of America’s ruling class.

The Beverly Hillbillies was an instant success when it first aired in 1962, and Nielsen continued to rank it among the top twelve programs for the following six years.²² Its ability to appeal to various sectors of the audience contributed to its staying power. Liberals could see the above episode as a jab at the business establishment, while more conservative viewers might have taken it as a confirmation of traditional morality. Furthermore, the program is as much a joyful celebration of America’s material pleasures as it is a satire of them.²³ Like Rip Van Winkle, the Clampetts stumble upon a society that delights as well as repulses them. They enjoy what their wealth can do but always temper their spirited liberality with common sense. Granny’s passions are lusty but never illicit. The younger Clampetts (television’s early attempt to portray flower children) are intent upon using their wealth for the betterment of society and nature. Jethro experiments with modern art (as well as women), and Ellie Mae looks after a menagerie of woodland creatures. Sheared of inhibitions and devoted to art and nature, these ersatz hippies, however, never stray from the hearth nor contradict their stern elders.

This balance of liberality and common sense appealed to a wide audience in the early I 960s, but by the end of the decade, when liberal and conservative as well as generational factions had grown apart, the balance shifted, a fact apparent in public statements made by the program’s actors. For Irene Ryan and Buddy Ebsen, who played Granny and Jed, the program was as much an affirmation of their own conservative politics as it was a satire of American materialism. In interviews conducted in 1968, both announced their support of Ronald Reagan’s candidacy for Governor of California, their contempt for the welfare system, and distaste for protestors. As Ebsen put it, "Hippies are the greatest conformists." Interviewer Edith Efron perceived these real-life political remarks as extensions of the actors’ roles. Granny, like Ryan herself, notes Efron, is a symbol of America’s individualism and strength.²⁴

In short, as the gap between blue-collar worker and student, between Silent Majority and young militants, grew, The Beverly Hillbillies came to represent in the public mind a form of individualism that contrasted sharply with the putative conformism of anti-war and civil rights dissidents. Nielsen and TVQ ratings confirm the shift. As one might expect, rural comedies fared well in the South, but by 1968, the motif had become more popular among blue-collar workers throughout the nation than Southerners. Furthermore, at its debut, the program received remarkably high TVQ’s from all age levels. In 1966, however, the twelve- to seventeen-year-old preference for the program dipped

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seven points below the average situation comedy TVQ of twenty-two. The following year the eighteen- to thirty-four-year~old audience followed suit, and by 1969, the thirty-five- to fifty-year-olds’ TVQ was barely average at sixteen, a far cry from the TVQ of forty-five registered for this age group when the program first aired. Thus, while blue-collar workers remained steadfast viewers, young and middle-aged adults were "tuning out." The popularity of individual performers reveals a similarly evolved audience profile. Although Mr. Ebsen (Jed) enjoyed an above-average rating, his greatest support was among those earning less than 55,000, whereas his lowest rating was from the eighteen- to thirty-four-year-olds. Significantly, other rural comedies (Green Acres; Petticoat Junction; Coiner Pyle, USMC; and Mayberry RFD) exhibited the same paradigmatic retreat of the younger audience.

To be sure, 1968 and 1969 were bad years for the rural comedy and the situation comedy in general. Both Nielsen and TVQ figures indicate that the ratings for all comedies had dipped well below the average for all programs. But it was not, in fact, a bad time for the comedy-variety program. Such highly satirical programs as The Smothers Brothers Show and in particular Rowan and Martin ‘s Laugh-In with its innovative blackout technique had captured large audiences and seemingly filled a growing need for topical, more critical humor. Laugh-In (like The Beverly Hillbillies in its day) was an instant success which in 1969 forced the rural comedy from a tenth-rank position to eighteenth. By the following year, none of the rural comedies registered even in the top twenty-five programs. Although audience response data cannot show us the precise reason for the demise of this and other variant motifs, we can perceive significant patterns in age and income groups which when coupled with programming facts can lead us to a sensible hypothesis. At first loyal viewers were of all ages and generally blue-collar; but by 1968 young and middle-aged adults deserted the motif, leaving only the very young, the old, and the blue-collar worker to ingest the motif’s conservative sentiments. The rural subgenre had evolved, but in a reactionary direction. Those seeking more direct social commentary abandoned the motif, and the motif died.

Variant comedies in the military motif provided viewers with a more clearly antiauthoritarian message, but like the rural comedies, they failed to develop their comedic potential to meet the evolving political consciousness of the audience. Military comedy in a democratic context derives its power from the class conflict between authority and freedom. The army’s authoritarianism is anathema to the notions of political and social freedom inherent in the democratic spirit and to the joyous, bacchic immersion into life found in the comic spirit. That television’s

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military comedies resolved this conflict through the deflation of authoritarian figures and the elevation of scheming subalterns suggests that the motif promotes a thinly veiled attack upon power structures. The memorable 1 950s comedy You ‘11 Never Get Rich, featuring Phil Silvers as Sergeant Bilko, set a pattern for the I 960s military motif. Bilko’s army reverses standard military roles; subordinates (who shrewdly observe the main chance) manipulate incompetent officers (who thrill at the pretense of power). As a premiere confidence man, Bilko circumvents regulations and leads his larcenous tribe of revelers in their pursuit of drink, women, and poker.

The Bilko show is rooted, then, in the comic pleasures of scheming, revelry, and beating the system. Its disdain for domesticity, order, and conventional morality makes it more of a burlesque that samples forbidden fruit than a mannered comedy that conserves family unity. Military comedies of the 1 960s, however, modify this rascality by giving the schemer a cause that transcends personal freedom and giving his tribe a deeper sense of cohesion.

Set in a World War II German POW camp, Hogan ‘s Heroes (1965-1971) depicts the chicanery of a shrewd American colonel as he organizes fellow prisoners to dupe their easily-duped Nazi wardens for the sake of the French Resistance. Two factors, however, give this comedy a decidedly moralistic dimension beyond the Bilko program. To begin with, Hogan (unlike Bilko) has an enemy and, therefore, a personal, moral function. His larceny serves a "Cause" to which his subordinates are as devoted as they are to their revels. Secondly, Hogan’s larcenous tribe of fellow prisoners work as a family unit. Not only are they more cohesive than Bilko’s sad sacks; they represent various races and nationalities and constitute a microcosm of an ideal democracy. Hogan, unlike the tyrannical Bilko, is only a first among equally talented scamps, each of whom has his own felonious expertise and humanity. In working together, the tribe supplants the absurd Nazi tyranny with its own more benign and, of course, libertine democracy. Hogan and his "family" of confidence men scheme in defense of their own unity as well as of democracy. The comedy, then, reassures Americans that a democracy can prevail in an oppressive world and that its resilience depends upon the moral strength and cohesiveness of its members. In the context of the nation’s increasing involvement in the Vietnam War, the program’s nostalgia for an earlier, more justifiable war expressed a covert desire for a return to an age of seemingly fewer complications and a clearer moral vision.²⁶ At the same time, its portrayal of a democratic and domesticated resistance to evil provided viewers with a muted avenue of protest against authoritarian and military structures.

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But as protest against the war reached a head in 1968, Hogan’s Heroes came to be associated more with military heroism than subterranean protest. In discussing his role, Bob Crane remarked that Colonel Hogan is not the typical comedy buffoon but "a leader who can inspire other men to keep fighting." As one observer adds, the character is "the very model of the casually daring young soldier who.., tweaks the nose of danger. Hogan is a pure American." Fighting inept Nazis with wry sarcasm rather than slapstick, the suave, heroic Hogan never wavers from the belief that war is a serious and just enterprise. Ironically, the program’s familial social structure and jingoism are presented in a motif that in previous years had been chaotic and decidedly antimilitary. But even as Mr. Crane was announcing in 1968 that he, too, supported Reagan’s gubernatorial candidacy and that he was "a flag waver," his audience was turning away from his show. Nielsen ratings remained mediocre despite scheduling changes. TVQ’s indicate a pattern of diminishing popularity similar to the decline of the rural motif. Compared to all situation comedies, Hogan ‘s Heroes enjoyed strong support from all age groups except pre-teens. First to leave the loyal ranks in 1968 was again the eighteen to thirty-four bracket. The next year, the number of appreciative middle-age viewers dipped below the average, and the over-fifty group, which until that year had given the program its strongest support, also diminished. By 1971 the program was off the air, and the military motif would not surface again until the advent of the antiwar comedy M*A *S*H.

In distinguishing Variant from Domestic comedies, I noted that both modes adhere to the same formula but differ in the highly specified premises or "situations" of the variant motifs—premises which yield unique plot structures and possess marked potential for social commentary. In rural comedies, beleaguered city folk must endure well-meaning country folk, and in military comedies rule breakers repeatedly outsmart rule makers. The fantasy motif, however, retains more of the domestic flavor of the traditional formula without diminishing the satiric potential of its unique premise. The reason for this mixture of domesticity and satire stems from the fact that the most important fantasies of the l960’s (Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, and The Flying Nun) featured women gifted with supernatural or unusual powers. Although outwardly domestic, these highly imaginative comedies, then, provided early, covert portraits of "liberated" women.

Over the past three decades, television comedies have frequently given us portraits of women yearning to breathe free of their stereotypes. Lucy in I Love Lucy set the standard for the audacious situation comedy female of the 1950s. Talentless but shrewd, Lucy repeatedly tries to

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escape housewifery. In one episode, she and her confidante force their husbands to exchange roles. The boastful men take on household chores but soon become paralyzed at the prospect of making toast. The women labor in a candy factory, but their conveyor belt speeds up with predictably comic consequences. The world turns on its head, and both sexes gleefully return to their proper roles. The episode seems to invalidate Lucy’s desire to participate in the world of work, and yet Lucy’s defeat by the conveyor belt is a willful and illogical contrivance, the very absurdity of which belies that message. Although the formula forces the women to return to their former roles, the dramatization of Lucy’s longing for freedom reveals a distinct, albeit submerged, tension in the portrayal of the situation comedy woman. Not until the production of such 1970s comedies as Maud and The Mary Tyler Moore Show would women be able to realize their potential for growth so carefully repressed in Lucy.²⁸ Fantasy comedies of the 1960s exhibit a small step toward Lucy’s liberation, for here the capacity for growth is covertly expressed in terms of magic.

Bewitched (1964-1972) provides a good example of the fantasy motif’s submerged feminism. Here, an advancing advertising executive marries a witch. Recovering from the initial shock, the husband (Darren), who wants to rise to the top on his own, insists that his wife Samantha refrain from witchcraft. Despite her good intentions, some magic invariably occurs, and each episode’s primary tension revolves around the characters’ mad attempts to undo what the witchery has done and to preserve the secrecy of Samantha’s identity. The fantasy is a peculiar version of the family comedy. Whereas embarrassment generally stems from a character’s unwise attempt to change his identity, embarrassment in Bewitched derives from the sense that propriety will be destroyed if the wife’s true identity is, in fact, revealed. The program, then, maintains a passionate secrecy concerning selfhood; it suggests that it is better to "Hide Thyself" than to "Know Thyself."

The deep truth that must be concealed, however, is not that the lady is a witch, but that she is a capable and imaginative human being. When, for instance, Samantha submits the winning slogan for a diaper company’s new ad campaign, Darren accuses her of resorting to magic. Samantha denies the charge; the "magic" was merely her "imagination." Complications arise when Darren’s boss offers Samantha a job in the agency’s slogan department. Darren petulantly resigns, goes on a bender, and is not relieved of his sorrow until a computer analysis predicts that Samantha’s slogan will fail. The witch returns home, and Darren accepts that she did not use witchcraft. His reasoning is that if the slogan is a failure it must be a product of his wife’s imagination, for if she had used

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magic it would have succeeded. Samantha endures this affront, accepts her husband’s childish egotism, and ignores the computer’s inexplicable rejection. Unlike the men around her, Samantha is always in control, wisely dispensing her magic when needed. As with Lucy, her failure in the business world is due to a machine rather than any personality fault. Interestingly enough, the computer’s decision is less rational than Samantha’s magical powers, and yet Samantha argues that she "doesn’t care" about the unfair resolution; she wants to remain a housewife. Unlike Lucy who is forced back home, Samantha willingly chooses "to scrub the kitchen floor . . . for the man she loves."²⁹ She is a liberated woman in disguise whose submission to male authority is, in fact, an act of will. Although her submission is dictated by the comedy formula, Samantha’s ability to choose this safe restriction of her powers places her a small but important evolutionary step above earlier situation comedy heroines.

Unlike rural and military comedies, the fantasy held on to its popularity throughout the late 1960s. Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie (featuring a curvaceous Genie who tries to snare her "master") achieved better than average ratings, with the former ranking among the top twelve programs for five consecutive years. Both attracted more than the average share of the female audience.³⁰ Both comedies maintained their audience support throughout the problematic 1968 season. When they left the air, it was not for any failure to address a broad spectrum of viewers. The fantasy was able to portray a "liberated" woman in a domestic context, and in doing so it could accommodate both feminism (which was growing in the nation) and domesticity (which was losing ground). Eventually, both fantasy programs were cancelled because they were scheduled in their last year against new, highly successful thrillers. Both, however, continue to appear as daytime reruns with characteristically large female followings.

Although rural, military, and fantasy comedies appeared sporadically and in unique instances throughout the 1950s, their sudden, coordinated growth in the 1960s and their immediate popularity during a highly volatile period in America’s social history suggest that the situation comedy formula could and did adapt itself to the particular needs of an age. Providing an alternative to the traditional domestic pap of the family comedy, these variants evolved to provide both liberal and conservative factions within an increasingly divided society the opportunity to vent steam. Programming and audience response data substantiate the hypothesis that once the rural and military comedies acquired a reactionary association, they lost their broad-based audience appeal. The fantasy, however, concealed its liberal message within a traditional context and

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survived. By 1971, the variant fad had ended and the Domestic Mode had returned. But the shape of domestic had changed considerably. Gone was the traditional family unit; in its stead were ethnic families (The Jeffersons), highly politicized families (All in the Family, Maud), dynamic, single women (The Mary Tyler Moore Show), and "families" of devoted, caring professionals (Barney Miller). Clearly, the situation comedy had come to confront the social realities of the day more openly than it had ever done before. In the long run the basic formula has not varied; only the surface appearance of various comedies has changed. The phenomenon of the variant fad, then, reveals the shape and degree to which a formula evolves by adapting to its social climate.*

Hofstra University

NOTES

   ¹Ronald Primeau, The Rhetoric of Television (New York: Longman, 1979), 175. The textbook’s notion that All in the Family initiated "issue-oriented comedy with social implications" is typical of the widespread assumptions concerning the development of situation comedy that I wish to dispel.
   ²Paul M. Hirsch, "The Role of Television and Popular Culture in Contemporary Society," in Television: The Critical View, 2nd ed., edited by Horace Newcomb (New York: Oxford, 1979), 260.For concurring remarks see Paula S. Fass, "Television as Cultural Document: Premises and Problem," in Television as a Cultural Force, edited by Richard Adler (New York: Praeger, 1976), 56.
   ³George Gerbner and Larry Gross, "Living with Television: the Violent Profile," in Television: The Critical View, 2nd ed., edited by Horace Newcomb (New York: Oxford, 1979), 366.
   ⁴John G. Cawelti, Adventure, Mystery, and Romance: Formula Stories as Art and Popular Culture (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1976), 16.
   ⁵Cawelti, Adventure, 268.
   ⁶Harrison B. Summers, Broadcasting and the Public, 2nd ed., (Belmont, Ca: Wadsworth, 1978), 326.
   ⁷Harrison Broadcasting, 324.
   ⁸Nielsen’s biweekly report (or "Pocket Piece") and the monthly TVQ report are issued exclusively to subscribers but can be examined by appointment at each company’s office.
   ⁹Average situation comedy rating and TVQ’s are taken from the February reports of each season. February is one of the heaviest television-viewing months.
   ¹⁰John Bryant, "Emma, Lucy, and the American Situation Comedy of Manners," Journal of Popular Culture, 13,2 (Fall 1979), 248.
   ¹¹In TV The Most Popular Art (Garden City, NY: Anchor, 1974), Horace Newcomb acknowledges the problems of embarrassment and growth in the situation comedy formula but does not assign a cultural significance to them (pp. 39, 43).
   ¹²John Bryant, "A Checklist of American Situation Comedy," American Humor: An Interdisciplinary Newsletter.
   ¹³Distribution of Domestic Mode programs over the thirty-year period is as follows: regular family (50 titles), man-woman (35), parent-child (21), single man (58), and single woman, (23).
   ¹⁴Distribution of Variant Mode comedies over the thirty-year period is as follows: rural (9), military (13), and fantasy (15). Two other variants not treated in this study are the parody (6) and the ethnic family comedy (5).

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   ¹⁵Leo Bogart, The Age of Television (New York: Ungar, 1972) 50, 362.
   ¹⁶Bogart, Age, 362.
   ¹⁷James Deetz, In Small Things Forgotten: The Archaeology of Early American Life (Garden City, NY: Anchor, 1976), 69.
   ¹⁸Gary A. Stein, The People Look at Television: A Study ofAudience Attitudes (New York: Knopf, 1963), 248.
   ¹⁹Quoted in Eric Barnouw, Tube of Plenty: The Evolution of American Television (New York: Oxford, 1979), 300.
   ²⁰Barnouw, Tube, 306.
   ²¹Quoted in Cleveland Amory, "Review," TV Guide (4 November 1967), 6.
   ²²Tim Brooks and Earle Marsh, The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network TV Shows: 1946–present (New York: Ballantine, 1979), 805-7.
   ²³Judith Crist remarks on the program’s satiric elements in "Review," TV Guide, (27 August 1966), n. p.
   ²⁴Edith Efron, "American Gothic on Television and Off," TV Guide (20 April 1968), 34.
   ²⁵While Nielsen respondents in the South ranked three rural comedies among their top ten favorites, blue collar workers listed four and ranked them higher. Dick Hobson, "who watches What?" TV Guide (27 July 1968), 6-7.
   ²⁶Edith Efron argues this point in "The Great Television Myth," TV Guide (6 May 1967) 8-13.
   ²⁷Edith Efron, "Think John Wayne," TV Guide (3 August 1968), 26.
   ²⁸Carol Traynor Williams, "It’s Not So Much, ‘You’ve Come a Long Way Baby’—as ‘You’re Gonna Make It After All,’ "Journal of Popular Culture, 7: 98 1-9.
   ²⁹Arnold Hano, "Rough, Tough, Delightful," TV Guide (13 May 1967), n. p.
   ³⁰According to Nielsen Audience Composition figures for 1967–68, the ratios of female to male audiences for Bewitched and Jeannie are 1:6 and 1:4, respectively.

*This essay is the culmination of a project initiated during an NEH Summer Seminar on American studies conducted at the University of Pennsylvania by Murray G. Murphey.

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