The Way Life Should Be

Greetings from Maine.

Autumn has arrived in this beautiful state, one that boasts, "The Way Life Should Be."

Gentle rain fell as we picnicked in Acadia National Park. It continued in Bar Harbor, that charming coastal town, climax of the coast of Maine. We may return for Christmas.

I bought a book about this coastline by Christopher Camuto at Sherman's. "Time and Tide in Acadia." Awesome.

We ate fresh lobster tonight ($4.99/pound at the grocery). I drank an overrated English beer while fighting the dead red crustacean.

We are staying in Waterville with Halls High graduate Jim Marine and his wife, Judy. Dr. Richard Hornberger, late of Waterville, wrote the novel "MASH" under the nom de plume Richard Hooker, by the by.

It is laid back, peaceful, perfect. You see green, lots of it, spruce-fir forest in Acadia, undeveloped land elsewhere. I could live here, even in winter, calm, quiet, "The Way Life Should Be."

From "M*A*S*H" to trash

Tonight, Jenn flipped on the tube around 9 o'clock.

CBS, the once and proud Tiffany Network, was airing one of the worst excuses for a sitcom I have ever seen, some kind of nonsense called "Two Broke Girls."

The jokes, if you could call them that, were sexual in nature, sophomoric, unfunny, pathetic. I've heard simians speak with better clarity.

The most depressing part of it all was the realization that this lowest-common-denominator filth is going to air in the time slot once held by "M*A*S*H."

Ah, now there was a television series. Serious, hilarious, sobering, healing. I have said it before and I will say it again. "M*A*S*H" made me a better human being. How many shows can you say that about?

I'm not a prude when it comes to this kind of thing. "The Big Bang Theory," network television's best series at the moment, uses sexual humor quite well. "Two Broke Girls" isn't even a bad joke.

I have to be careful when I am tempted to give in to these "the world is going to hell" rants. Television has been full of garbage since its golden years. ("My Mother the Car" anyone?)

But, for the life of me, I'll never figure out how, in just 30 short years, we've gone from "M*A*S*H" to trash.

It was a great Super Bowl and all, but...

Just before the kickoff of last night's big game, a national sports business writer tweeted that last year's game received roughly about a 66 percent share (meaning, 66 percent of all TV sets turned on at that time were tuned to the Super Bowl).

"Record?" he asked, then mentioned that the final episode of "M*A*S*H" garnered a 77 percent share, quickly adding, "different era."

I fired back, "Yeah, that was back when episodic television was good and viewers had taste."

Then, to be fair, I added, "and, granted, just a handful of channels."

I'm not going to go on and on about my affinity for "M*A*S*H." I've told you about that before.

But, it got me to thinking, it really WAS a different era, both good and bad.

Oh, not all episodic television is terrible. I love "The Big Bang Theory." For some reason, we keep DVR-ing "Hawaii Five-O." I think "Friday Night Lights," which wrapped last year, is one of the best dramas ever presented on American television.

And, let's face it, TV has always aired its share of junk. ("My Mother the Car" anyone?)

But, by and large, I miss the smart, sophisticated sitcom. Think about two MTM hits from the '70s -- "Mary Tyler Moore" and "The Bob Newhart Show." (And, of course, the previously mentioned "M*A*S*H," developed by Larry Gelbart from the movie). I've taken to watching those old Newhart shows -- the series in which he plays the psychologist -- to relax at night. I'm tickled to report it is as good as it ever was. Only the fashions and technology, of course, are dated. Good comedy never gets old.

Here's something else that makes me sort of sad. Somebody threw up a poll result last night saying the Super Bowl is the No. 1 fan favorite sports championship game. The World Series is No. 2 -- at something like 13 percent. (The number may be even lower.) As a baseball guy, that breaks my heart.

Here's why I think football is now the real American pastime. First and foremost, I give credit to the NFL for hiring marketing geniuses. Second, I give them credit for avoiding a disaster like the 1994 baseball strike.

But the third reason tells the tale. Our collective attention spans have dwindled to near nothing. Blame it on TV, sound bites, video games, texting, Xboxes, swirling graphics on FOX, Facebook. Whatever. It's there and it's real.

Baseball is a leisurely sport punctuated by moments of rapid-fire action. Football is more ADHD. It meshes better with the times.

Which leads me to one last thing. Yesterday the BBC News released an article anticipating the upcoming 200th anniversary of the birth of author Charles Dickens. It quoted Dickens biographer Claire Tomalin as saying:

"Children are not being educated to have prolonged attention spans and you have to be prepared to read steadily for a Dickens novel and I think that's a pity."

So do I, Claire. So do I.

Dickens' stories are by and large still relevant. Plus, they are so much fun. But you have to work at them. And therein lies the rub.

I do know that my life wouldn't be near as rewarding without having experienced Sydney Carton's sacrifice in "A Tale of Two Cities" or Scrooge's night to remember in "A Christmas Carol." And that's what you do when you read a good book. You experience it. As Hemingway said, it's truer than if it really happened. And, plus, reading isn't passive. Which is good for the mind.

I've been looking for an excuse to read about the best of times and worst of times again. The BBC article gave me a perfect one. When I finish this Hemingway biography, Dickens here I come!

So, yeah, it was a great Super Bowl and all, but...

'Old Soldiers'

Last night was the first chance I've had since I heard about Harry Morgan's death to throw an episode of "M*A*S*H" in the DVD player and say good-bye to one hell of a great character actor.

I chose "Old Soldiers," a favorite from 1980, in which Col. Potter learns that he's the last surviving member of a group of friends and soldiers-in-arms from World War I. Yep, I'm not ashamed to say I teared up a little while the Colonel bid his comrades farewell.

I may have told you before that "M*A*S*H" made me a better person. The show's gentle humanism plucks the heartstrings like a violin virtuoso. When Potter says he wanted his new friends from the 4077th to be with him for the toast -- friends whom he said have come to mean more to him than even his old war buddies -- well, that just about does it, don't it?

My pal Charles Kincade says watching "M*A*S*H" is like spending a few minutes with an old friend. And he's right.

For my money, there will never be another show like it. Not a chance. Can't come close.

Here is a link via veteran "M*A*S*H" writer Ken Levine to Gary Burghoff's thoughts on Harry Morgan's passing.

Godspeed, 'Colonel'

The 4077th has lost one of its most beloved alumni.

Harry Morgan, the actor who will forever be known to me and thousands of other "M*A*S*H" fans as Col. Sherman T. Potter, passed away yesterday. He was 96.

Here is The New York Times obituary.

Morgan had been in a ton of movies and co-starred in at least two TV series (one being the revived late '60s version of "Dragnet") before being signed to play Potter after McLean Stevenson left "M*A*S*H"in 1975. Morgan had played a crazy general on the series the previous season and had left an impression on the cast and crew.

He later called Potter "the best part I ever had," winning an Emmy in 1980.

I'm one of the few people who actually prefer the later episodes of "M*A*S*H." Morgan is a big reason why. As much as I loved Stevenson's Col. Henry Blake, Morgan's Potter was wise, sardonic, amusing, sentimental -- everything you'd want in a CO. He loved his Zane Gray westerns, his horse Sophie and his wife, Mildred.

When he first got to Hollywood, he was known as Henry Morgan, but wisely changed his first name to avoid confusion with the jackass TV personality Henry Morgan. I can remember seeing him in one of my favorite westerns, the chilling mob psychology drama "The Ox-Bow Incident." Later, he had a colorful role in John Wayne's last film, "The Shootist."

I can still picture him as Col. Potter, riding off from the Korean War on Sophie, after sharing one final goodbye with Alan Alda and Mike Farrell. Loretta Swit's Margaret Houlihan called him a "dear, sweet man" and he was.

You'll be missed, "Colonel." Godspeed.

GREAT blog

Don't miss what has become a daily read for me, writer Ken Levine's fantastic blog, which can be found here.

Named one of the best blogs of 2011 by Time magazine, Ken's daily musings will make you laugh just as hard as his scripts did for classic shows like "M*A*S*H," "Cheers" and "Frasier." Usually working with his writing partner David Isaacs, Levine co-wrote some of the best episodes of "M*A*S*H" and the duo later served as executive story editors for television's best (and only) situation tragedy. Yes, they also had a hand in the promising debacle "AfterMASH."

But, they also had a hand in creating that classic episode of "Cheers" called "Breaking Out is Hard to Do," in which Frasier and Lilith's kid finally speaks his first word.

In his spare time, Levine fills in on Seattle Mariners TV coverage as a play-by-play announcer. I think he's got my dream job -- writer of classic sitcoms, creator of an award-winning blog, baseball announcer, possessor of one fantastic wit.

Levine is also the author of a book I just bought for a whopping $2.99 on Amazon's Kindle store called "Where the Hell Am I? Trips that I've Survived."

Don't miss this blog. Ken will make you appreciate even more than you already do the days when sitcoms were intelligent and witty and TV networks actually shelled out a few dollars for good writing.

Where have you gone, Hawkeye Pierce?

I've told you about it before...

How I found "M*A*S*H" because of my dad, watched that last episode with him in February 1983 (its 77 share is still a record), came to love it as a teen and young adult, and grew to adore it for the spirit it represents.

Last night, while fighting the usual three rounds with insomnia, I surfed over to YouTube, and found some memories of "M*A*S*H."

I started here by watching a trip someone took to Malibu Creek State Park, where exteriors for the TV series were filmed, on the 25th anniversary of the series finale in 2008.

Then I found this clip of the cast rehearsing scenes from the final 30-minute episode, "As Time Goes By." It touched the heart to see Loretta Swit's tears.

After that, I uncovered one of the many tributes that aired the week leading up to the big "Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen."

Somewhere I've bookmarked an online archive of the 1981 PBS special "Making M*A*S*H." Google it. It's worth a look.

What I loved about this show was its humanism, its intelligence, the quality of its writing and the talent of its cast. Unlike virtually any entertainment program on TV today, "M*A*S*H" stood for something, commenting on the dehumanization of war and how those who were there coped with it, mainly by acting crazy to keep from going insane.

Alan Alda says in the PBS special that if "M*A*S*H" were developed as a pilot "today" (he was speaking in 1981), it couldn't be sold. That goes triple for 2011.

I prefer the later, more serious episodes, but I love it all, this situation tragedy about doctors in Korea.

If I can quote Harry "Col. Potter" Morgan, "M*A*S*H" made me a better human being -- and there aren't many shows you can say that about.

Thinking on it now, I can't help but ask, "Where have you gone, Hawkeye Pierce?"

M*A*S*H comes alive

TOLEDO, Ohio -- Well, I didn't see Klinger. But I did buy a hat.

One of my favorite spots discovered during the course of 10 years vacationing in Michigan is Maumee Bay Brewing Company here in Jamie Farr's hometown. They have good pizza. They have good beer.

Didn't have to do too much coaxing to get David and Jen to take me down here, an hour from their home in Michigan. They are good friends.

It struck me that "while in Rome" I needed to look up the joint that Farr made famous on "M*A*S*H" -- his beloved Tony Packo's Cafe. Fans of the greatest show in TV history will recall that Klinger often spoke nostalgically of Toledo -- usually before hatching some plan to get out of the army. Inevitably, Packo's would pop up in the conversation.

So David mapped out the city and found that Packo's wasn't too far from the brewery. I tried to contain my child-like grin. I failed.

I kept hoping beyond hope we'd see Jamie Farr. As close as I got to that was a picture in the gift shop of Jamie and "M*A*S*H" co-star Mike Farrell, reuniting at Packo's for some unannounced cause in 2006. It was cool. Also spotted Jamie's autograph on a hot dog bun (they are everywhere, signed by everybody).

I bought a t-shirt modeled in the old M*A*S*H style, Packo's logo on the front and pictures of Klinger on the back. And I bought a sweet lookin' hat that declares Packo's "The Best Buns in Town."

"I can't come to Packo's and not get a chili dog," I say to Dave and Jen. So we walk up to the bar. There, I discover that Packo's sells Schlitz beer! The original '60s formula!

I toasted Jamie Farr, and that gentle and sweet show, and Chuck Kincade and Matthew Shelton and Alan Alda and anybody else I know that loves "M*A*S*H."

The only thing missing was a camera. I always seem to be without one at such moments. Kinda like the time I met Tom Selleck in New York. With no camera.

"You'll be back," David says.

And I grin. Because I know he's right.

Here's to memories of M*A*S*H.

What I learned from a Nehi Grape soda...

Blame this on Radar O'Reilly.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite treats was to enjoy a Grape Nehi. Seems like I would always get them at the beach -- or at least in the summertime. Last one I remember drinking was at a Myrtle Beach campground in 1989 or 1990. Seems like a long time ago.

Most of you know how much I love "M*A*S*H." Such a sweet, gentle show, full of wit and humor, but also peppered with ruminations about what is often called the human condition.

Those familiar with the show know where this is headed. The 4077th's lovable clerk, Walter F. "Radar" O'Reilly, loves Grape Nehi. While Hawkeye and the boys throw back beers in Rosie's Bar, Radar sips on his soda.

Well, it got me to thinkin' I wanted one. But, when I got to looking around, they had all but disappeared from Knoxville. What to do?

So I found a store in Mt. Airy, N.C. (Andy Griffith's hometown) that stocks the stuff. Sent away for an entire case! I can't wait.

Last night, when I got home, waiting for me (complete with a bow!) was a 6-pack of Grape Nehi. Pals Mike and Erin had bought it for me for my birthday. Mike had found it at Mast General Store downtown.

Tired from a long (if great!) day, I put a "M*A*S*H" DVD in the player, propped up my feet, found a bottle top opener, and took a swig.

Ahh, beautiful grape carbonated soda! I had forgotten how much I love ye.

Just got an e-mail saying my case of Grape Nehi is being shipped from Carolina today. I feel like a kid in a candy store.

It put a big grin on my face. And, it took me back to childhood for a few minutes. And, I was reminded once again that I have the best friends in the world.

Thanks, Radar.

Memories of 'M*A*S*H'

It was a big deal to stay up so late.

I don't remember much about Monday, Feb. 28, 1983. I do know I was staying with my dad. He let me miss my usual bedtime.

And, together, we watched the last episode of "M*A*S*H."

I don't remember much about that, either. I do recall Max Klinger (Jamie Farr) getting married. I recall that minute-long kiss between Hawkeye (Alan Alda) and Margaret (Loretta Swit). I recall getting the distinct feeling that all this was historic.

So it was. The final installment of America's finest TV series (titled "Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen") played as a 2 1/2 hour TV movie. Advertising cost more for "M*A*S*H" than for that year's Super Bowl. Tributes aired for days prior to the big night. Such publicity was unprecedented.

When it was all said and done, the last "M*A*S*H" attracted the largest audience ever to watch a TV program (an estimated 125 million viewers). It's a record that still stands.

I didn't appreciate "M*A*S*H" until I grew up. I've told you before that I prefer the later, more serious episodes, to the earlier, comedic ones. At its best, the show portrayed a group of doctors and nurses doing their best to exhibit grace in the midst of tragedy, humanity amid the carnage of war. And, yes, it could also be quite funny.

That final episode wrapped things up better than any TV series save "The Fugitive." The Korean War reached its end. The men and women of the 4077th went home. Hawkeye suffered a nervous breakdown. Winchester lost his love for Mozart. Margaret became her own woman. Klinger got married and stayed in Korea.

I like to watch "M*A*S*H" re-runs late at night when I can't sleep. I have seen all 251 episodes and never tire of my favorites --- particularly any show after Season 5.

"M*A*S*H" brought a dignity to the television sitcom, a sense of purpose, a gentle humanism -- all of which isn't found much on the boob tube anymore. It's too bad.

Since it was raining and I didn't feel like getting out tonight anyway, I watched "Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen." Twenty-six years after I stayed up late with my dad -- and with most of America -- I was pleased to discover it still holds up.

I found myself wishing ol' Hawkeye Pierce was still around. Somewhere, amid reality shows and forensic dramas, surely there is room for something with depth.

Laughing matters

Here's my "inner nerd" thought for the week...

I'm reading a fun little book, "Laughing Matters" by Larry Gelbart. Just in case you don't know the name, Gelbart is a longtime TV, film and radio comedy writer.

If nothing else, he can forever boast that he developed "M*A*S*H" for television, that classic and peerless sitcom/drama, far superior to the amusing but rather base Robert Altman film. He also wrote the screenplay for the George Burns movie "Oh, God!" as well as the hilarious "Tootsie," to name a few.

His trademark is witty wordplay. And Gelbert's book is fully of it. I find myself laughing out loud while reading, the perfect thing to do at 1 a.m., when you can't sleep.

One of these nights I will devote an entire blog to "M*A*S*H," to its brilliance, to the incredible series of circumstances that brought Alan Alda out to Hollywood in 1972 to become Hawkeye Pierce, to my memories of watching the two-and-one-half-hour finale with my dad back in 1983.

I would have liked to have been a radio writer. Words mattered more then and audiences were patient. Jokes didn't have to be told in a nanosecond.

Course, I wanted to a screenwriter, too. Had the story picked out then realized that "Same Time, Next Year", "The Bridges of Madison County" and "Lost in Translation" had already told my tale.

My story was a weird mix of the three, offering some humor amid a dramatic look at what happens when two people find the right relationship at the wrong time. My catch is that it wouldn't turn maudlin or sentimental and wouldn't be given the traditional Hollywood ending. I could still write it as a novel, I guess.

Anyway, these are mere dreams; Gelbart's been to the top of the mountain. "M*A*S*H" was an 11-year example that television doesn't have to be a cultural wasteland.

I keep waiting to see something that substantive come along on TV again. Why do I think I'll continue to wait?

Hawkeye by the fire

So I'm sitting here by the fire -- relaxing from a long day -- watching "M*A*S*H."

I've waxed poetically before about my favorite "dramedy," so I'll not go too far down that primrose path tonight. Quickly, then: this is one of the most well-written, intelligent, heartfelt shows ever presented on American television. Sometime I'll tell you what I remember about watching the famous last episode with my dad when I was a wee lad.

I've slowly but surely made my way through all 11 years (and 251 episodes) of the series thanks to the DVD releases. Finished that up last year.

Dinner conversation the other night made me think about Alan Alda, so I've been watching re-runs in the evenings. It helps me unwind.

Life is good. I was surprised (pleasantly) tonight with a rather thoughtful invitation, one about which I'm quite excited. Thoughtful gestures are the richest kind.

It's cold outside. But I like it. Sitting here as the flames flicker across my darkened living room, I'd like to stay here awhile.

Morning comes early, though, and with it promises another busy day. But "M*A*S*H" by the fire as a Tuesday slips away seems the perfect way to gear up for it.

Dumb it down, baby

Got into an interesting conversation yesterday with a professor from UT about World War I. Won't give too much away since I have a column to write.

But, one thing he said, about another topic, piqued my curiosity. He was talking about good television, and how it doesn't have to be dumbed down for moronic consumption. At its best, he said, television can educate, entertain and inspire.

He's exactly right.

God knows I've wasted a big portion of my life watching mindless sit-coms and hour-long escapist adventures on the tube. As the great savant Willy Wonka once observed, "A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men."

At some point, though, you have to ask yourself what this crap says about us as a society. "Temptation Island," for example, comes to mind, as does virtually anything on MTV.

Compare something like "M*A*S*H," the most popular 30-minute show of its day, with its mid-'90s equivalent -- at least in terms of popularity -- "Seinfeld."


"M*A*S*H" started off as a fairly lowbrow sit-com, "Hogan's Heroes" goes to Korea, have a laugh on me, I can help. And then something wonderful happened.

Alan Alda and producers Gene Reynolds, Burt Metcalf and Larry Gelbart decided to make this show stand for something. You'd laugh, sure, but you also might learn something, could ponder a grand point, gain insight into why humans do the things they do, and even (quick, make sure nobody's looking) shed a tear or two along the way.

And, somewhere amid those 11 years, the stereotypes became three-dimensional characters. Alda tried to show us how to become better human beings. William Tecumseh Sherman would have been proud. It was difficult to come away from a night with the 4077th not believing that war is all hell.

"Seinfeld" was a self-described show about nothing. Occasionally amusing, sometimes brilliant (Kramer finding the set to the "Merv Griffin Show"), "Seinfeld" often morphed into a 22-minute ego trip. Four selfish, impish, incredibly solipsistic characters would roam around Manhattan, all wrapped up in themselves, commenting about the most inane aspects of life.

I can't tell you the delight I took when the much-hyped "Seinfeld" finale came nowhere near the ratings monster that was the final installment of "M*A*S*H."

Times change, I guess. Two generations removed from Vietnam, maybe something like "M*A*S*H" is no longer relevant.

What's that? You forgot about the wars in the Middle East?

Guess you were too busy watching TV...