retro television Archives - Retro Reminiscing Video and Pictures

The FBI- And Who The Heck Was Efrem Zimbalist Jr?

If you grew up in the late 1960s, chances are you remember The F.B.I.. It wasn’t flashy—it just felt real, and that’s what made it work. It was more or less my mom’s show; she watched it, and for me, it was the only decent thing on TV.

What made it stand out was Efrem Zimbalist Jr.. He brought a quiet authority to Inspector Lewis Erskine—calm, believable, and never over the top. While other actors leaned into drama, he leaned into restraint, and that made him unforgettable. Now here’s something a lot of people don’t realize. Zimbalist didn’t come from a typical Hollywood background. His father, Efrem Zimbalist Sr., was one of the most respected classical violinists of his time. Born in Russia, he became an international music star and later served as director of the prestigious Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. So while the son became a television icon, the father was already a legend in a completely different world.

The show aired on ABC from 1965 to 1974, starting on Sunday nights before moving around the schedule. Its realism was helped by cooperation with the real FBI, giving it a grounded, procedural feel.

Did The Twilight Zone Dummy Creep You Out Too?

After posting the Nestlé’s “makes the very best… chaaawwwwclit” commercial, a lot of you asked for this one. Go ahead and share your favorite dummy and I’ll try and do some research on it… Politicians are not allowed, though, lol.

Now let me take you back for a second.

There are certain things from back in the day that just stuck with you—and not always in a good way. For me, one of them was that ventriloquist dummy from The Twilight Zone.

I’m talking about the episode “The Dummy.”

When you watched it as a kid, you didn’t overthink it. You just felt it. And something about that dummy—Willie—just wasn’t right. That grin, those eyes… the way he just sat there like he knew something you didn’t.

The episode stars Cliff Robertson as a ventriloquist whose life is starting to fall apart. His act is slipping, his confidence is gone, and he becomes convinced that his dummy is actually alive.

At first, you’re thinking, “okay… this guy’s losing it.”

But then things start happening.

You hear the dummy talking when he shouldn’t be.

You start picking up on his personality… and it’s not a good one.

There’s this edge to him—controlling, almost mocking.

And now you’re hooked.

Because you don’t know what to believe.

That’s what Rod Serling did better than anybody. He didn’t just scare you—he made you question everything you were watching.

And then comes that ending.

No spoilers if someone hasn’t seen it—but let’s just say… the control isn’t where you think it is. And when it hits you, it sticks.

What really got me though? The look of that dummy.

Nothing fancy. No special effects. Just that fixed smile, those eyes that seem to follow you, and that black-and-white lighting that made everything feel just a little more off than it should.

Back then, ventriloquist dummies were everywhere—variety shows, comedians, you name it. Nobody thought twice about them.

Until this.

After that episode? Yeah… different story.

You started looking at those things a little sideways.

And if you really got into it, you probably remember they did it again with another episode called “Caesar and Me.” Same idea… just as unsettling.

But for me, this was the one.

It took something ordinary… and twisted it just enough to mess with your head.

And I’ll tell you this—after seeing it back then…

I never trusted those dummies again.

N-E-S-T-L-E-S… Nestlé’s makes the very best…

I have vague memories of Farfel the dog himself, but that Nestlé’s jingle? That’s burned in there for life.

You know exactly what I’m talking about.

🎵 “N-E-S-T-L-E-S… Nestlé’s makes the very best…” 🎵
…and then that voice comes in to finish it…
“…chaaawwwwclit.”

Come on… you just heard it in your head, didn’t you?

That’s the part that stuck. Not the puppet, not even the commercial itself half the time… just that drawn-out delivery that somehow made it impossible to forget.

Now Farfel, for those who might not remember him as clearly, was this floppy-eared puppet dog created and voiced by Jimmy Nelson. He wasn’t flashy, wasn’t over-the-top… just kind of laid back, almost like he couldn’t be bothered to finish the word properly. And funny enough, that “lazy” delivery wasn’t even planned—it came from a mistake where the puppet’s mouth snapped shut early, and instead of fixing it, they kept it. Best decision they ever made.

And here’s something I was thinking about… back then, puppets didn’t creep us out the way they seem to today. You look at some of the comments online now and kids are like, “That thing is nightmare fuel!” Meanwhile, we were sitting there in the living room, probably on the floor, completely fine with it. No second thought. It was just part of the show.

Different time. Different mindset.

The commercial itself was simple. No crazy effects, no fast cuts, no overproduction. Just a catchy jingle, a memorable voice, and a brand like Nestlé making sure you never forgot their name. And it worked—because here we are, decades later, still singing it like it aired yesterday.

And that’s really the magic of those old commercials. They didn’t need to hit you over the head… they just slipped in, nice and easy, and stayed there.

Now I’ve got to ask… do you remember Farfel more, or is it the jingle that stuck with you like it did with me?

So Easy… It Became a TV Show? The GEICO Cavemen Story

Keeping with the caveman topic, here is one of those ideas that probably sounded better in a boardroom than it played out on TV…

Back in the mid-2000s, GEICO struck gold with their caveman commercials. The whole joke was simple: “So easy, a caveman could do it.” But instead of cavemen being dumb, they were actually smart, modern, and completely fed up with being the punchline. That dry, almost uncomfortable humor is what made those ads stick. You didn’t laugh at them, you kind of laughed at how relatable their annoyance was.

And like a lot of popular ad campaigns, it didn’t take long before someone thought, “Let’s turn this into a show.”

So in 2007, Cavemen hit primetime on ABC. The idea was to expand the joke into a full sitcom—cavemen living in modern society, dealing with jobs, dating, and social issues, all while navigating the stigma of that famous slogan.

The problem was, what worked in quick 30-second bursts didn’t really translate into full episodes. The commercials were funny because they were short, subtle, and a little awkward. Stretch that out to 20+ minutes, and suddenly the joke starts to wear thin.

The show also leaned more into the “social commentary” angle—basically treating the cavemen like a misunderstood group facing prejudice. Interesting idea, but it felt heavier than what people signed up for when they remembered those ads.

End result? The show didn’t last. It was canceled after just one season.

But here’s the funny part—while the TV show faded pretty quickly, the original caveman commercials are still remembered today. They’re one of those rare ads where people instantly know exactly what you’re talking about.

So yeah, a simple insurance slogan turned into a cultural moment… and then into a TV experiment that didn’t quite survive evolution.

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.