online community focused on sharing and reminiscing about video, audio, and images that stir our memories of the past – old television, theme songs, commercials, print advertisements, the sights and sounds you remember
Before The Flintstones became a childhood favorite through daytime reruns, it was a genuine prime-time television show. The series premiered on ABC on Friday, September 30, 1960, at 8:30 p.m., when children and adults were expected to watch together.
This lively promo turns the show’s Friday-night time slot into a full Stone Age musical production. Fred, Wilma, Barney, Betty and an assortment of prehistoric entertainers appear as the announcer reminds viewers where they should be on Friday night.
The first three seasons aired Fridays at 8:30. The show’s original opening music was the instrumental “Rise and Shine,” before “Meet the Flintstones” became the familiar theme during the third season.
Did your family watch The Flintstones at night, or do you remember it mostly from afternoon and Saturday-morning reruns?
Architect David Vincent took a wrong turn one night and discovered something terrifying: aliens were already living among us. That discovery launched The Invaders, an eerie ABC science-fiction series starring Roy Thinnes that began in 1967.
The aliens looked human, but a stiff, crooked little finger could sometimes reveal their true identity. They had no pulse, could not bleed and glowed red before disintegrating when killed, destroying any proof Vincent found.
My mom and I used to watch this show together. Seeing it again brings her back to life, even for just a moment, and reminds me how television shows can become tied to some of our most treasured memories.
Produced by Quinn Martin, the man behind The Fugitive, the series followed Vincent as he tried to convince a skeptical world that the invasion was real. With its haunting Dominic Frontiere theme and constant feeling of paranoia, The Invaders became one of the most memorable science-fiction shows of the 1960s.
Did you watch The Invaders, and does an old television show ever bring someone special back to you for a moment?
Long before television doctors relied on dramatic emergencies and high-tech machines, Dr. Marcus Welby was the calm, caring family physician who knew his patients personally and still made house calls. Robert Young played Welby alongside James Brolin as the younger Dr. Steven Kiley, giving viewers two generations of medicine working side by side.
The show’s instrumental theme was composed by Leonard Rosenman and is generally known simply as the Marcus Welby, M.D. theme. Welby was also remembered for making his rounds in a series of light-blue Chrysler sedans, including the beautiful 1969 Chrysler 300 used during the first season.
I remember as a kid getting excited about a new action hero, The Green Hornet. He had the mask, a cool partner, and a very cool car like every other action hero. But for me, the show was boring.
Here’s why.
It looked like it was going to be another fun superhero-type show, especially with the Green Hornet’s mask, Kato, and the Black Beauty. But once the episode started, it felt more like a straight crime drama than an action show. There was a lot of talking, a lot of newspaper office scenes, and not nearly enough of the cool stuff kids were waiting for.
The producers seemed to be trying hard not to make another Batman. While Batman was colorful, campy, and aimed right at kids and families, The Green Hornet tried to play things straighter and appeal more to adults. That may have made it more serious, but for a kid waiting for action, it also made the show feel slower.
Kato, played by Bruce Lee, was probably the most exciting part of the show, but even he was held back most of the time. When he finally got to fight, the show came alive. The problem was, those moments did not happen often enough.
The Black Beauty was another highlight. It had the look, the gadgets, and the mystery. But again, the show often seemed more interested in the crime story than in the hero, the car, or the action.
Maybe that is why The Green Hornet only lasted one season. It had all the ingredients: the mask, the partner, the car, and the theme. But compared to the colorful fun of Batman, The Green Hornet played it much straighter. As a kid, I wanted excitement. What I got felt more like homework with a cool car parked outside.
Nanny and the Professor premiered on ABC on Wednesday, January 21, 1970, and ran until December 27, 1971. It starred Juliet Mills as the mysterious Phoebe Figalilly, better known as Nanny, and Richard Long as widowed Professor Harold Everett.
The show had a gentle Mary Poppins feel, with Nanny always seeming to know a little more than everyone else. Was she magical, psychic, or just very clever? That was part of the fun.
For many kids, it fit perfectly into ABC’s family lineup, especially when it aired on Friday nights near The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family. It was sweet, quiet, and very much of its time.
Did you watch Nanny and the Professor? Did you think Nanny was magical?
Before TV westerns took over the 1950s, The Lone Ranger was already riding across the small screen.
The series premiered on ABC on Thursday, September 15, 1949, making it one of the early major television westerns. It ran until 1957, with 221 episodes over five seasons. Clayton Moore played the Lone Ranger for most of the series, with Jay Silverheels as Tonto. John Hart briefly took over the role of the Lone Ranger during part of the run.
The character had already been famous from radio, but television gave kids the mask, the white horse, the silver bullets, and that famous call: “Hi-Yo, Silver!” The setup was simple and memorable. A Texas Ranger survives an ambush, puts on a mask, and rides with Tonto to fight outlaws and help people in trouble.
Looking back, The Lone Ranger had everything a kid could want in a western: a hero with a secret identity, a loyal horse, a trusted partner, clear-cut villains, and a story where good usually won before the half hour was over. It wasn’t complicated, and that was part of the appeal.
For many viewers, Clayton Moore became the Lone Ranger. He carried the role so strongly that even decades later, people still pictured him when they heard the William Tell Overture or the words, “Who was that masked man?”
Did you watch The Lone Ranger when it first aired, or did you catch it later in reruns? And when you heard “Hi-Yo, Silver, away!” did you want a mask and a horse of your own?
Before Robert Stack showed up in Airplane! as Rex Kramer, he was dead serious as Eliot Ness in The Untouchables.
The show aired on ABC from 1959 to 1963 and gave TV viewers a gritty trip back to Prohibition-era Chicago. Stack played Ness as the calm, tough, incorruptible federal agent leading his team against gangsters, bootleggers, and mob bosses.
It had tommy guns, raids, speakeasies, gangland hits, and that hard-boiled narration from Walter Winchell that made every episode feel like a crime file being opened.
And here’s a fun connection: Leslie Nielsen, who later co-starred with Stack in Airplane!, also guest-starred on The Untouchables in the episode “Three Thousand Suspects.” So before they helped make deadpan comedy history, they were both part of this very serious crime-drama world.
Looking back, The Untouchables helped shape the TV crime drama: sharp suits, mob danger, straight-faced lawmen, and the kind of dramatic seriousness that made Airplane! even funnier years later.
The Jetsons first aired on ABC on Sunday nights at 7:30 p.m., beginning September 23, 1962. The original run was only 24 episodes, but it left a much bigger footprint than its short first season would suggest.
For kids, The Jetsons made the future look amazing. Flying cars, moving sidewalks, video calls, robot maids, push-button meals, and a workday so short George still complained about it. It was basically The Flintstones flipped into outer space, with the Stone Age family replaced by a space-age family.
The show followed George Jetson, his wife Jane, daughter Judy, son Elroy, dog Astro, and of course Rosie the Robot, who somehow became one of the most memorable characters even though she was not in every episode.
What is funny now is how many “future” ideas from The Jetsons don’t seem so crazy anymore. Video calls, flat screens, smart watches, robotic helpers, and push-button convenience all feel a lot closer to real life than they did in 1962.
The original series also has a neat TV trivia note: it was ABC’s first regularly scheduled program broadcast in color, even though many viewers still watched it in black and white.
Looking back, The Jetsons was not just a cartoon. It was the future as the early 1960s imagined it: shiny, funny, automated, and full of gadgets that were supposed to make life easier.
Love, American Style was one of those shows that could only have come from that late ’60s and early ’70s TV era. It aired on ABC from 1969 to 1974 and was built as a romantic-comedy anthology, with different short stories each week about dating, marriage, misunderstandings, and all the funny little disasters that came with love.
The format was the secret. Since every episode had new stories, the show could bring in all kinds of guest stars: older stars people already knew, TV regulars between shows, comedians, singers, and young actors just starting out. It was a perfect landing place for performers whose biggest days may have cooled off, because they didn’t have to carry a whole series. They could pop in for one funny segment, remind viewers they were still around, and get a little prime-time shine again.
It also helped launch or boost newer names. Future stars like Diane Keaton, Sally Struthers, Albert Brooks, and Harrison Ford appeared on the show, and one segment later became the starting point for Happy Days.
That was the charm of Love, American Style. You never knew who would show up. One week it might be a familiar face from older TV or movies, the next week someone who would become famous later. It was light, colorful, a little cheeky for its time, and full of that ABC Friday night energy.
For a lot of actors, it wasn’t just another guest spot. It was a way to stay visible, stay working, and remind America, “Hey, you remember me.”
An hour after posting the intro, I thought it would be fitting to share this old ABC commercial for Combat!.
TV promos back then were simple, but they knew how to sell a show. A few dramatic scenes, serious narration, and suddenly you knew Tuesday night meant war drama, danger, and another mission with Sgt. Saunders and Lt. Hanley.
Combat! aired on ABC from 1962 to 1967 and followed a frontline American infantry squad during World War II. The show starred Vic Morrow and Rick Jason, with stories that often went beyond the usual good guys versus bad guys setup. It showed soldiers tired, scared, angry, loyal, and still trying to hold on to their humanity in the middle of war.
This promo is also a time capsule of how television used to treat war dramas. It was entertainment, yes, but it carried a seriousness that made it feel different. The Greatest Generation was still very much present in American life when this aired, and many viewers did not need the show to explain what sacrifice meant.
Posting this on Memorial Day feels right. Not because a TV show can fully capture what they went through, but because it reminds us how much World War II shaped the families, fathers, uncles, neighbors, and veterans many of us grew up around.
