then had to tend to the wounded from a unit of soldiers that had been walking through the area. Once that was finished, they resumed their trip and made it to Rosie's Bar near the camp. They stopped for a drink, then proceeded to the camp, where a now inebriated B.J. checked in with Frank Burns by saluting and saying, as he had been instructed by Hawkeye, "What say you, Ferret Face?"

Frank, who had been fantasizing (along with Hot Lips) about training B.J. to be his kind of Army doctor, realized that he had another Trapper John on his hands.

But not for long. A new commanding officer was on his way to the 4077th.

Not-So-Sweet Dreams

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Of all the thought–provoking episodes the MASH TV series created in its 11 seasons on the prime time schedule, the one that first aired 35 years ago tonight may have been the series' most poignant.

Called "Dreams," the episode explored the dreams of the series' leading characters, and each revealed something about the character — his/her desires, fears, insecurities. Everyone was tired after the marathon sessions the MASH staffers put in. Sometimes they flopped into their cots and were asleep before their heads hit their pillows. Other times they dozed off while sitting in the mess tent or post–op.

Inevitably, there was a peaceful quality to many of the dreams that would be interrupted by the reality of the nightmare they couldn't escape. Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) dreamed of riding his horse through an open field and hearing his mother calling to him. At that point, he was awakened by Klinger with news that he was needed in surgery. Potter lamented the fact that he couldn't have had a little more time so he could taste his mother's cooking again.

That was an indirect intrusion of the war. The intrusion was more direct with the others. It was absorbed into the story line of the dream — the way that dreams do. Or, at least, mine do. I don't know about yours. When my alarm goes off in the morning, it often weaves itself into whatever dream I am having, and for a moment there is a tug–of–war going on between my dream and my reality.

Father Mulcahy (William Christopher) was nodding off while listening to a wounded soldier's confession, and the soldier's words became gibberish. Mulcahy would rouse himself, and the words would begin to make sense again, but then he would drift off again and the gibberish would resume. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed he was the pope blessing the faithful before he was roused from his slumber by the soldier.

I don't recall having many dreams that were as intimate and deeply personal as the dreams of the MASH staffers, but their dreams clearly revealed their most cherished desires and principles — and their greatest fears. Being awakened from the dream was almost a relief for many.

Charles (David Ogden Stiers), for example, dreamed he was a magician, performing magic tricks that astonished the MASH staff. But, when he was faced with a life–and–death matter, none of his tricks could save the patient.

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Hawkeye (Alan Alda) dreamed he was in a medical school class being conducted in the camp's mess tent. He couldn't answer the professor's questions so, each time, he had to surrender one of his limbs. Then he found himself in a boat floating in a river with arms and legs all around him. On the shore, he saw a little girl who was holding an apparent wound. She looked at Hawkeye with the silent plea for help. He looked at her and shrugged.

Hot Lips (Loretta Swit) had perhaps the most bittersweet dream. She was dressed in a white wedding dress that became blood stained from the wounded.

Clearly, her mind had concluded that her problems finding the husband and home she had always wanted were the result of her work in a war zone. Not an entirely injudicious conclusion, either.

His dream took B.J. (Mike Farrell) all the way back to his home in Mill Valley, Calif., where he was dancing with his wife. But he was called away to the O.R. by his sense of duty, and his wife went back to the ballroom on the arm of another man.

Klinger (Jamie Farr), too, went all the way home in his dream — back to his beloved Toledo. He saw all the familiar sights, then looked in a window and saw Potter operating on someone. The person on the table turned and looked in his direction — and Klinger saw that it was himself.

Potter beckoned for Klinger to come in.

It was a powerful episode made plausible by the writers' ability to portray the ways of dreams. I was impressed with their skill when I saw this episode for the first time, and I have been envious of it, as any writer should be, on the occasions when I have seen it again. Given the fact that a 30–minute episode is really about 23 or 24 minutes when one accounts for commercial time, the writers had, on average, less than four minutes to tell the story of each character's dream.

On the Other Hand ...

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"Your hand may be stilled, but your gift cannot be silenced if you refuse to let it be. The gift does not lie in your hands. I have hands, David. Hands that can make a scalpel sing. More than anything in my life I wanted to play, but I do not have the gift. I can play the notes, but I cannot make the music. You have performed Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Chopin. Even if you never do so again, you've already known a joy that I will never know as long as I live. Because the true gift is in your head and in your heart and in your soul. Now you can shut it off forever, or you can find new ways to share your gift with the world — through the baton, the classroom or the pen. As to these works, they're for you because you and the piano will always be as one."

Charles (David Ogden Stiers)

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From time to time, MASH managed to enlighten its viewers. I always appreciated that, just as I appreciated the way that the West Wing did the same thing a couple of decades later.

MASH didn't do that all the time, though — which, I suppose, made those occasions when it did so much more special.

Thirty–five years ago tonight was one such occasion.

As usual, the story started with a bit of misdirection. Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) was tired of the complaints he received from the surgeons about the quality of the recreational activities at the 4077th so he appointed Hawkeye (Alan Alda) and B.J. (Mike Farrell) morale officers — whereupon they discovered how challenging it can be to boost a unit's morale.

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Eventually, they decided on a clambake with fresh seafood. Klinger was drafted to pick up the seafood and bring it back to camp.

Charles (David Ogden Stiers) had no problems with morale. He had just completed some rather tricky surgery on a young man who had suffered a serious wound to his leg and was pleased with the results. By taking grafts from the young man's right hand, he was able to save the leg with minimal loss of dexterity to the hand. He would be able to walk. That was the bottom line, the big picture.

Just one problem, though. The young man (James Stephens) had been a concert pianist in civilian life, and he had planned to resume his career when his military service was over. Walking was unimportant to him compared to having 10 nimble fingers to play the piano.

When music–loving Charles learned the truth, he was determined to motivate the young man to continue his career, and he gave him a composition by Maurice Ravel that had been commissioned by a man named Paul Wittgenstein, whose right arm was amputated in World War I. Wittgenstein, too, was a pianist, and the pieces he commissioned were written for the left hand. Few composers would accept such a challenge, Charles told the young man — although, in fact, several of the most prominent composers of Wittgenstein's day did accept the challenge.

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Charles didn't tell the young man (and the viewing audience) the whole story. Wittgenstein didn't perform every piece he received, but he retained exclusive lifetime performance rights to them; after he was dead or no longer performing publicly, he wanted the pieces to be available for others.

He died nearly eight years after the end of the Korean War so I have long wondered exactly how Charles was able to acquire the sheet music. Perhaps that is part of the Wittgenstein story with which I am not familiar. Perhaps the Ravel piece was available because Wittgenstein had performed it in public — or perhaps Ravel retained certain contractual rights on most — but not all — of the compositions he commissioned.

Personally, I find that hard to believe because Wittgenstein himself wrote to a colleague before the U.S. started sending troops to Korea, "You don't build a house just so that someone else can live in it. I commissioned and paid for the works, the whole idea was mine. ... But those works to which I still have the exclusive performance rights are to remain mine as long as I still perform in public; that's only right and fair. Once I am dead or no longer give concerts, then the works will be available to everyone because I have no wish for them to gather dust in libraries to the detriment of the composer."

That suggests to me that Wittgenstein saw to it that every piece he commissioned was exclusively his as long as he continued to perform. So the writers for MASH were mistaken. In reality, Charles could only tell the young man about the pieces. He wouldn't have been able to share the physical sheet music with him.

But that wouldn't have made the story as effective, would it?

I give the writers for MASH high marks for attempting to enlighten their audience on this night 35 years ago. They took what they probably considered poetic license in their treatment of Wittgenstein and his commissioned compositions. Ravel's name probably carried the most weight at the time, his "Bolero" having been used in the movie "10" a few months earlier.

Poetic license. That isn't how I see it. If the writers knowingly fictionalized their account, they crossed an ethical line. They should have clearly labeled the product they wished to sell.

The Night the Nation Watched

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If, at the end of my life, I am asked to list the five days that I remember the most vividly, I have no doubt that list would include this day in 1983.

It was on that day that the final episode of M*A*S*H, titled "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen," was broadcast. To this day, it remains the most–watched TV broadcast ever.

1983 was quite a year for historic TV events. Super Bowl XVII the previous month, The Thorn Birds miniseries the next month and The Day After TV movie in November are still among the Top 50 TV events of all time. But the M*A*S*H finale is the all–time champ.

Well, the last couple of Super Bowls might have surpassed the M*A*S*H finale. Those numbers aren't available yet. But even if they did, it seems to me that comparing an unscripted championship game to a scripted performance is sort of like comparing apples to oranges.

Frankly, there were many reasons why the M*A*S*H finale drew so many viewers — and why no comparable broadcast is ever likely to duplicate the achievement.

It was a popular series. Well, not at first. It got off to a rocky start in its first season, but it was a fixture in TV's Top 10 through most of its run. It lasted 11 years.

During that time, Alan Alda, who played Hawkeye Pierce, was recognized by the Golden Globes six times and by the Emmy Awards five times.

And any discussion of the quality of the M*A*S*H series and its record–setting finale must include the writing, which was always top notch. There were the regular writers, of course, but members of the cast often contributed to the writing — and the directing.

If you watch all the episodes that were broadcast, the inescapable conclusion is that never was there a more creative crew. M*A*S*H was truly an ensemble effort.

Even though cable did exist at the time of the M*A*S*H finale, it was still in something of a nascent phase. Many people were receiving it, but many more were not.

In my market, as I recall, cable subscribers could get maybe two dozen channels, not the hundreds that are available now. Thus, the potential audience was not as fragmented as it is today.

Because of the sheer number of the alternatives available, I'm inclined to think that nothing that is shown on a single channel today can attract the share of the TV market that the M*A*S*H finale did.

The overall audience for a major news event might exceed it, but many channels will show the same news event. And sports events are, as I say, unscripted. Among programming that is scripted (and, almost always, recorded in advance), the M*A*S*H finale's viewership has never really been challenged — and almost certainly never will be.

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There were several memorable, poignant moments in that program, and many folks will mention the same ones.

But there's one scene that I always enjoy watching whenever the show is being repeated, even though it has rarely been mentioned in my presence. That's a scene in which Col. Potter (Harry Morgan) was taking a break between surgical cases and Max Klinger (Jamie Farr) came up to him to ask for some advice.

Potter told Klinger he only had a minute to spare.

"Do you understand women?" asked Klinger. The running joke about Klinger, of course, was that he had long been trying to get out of Korea by wearing dresses, but now, because he was in love with a South Korean girl who had been separated from her parents and would not leave the country until she found them, he was considering staying in South Korea after the impending end of the conflict.

That was the conundrum with which he had been wrestling. But no one else knew that.

"Oh," Potter replied, apparently relieved. "What I understand about women will take a lot less than a minute."

That, my friends, is great writing. That's just all there is to it. And Harry Morgan, old pro that he was, delivered it perfectly.

Equally fine writing was on display earlier in the program, when Hawkeye was coming to grips with his role in a tragic event. His attempts to repress that memory had landed him in a psychiatric hospital, and the scene in which he had his breakthrough remains one of the most emotionally devastating moments I have ever witnessed on television.

Each of the primary stars — Mike Farrell, Loretta Swit, David Ogden Stiers — had his/her opportunity to shine although perhaps not quite as brightly as the ones I have mentioned.

They were all great, but I think all would agree that they have never been affiliated with a project or a group of people as special as those who brought M*A*S*H into America's living rooms for 11 years.

Do You Smell What I Smell?

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Hawkeye (Alan Alda): Jesus ate with the lepers.

Father Mulcahy (William Christopher): He was an exceptionally good sport.

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On this day in 1978, the M*A*S*H TV series was about halfway through its 11–year run.

It is often said of sitcoms that, when they have been on the air that long, the episodes tend to become stale.

And it is true that M*A*S*H had some misfires that year.

But the episode that aired 35 years ago tonight was pure entertainment from start to finish. I've always thought of it as one of the series' best.

It wasn't like many of the episodes in the latter years of the series — in which a somber angle was inserted into an otherwise upbeat story. It was strictly comedy, all the way through.

As it opened, the surgeons had just completed a particularly grueling session in the operating room. To unwind, Charles (David Ogden Stiers) took to playing his French horn, much to the dismay of Hawkeye and B.J. (Mike Farrell), who decided to abstain from bathing until Charles stopped playing his horn.

Charles refused to back down, of course, and so did Hawkeye and B.J. It was a case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object.

And the rest of the camp was caught in the middle. Charles' French horn playing was, to put it mildly, annoying, and Hawkeye and B.J.'s stench was, well, irritating.

Something had to be done.

The odor became so bad that Hawkeye and B.J. were ordered by everyone else to eat their meals outside the mess hall. When Father Mulcahy strolled by and observed that it was a fine day to be eating outside, Hawkeye and B.J. invited him to sit and share the noontime meal. He refused, prompting them to inquire if it was because of their smell. Mulcahy admitted that it was.

"Jesus ate with the lepers," Hawkeye said.

And, in one of the best lines I have ever heard, Mulcahy replied, "He was an exceptionally good sport."

(An interesting side story involved Col. Potter and a suicidal patient. The patient's girlfriend or wife — I forget which — had been a beauty queen or something like that, and in high school they had been voted cutest couple. Now, disfigured by his injury, the patient could only think that they would be regarded as beauty and the beast.)

Inevitably, I suppose, there was a rebellion. The camp forcibly bathed Hawkeye and B.J. with teams assigned to wash, apply soap and dry the two miscreants.

As for Charles, his French horn was taken from him and placed in the path of an oncoming Jeep that left it flat as a pancake while the camp cheered.

But the cheering died away as Col. Potter strolled onto the scene. He appraised the situation and announced to the hushed crowd, clearly fearing severe punishment, that they were to be confined "to the Officer's Club for the duration of the whiskey. Pierce, Hunnicutt and Winchester are buying!"

Winchester had an issue to discuss. "My French horn ..." he began, looking at the flattened instrument.

"By all means, bring it along," Potter told him. "We'd love to hear it."