Video: R.I.P. the Honest Laugh

(2 of 3)

What these shows told you," Murray concluded, "was that being on top of the career heap wasn't as important as being with people you liked, who kept you amused and alive through the long day—and, if you needed them, through a longer night."

"Hot spit, Murray, that was eloquent," Ted said. "Why couldn't you have written like that for me when I was the best darn anchorman in the Twin Cities?"

"Because, Ted, the best darn anchorman in the Twin Cities couldn't have spelled WKRP, much less pronounced it."

Sue Ann shook her flossy head. "You boyscancarpallyouwant," she said. "Give me the real men of Barney Miller. I just love their adorable little Greenwich Village precinct station, where every cop is strong and sympathetic, and every criminal is some species of Jewish Munchkin. And Captain Miller—Hal Linden!" She gave a Wife-of-Bath chortle. "Who wouldn't want to be arrested by him! You know, after WJM gave me my freedom, I actually applied for a job as a policewoman on Barney Miller." Her porcelain face cracked for a moment. "But they said the rough language would have been too upsetting."

"Oh, Sue Ann," Murray drawled, "I'm sure they would have got used to it."

Sue Ann stood behind her old adversary, massaging his neck. "Dear sweet witty Murray," she intoned. "Once the prince of the newsroom, now captain of the Love Boat. Tell me, how do you remove the barnacles from your scalp?"

"I like Mork," Georgette said in her wee airy voice. "I like how it's a children's show that every five-year-old can get a cute little giggle out of, but it's also a show for the most intelligent adult because Robin Williams runs a mile a minute making a pretzel out of his body and his voice and his mind with jokes about old movies and the latest fads, and how Mindy—Pam Dawber—is the kind of wife I'd like to be to Ted." She drew a breath. "And that's why I like Mork."

"But, honey," Ted whined, "you mean you prefer that spaced-out outer spacer to my own new series, Too Close for Comfort, where I get to be outsmarted by my tank-topped daughters and fall over backwards at least three times an episode?" His voice dropped an oratorical octave: "It all started in the five-watt brain of a comedy writer in Fresno, California. . ."

"Shut up, Ted," Lou growled. "You guys are sittin' here bellyachin' that a few TV shows, written and performed by a few good people, are going off the air. Well, what about me? I was canceled too, y'know. And I'm still Lou Grant."

Oh, Mr. Grant," keened Mary. "We all felt so bad about you that we didn't want to say anything. I mean, maybe your show wasn't, strictly speaking, a comedy. And maybe it sometimes bit off issues bigger than it could chew. And maybe it was a little self-righteously liberal. And maybe. . ."

Lou interrupted: "Is there a 'but' coming in here somewhere, Mary?"