Classic TV Archives - Page 4 of 5 - Retro Reminiscing Video and Pictures

Wonderful World Of Disney!

Oh, the magical opening for The Wonderful World of Disney and the wonderful world of color! This was the time when we got our first color TV, and we would sing this whenever a TV show was in color. Growing up, we didn’t have much money on Dad’s salary as a Marine, but we had one of the first color TVs on the market. What a hero he was bringing this big 21-inch console into our home! Between our toys and TV, we were all set.

We always looked forward to Sundays with The Wonderful World Of Disney to wrap up our weekend. Then came that sad little realization: the show was ending, bedtime was coming, and school was waiting for us the next morning.

The Disney anthology show first began on ABC in 1954 as Walt Disney’s Disneyland. It later became Walt Disney Presents, then moved to NBC in 1961 as Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color, which was a perfect title for the era when color TV still felt like magic. By 1969, it became The Wonderful World of Disney, the name so many of us remember. Over the years it moved between ABC, NBC, and CBS, with different titles including The Disney Sunday Movie and The Magical World of Disney. The series has continued in different forms and special presentations for decades, making it one of the longest-running prime-time programs in American television history.

For a lot of us, it wasn’t just a TV show. It was part of the Sunday night routine, that last bit of weekend magic before Monday morning came knocking.

My Mother The Car

My Mother The Car is another show that kept parents explaining what is fake, even though we were seeing it with our own eyes! We had a talking horse with Mister Ed, a witch with Bewitched, a genie with I Dream of Jeannie, a Martian with My Favorite Martian, and then somehow NBC said, “What about your mother… but as a car?”

The show aired on NBC from 1965 to 1966 and only lasted one season with 30 episodes. It starred Jerry Van Dyke as Dave Crabtree, a man who buys an old 1928 Porter automobile and discovers that his late mother has been reincarnated as the car. She talks to him through the radio, because apparently in the 1960s even the afterlife had AM reception.

The voice of the mother was Ann Sothern, which gave the whole thing a little more class than the idea probably deserved. But that was 1960s television for you. If a show had a wild enough gimmick, somebody was willing to put it on the air and see if families would go along with it.

Of course, My Mother The Car became famous, but not exactly in the way anyone at NBC probably hoped. For years it was used as the punchline for bad TV, often showing up whenever people talked about the worst sitcoms ever made. But looking back now, there is something wonderfully ridiculous about it. It was silly, strange, and very 1965. You almost have to admire a show that went all-in on a talking mother-car and expected America to just ride along.

Did you ever watch My Mother The Car, or was this one of those shows you only heard people joke about later?

Jeff’s Collie

After posting about Lassie, many of you asked about Jeff’s Collie, which I was totally unfamiliar with, so please share your memories about this one! I don’t know if it wasn’t shown in our area or if somehow this got by me.

When Lassie first came to television in 1954, the boy was not Timmy. It was Jeff Miller, played by Tommy Rettig. Jeff lived on a farm with his widowed mother, Ellen Miller, played by Jan Clayton, and his grandfather, George “Gramps” Miller, played by George Cleveland. Those early years are often called Jeff’s Collie, especially in reruns and DVD releases.

That version ran from 1954 to 1957, covering the first several seasons of the show. The setup was still the same basic formula we all remember: a boy, a farm, a loyal collie, and some kind of trouble that Lassie had to fix before the episode ended. Jeff would get into scrapes, someone would need help, and Lassie would bark, run, and somehow explain the whole emergency better than most adults could.

The show changed after actor George Cleveland, who played Gramps, died in 1957. His death was written into the series, and the Miller family eventually left the farm. That opened the door for Timmy Martin, played by Jon Provost, to become Lassie’s new boy. From there, the show became the more famous Timmy and Lassie era.

So Jeff’s Collie is basically the “before Timmy” Lassie. Same famous dog, same wholesome adventure style, but with Tommy Rettig as Jeff instead of Jon Provost as Timmy. For people who watched the reruns, it could be confusing because one day Lassie belonged to Jeff, and another day she belonged to Timmy, and as kids we probably just accepted that Lassie had more family changes than most soap operas.

Summary:
Before Timmy became Lassie’s best-known TV companion, there was Jeff Miller in the early years of the series, often remembered as Jeff’s Collie. It was the original boy-and-his-dog era of Lassie, and somehow this one got by me, so I’d love to hear who remembers watching it.

Perry Mason’s theme reminds me of bedtime!

I’d hear that song from upstairs, and I’d sneak halfway down the stairs just to peek at Mom’s show. I remember asking why he was sitting there all alone in that big room, because I didn’t understand what a courtroom was or why everyone looked so serious. Mom still tried to explain it to me, even though I’m sure I was bugging her. All she wanted to do was relax and watch a little TV before her own bedtime.

As a kid, I could not understand why Mom watched such a boring show. There were no monsters, no cartoons, no spaceships, and nobody was falling down a well for Lassie to rescue. Just Raymond Burr sitting there as Perry Mason, calmly figuring out who really did it while everyone else in the courtroom waited for him to prove it.

The show originally ran on CBS from 1957 to 1966, with Raymond Burr as defense attorney Perry Mason, Barbara Hale as his secretary Della Street, William Hopper as private detective Paul Drake, and William Talman as district attorney Hamilton Burger. The famous theme was called “Park Avenue Beat” and was written by Fred Steiner. That opening music had a cool, jazzy, serious sound that basically told every kid in the house, “Fun time is over. The adults have taken over the TV.”

The funny part is, despite the show being around forever and becoming one of the most famous courtroom dramas in television history, I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and watched a single full episode. But I still remember that theme like it was yesterday. That was the sound of Mom’s TV time, the sound of being told to go back upstairs, and the sound of knowing bedtime was coming whether I liked it or not.

Lassie

Just hearing the opening whistle brings back a flood of childhood memories of Lassie.
As a kid, I vowed that one day I would get a collie and name her Lassie. Yeah, that never happened. I also didn’t get a dolphin and name it Flipper. But back then, Lassie made it seem like every problem could be solved with loyalty, courage, and a very smart dog who somehow always knew exactly where to go for help.
By 1959, Lassie was deep into the Timmy Martin years, with Jon Provost playing Timmy, June Lockhart as his mother, Ruth Martin, and Hugh Reilly as his father, Paul Martin. June Lockhart would later become another famous TV mom as Maureen Robinson on Lost in Space, but to me, she would always be Lassie and Timmy’s mom.
No matter how serious the problem was, everything seemed to get wrapped up neatly within the 22 minutes of the show. Someone could be lost, trapped, injured, or in danger, and somehow Lassie would bark, run, lead the adults to the right place, and make everything okay again.
And yes, Timmy actually did fall down a well, even though the old joke makes it sound like it happened every week. It happened in the 1960 episode “The Well,” where Timmy ends up trapped and, of course, Lassie has to get help. That one moment became the running gag everyone remembers: “What’s that, Lassie? Timmy fell down the well?”
Having a rough childhood, I always wished I had Timmy’s family. There was something comforting about that show, even if life was not really like anything we saw on TV. The Martins seemed steady, kind, and safe, and Lassie was always there watching over everyone. For a kid, that kind of world was easy to want.
Well, at least I have my cat Chassie, and yes, calling her reminds me of Lassie.

Holy Clean Hands, Batman!

I remember seeing this commercial as a kid and wondering what Lava Soap even was. I don’t remember if my mom ever actually bought it for us, but if Batman was selling it, I wanted it!

That was the power of 1960s Batmania. Adam West’s Batman was everywhere, including commercials for Lava Soap, the gritty hand soap meant for grease, grime, and dirty hands. It was the kind of soap dads kept near the garage sink, but to a kid watching Batman and Robin pitch it, it suddenly looked like something every crimefighter needed.

Did your family ever have Lava Soap in the house, or were you like me, just wanting it because Batman said so?

Hey Grandpa! What’s For Dinner?

It still wasn’t as bad as when Dad turned on Lawrence Welk, but Hee Haw always felt like the country cousin of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. It had the same quick jokes, blackout skits, silly one-liners, and regular cast bits, just with more overalls, cornfields, banjos, and country music stars dropping by.

The show first aired in 1969, right around the same era when Laugh-In was still the cool, fast-moving comedy show everyone was talking about. Hee Haw took that same rapid-fire style and gave it a country spin, and somehow it stuck around for years. Even if you weren’t a big country music fan, you probably remember the corny jokes, the haystacks, the “salute” segments, and someone in the house laughing at lines that made the rest of us groan. And who can forget Grandpa?

The Pruitts Of Southampton

Oh, I can hear my mother singing along with Phyllis Diller on this one! Thanks to the viewer who requested this last week, it brought back a forgotten memory!

The Pruitts of Southampton was one of those 1960s sitcoms that had a wild setup and an even wilder star. It aired on ABC during the 1966-67 season and starred Phyllis Diller as Phyllis Pruitt, a supposedly rich Southampton widow trying to keep up appearances after the IRS discovers the family is actually broke. Instead of losing everything, she has to keep living like high society while secretly cutting corners and trying to hold the whole mansion together.

The show had a pretty impressive cast around her too, including Gypsy Rose Lee, Richard Deacon, Reginald Gardiner, and even Lisa Loring, who many of us remember as Wednesday from The Addams Family. Later in the season, the show was renamed The Phyllis Diller Show, but it still only lasted one season.

And yes, that catchy theme had a familiar name behind it: Vic Mizzy, the same composer who gave us The Addams Family theme. That probably explains why so many people remember the tune even if they barely remember the show itself. It was loud, silly, a little over-the-top, and totally Phyllis Diller. For a short-lived sitcom, it sure found a way to stick in people’s heads.

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The Moment TV Jumped The Shark

f you’ve ever heard someone say a show “jumped the shark,” this is the clip they’re talking about.

I mean… here’s Fonzie, cool as ever, leather jacket and all… out on water skis… and yeah… literally jumping over a shark on Happy Days.

And somewhere along the way, that moment turned into a phrase we still use today.

So here’s how that even happened.

Back in the late ’90s, a guy named Jon Hein created a website called Jump the Shark. The whole idea was to track the exact moment when a TV show starts to go downhill. Not slowly… not over time… but that one moment where you sit there and go, “Alright… what are we doing here?”

And the moment he pointed to?

This one. Fonzie. The shark. 1977. Episode “Hollywood: Part 3.”

From there, it just stuck. The phrase took off, and now people use it for everything. Not just TV… anything that goes too far trying to stay relevant. A show, a company, even people. When it stops feeling real and starts feeling forced… that’s when you hear it… “they jumped the shark.”

Now here’s the part a lot of people don’t realize… the people involved didn’t think it was some disaster at the time.

Henry Winkler has talked about it in interviews and basically said… look, the show had already done physical comedy, and to him, it was just another fun stunt. He’s even pointed out that ratings didn’t suddenly crash after that episode, so in his mind, it didn’t ruin anything.

Writer Fred Fox Jr. said something similar. They were trying to make those Hollywood episodes bigger… more exciting… something different. At the time, it wasn’t, “we’re out of ideas”… it was, “let’s top what we’ve already done.”

And even creator Garry Marshall defended it. He always said people forget just how big Fonzie was back then. The idea was to give him a larger-than-life moment. Something memorable.

Well… mission accomplished.

Because here we are, decades later, still talking about it.

And that’s the funny part. The phrase “jump the shark” is usually meant as a knock… like something went downhill. But this scene? It’s one of the most remembered moments in TV history.

So yeah… maybe it did jump the shark.

But it also made sure none of us would ever forget it.

Hootey Hoot! Gomer Pyle USMC

There are some TV moments that just stick with you, and if you grew up watching Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., you already know exactly the kind I mean. The kind where you shake your head, chuckle, and say, “Well I’ll be… only Gomer could pull that off.”

This particular episode, first airing on Christmas Eve back in 1965, is a perfect slice of that homespun magic. The Marines are out in the field running war games, all serious business, maps and strategy and Sergeant Carter barking orders like he always does. And right in the middle of it all is Gomer Pyle… good-hearted, wide-eyed, and about as subtle as a screen door in a submarine.

Now Carter, played to perfection by Frank Sutton, figures he’s finally found a use for Gomer’s “talents”—or lack thereof. His plan is simple: send Gomer straight into the enemy camp with false information, knowing full well the poor guy will get captured in about two minutes flat. It’s a setup. A trick. A little military chess move.

But here’s the thing about Gomer, brought to life by Jim Nabors—he doesn’t play by the rules of logic or strategy. He just… exists. And somehow, the world bends around him.

Instead of getting captured, Gomer wanders into the opposing camp with that aw-shucks grin, probably leading with a friendly “Howdy,” and before anyone quite knows what happened, he’s turned the whole situation upside down. Through a mix of innocence, confusion, and pure Gomer luck, he ends up capturing not one—but two entire enemy platoons.

Two!

You can just picture Sergeant Carter’s face—somewhere between disbelief and wanting to yell himself hoarse.

And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos comes one of Gomer’s most memorable trademarks—his famous “Hootey Hoot!” That wasn’t just a goofy catchphrase. In moments like this, it became his signal, his rallying cry, the sound that said, “Well, something unexpected just happened… and somehow it worked out.”

That’s what made Gomer special. He wasn’t clever in the traditional sense. He didn’t outthink anybody. But he had a kind of simple goodness and accidental brilliance that turned every plan on its head. While everyone else was playing war games, Gomer was just being Gomer—and winning without even realizing it.

And by the end of it all, there he is, standing proud with an official commendation, probably as surprised as anyone else. Meanwhile, Sergeant Carter is left trying to figure out how in the world his worst plan turned into the biggest success.

It’s the kind of story that reminds you why folks still love that show. Not because it was flashy or complicated—but because, every once in a while, it let a good-hearted underdog stumble his way into something extraordinary.

Hootey hoot, indeed.