Sammy Visits the Bunkers

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I've written before about the episode of All in the Family that first aired 40 years ago today — when Sammy Davis Jr. made his legendary guest appearance — so I won't go into the details of that episode.

Been there, done that, as the TV commercials used to say.

It is one of those classic TV moments that, if you are old enough to remember seeing it the first time, you only need to describe in a few words — and someone else who is old enough to remember it will nod knowingly, smile, perhaps laugh. Nothing more needs to be said.

It's like the episode of The Carol Burnett Show in which the cast parodied "Gone With the Wind."

Or the episode of M*A*S*H in which Henry left the series for good.

Or the episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show in which Chuckles the Clown died.

Or several episodes of I Love Lucy.

It was ironic, too, I suppose, given the fact that Davis was a supporter of Richard Nixon — very publicly so, in fact, which was a cause of some tension between him and other black performers.

Sammy Davis never really fit the mold of prominent black entertainer. He did seem to try, but he just didn't quite make it. I always got the feeling that black Americans viewed him as something of a racial sellout, and he often appeared to be trying to make it up to them.

Maybe he didn't need to, but he may have felt that he did.

He voted for Democrats in his 20s and 30s and was a visible supporter of the civil rights movement, but he reportedly felt snubbed by John F. Kennedy when he was left off the entertainer list at the new president's inaugural party — allegedly because of his recent interracial marriage.

Consequently, he became a supporter of Nixon's during his presidency — but gravitated back to Democrats after Nixon resigned.

His sense of alienation really predated that event. In the late 1950s, as a member of Frank Sinatra's "Rat Pack," Davis objected to Sinatra's calling the group of performers "the Clan" on the grounds that it reminded people of the Ku Klux Klan.

I'm not sure if it did or not — that was before I was born, and I have no memory of hearing Sinatra, Davis, et al., being referred to as anything other than "Rat Pack."

Maybe Davis was overly sensitive. Perhaps the politically correct influences of that time put that particular bug in Davis' ear.

Anyway, when All in the Family became a hit, Davis lobbied for a guest spot on the show. It wasn't hard for him to get it — he and Carroll O'Connor (who played Archie) were friends, and I have heard it was O'Connor who had the idea of having Davis kiss him on the cheek at the end of the show.

Whatever the source, it was an inspired moment of entertainment, a good–natured way for Davis to have a little fun at his own expense. A little more than four years earlier, Davis had kissed Nancy Sinatra on a highly rated TV special. It was one of the first interracial kisses in television history, and it caused quite a stir at the time. Practically no one would so much as bat an eye at it today.

That's what icons do, I guess. They do extraordinary things that few, if any, others have done before, and they render those extraordinary things ordinary by the time they're done.

What Sammy Davis did on All in the Family 40 years ago tonight truly was extraordinary by contemporary standards.

The Candyman

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"So shines a good deed in a weary world."

Willy Wonka

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For some reason, I remember that "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" — which premiered on June 30, 1971 — was the first movie that my younger brother was permitted to see at the theater without my parents.

I don't know why I remember that. I must have overheard a discussion between my parents about whether he should be allowed to see it without them — and the memory of that has embedded itself in my mind.

That wasn't an issue for me. I had been going to movies without my parents' physical presence (but, at that point in my life, always with their blessing) for awhile. In fact, I don't remember the first movie I was allowed to see without them.

(I do remember feeling as if I had taken another step toward being a grown–up, but that is all I remember. And, in hindsight, it wasn't so grown up after all. I mean, I think my parents started allowing me to go to movies without them when I was in first grade — and they might have moved the schedule up a bit for my brother.)

As the oldest of the two children in my family, however, it was my duty, at times, to act as a chaperone for my brother. I don't recall having such a companion when I first went to movies without my parents. Perhaps the arrangement was presented to me as an outing with a friend who might have been a year or so older than I was — and I never realized that my parents had arranged for a surrogate.

Anyway, in the months ahead, I was called upon to accompany my brother to several films that my parents had concluded had the potential to be traumatizing for him (and, therefore, he needed someone reassuring nearby) — but there was really no such possibility with "Willy Wonka."

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Or was there?

The movie was punctuated with catchy music. In fact, the music was the only part of the movie that received an Oscar nomination. Sammy Davis Jr. turned one of the songs from the movie into his signature piece. His version of "The Candy Man" was at the top of the charts in 1972.

There were also a lot of colorful, candyesque images — actual candy, fantasy candy or just bright candy colors. Nothing traumatizing about that.

Yes, "Willy Wonka" seemed harmless enough. And it was, I guess. Oh, sure, there were some scenes that could have been disturbing for my 8–year–old brother. (Those orange–faced Oompa Loompas were bizarre, I'll grant you. Not exactly benign characters the way the Munchkins in "The Wizard of Oz" had been.)

He might even have felt inclined to be upset at times — until he looked at his older brother sitting next to him, and he realized there was nothing to be concerned about. I don't know if that was what happened — but I would like to think it was. It would give my presence some validity, I suppose.

I didn't really need my brother's validation, though. I enjoyed the movie. I never saw the Johnny Depp remake (that wasn't a conscious decision on my part, but I must confess that I had heard talk that he intended to take an entirely different approach to the role of Wonka than Gene Wilder had, which did make me more resistant to the idea of seeing it). Don't know if I ever will.

In a way, I guess, I look upon Wilder's interpretation of the Wonka role the way I do Peter Sellers' interpretation of the Inspector Clouseau role. I can't imagine anyone else doing them.

(My brother has seen Steve Martin in the remakes of the "Pink Panther" movies, by the way, and says they were good.)

Some remakes are good ideas. Sometimes they actually are better than the originals. In my experience, though, most of the time, they are not.

Steve Martin's performance as Inspector Clouseau may be one of those exceptions, and Depp's interpretation of the Wonka role may be, too.

And maybe, one day, I will find that out for myself.

But, even if I do, I suspect that I will still prefer the originals.

The Candy Man Cometh

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Tomorrow is an anniversary of sorts.

I say "of sorts" because, unlike most of the anniversaries of which I write, this is not a milestone anniversary. But it is an anniversary — a 39th anniversary. On Feb. 19, 1972, Sammy Davis Jr. made his memorable appearance on All in the Family.

February always seemed to be a high point for All in the Family. Maybe the writers saved some of their best stories for February, which was (and continues to be) "sweeps month" for the all–important Nielsen ratings. Perhaps they were making their case for high ratings every February and brought out their best stuff.

If that was the strategy, it must have worked. All in the Family dominated the ratings for five consecutive years — a record unmatched by any other scripted series. Nearly three decades after the show went off the air, most of the episodes that are rated the series' best by visitors to TV.com were aired in February.

And #1 on the list, from the series' second season (and its first full season, having been a midseason replacement in 1971), was Sammy Davis' visit to the Bunker household.

Davis apparently lobbied for several months to be included in an episode of the series. He'd been making guest appearances on TV shows for nearly 20 years, going back to the 1960s so TV was nothing new to him. Usually, he played himself crossing paths with the regulars in a series, but occasionally he played fictional characters and gave audiences a chance to see skills he unveiled all too infrequently.

The story was simplicity itself. Davis had been a passenger in the cab Archie was driving to make some extra money and had left a briefcase in the vehicle. Archie arranged with the cab company for Davis to come to his home to pick it up.

There were a lot of inside jokes in that episode that, frankly, were over my head. I was still rather young at the time.

Davis, who had been the subject of controversial public white–black celebrity kissing in recent years, took a little ribbing for that while he had to wait in the Bunker household for his briefcase, then, before he left, posed for a picture with Archie, kissing him on the cheek a split second before the picture was taken.

The laugh that followed was so long that it had to be edited so that Carroll O'Connor could deliver his final line. In syndication, that line is usually dropped.

But you can see it in the attached clip.