Dial File: Amid ‘Seinfeld’ sayonara lurks unloved Urkel

Thursday, May 14, 1998 | 10:32 a.m.

MY PLEDGE TO you: After this sentence, this column will be 100 Percent "Seinfeld"-Free. (As for everything to the right of this column -- you're on your own.)

Not one more utterance of the name of that show, the finale of which I will watch at a great new Chinese restaurant I just discovered, The Masters of our Lo Mein.

Now: Our topic today? A one-time TV demigod who, unlike that Demigod DuJour (check to the right, again) is being wrongly deprived of any prolonged, passionate farewells. Ridiculed, used for laughs, then ignored -- right out of the Nerd Handbook.

His name? Urkel. Steve Urkel.

C'mon, you remember: Hiked-up trousers. Suspenders. Oversized glasses. Nerdy voice. Geeky walk. Dorky talk. On some show -- for nine years -- called "Family Matters"?

Sad, somehow, that while that show I won't mention and, to lesser degrees, "Ellen," "Murphy Brown" and "The Larry Sanders Show" merit massive media mention for closing up shop, "Family Matters" and its breakout character, essayed to cartoonish perfection by Jaleel White, are sinking into the sunset in a sea of so-what?

The '90s linchpin of ABC's Friday night lineup, then cut adrift at the end of last season, the fading "Family" floated over to CBS, which refuses to confirm its funeral -- we'll have to wait for Wednesday, when the Eye Guys release their fall schedule. But industry wisdom is that "Family" will no longer matter. And to prove just how little it "Matters," its two-part finale -- currently for the season, probably for the series -- will air July 10 and 17: a major-league slap in the puss.

Summer snooze. Viewership vacuum. Estimated audience? About 17 people, some family pets and assorted barnyard animals. An inglorious end to a glorious run, at least in terms of longevity -- and, by extension, popularity -- if not quality.

"Family Matters" was no masterpiece (how's that for understatement?). It was, however, superior schlock with three pluses: (1) a family values theme underlying the antics; (2) a black sitcom family -- like "The Cosby Show," "The Jeffersons" and "Good Times" before it -- embraced by white viewers, increasingly rare now as black and white viewers largely separate along racial lines; and (3) The U Man.

As Henry Winkler's Fonzie defined Americal Cool, White's Urkel was America's Nerd. Photo and photo negative. Yin and yang.

Granted, Urkel was a wildly exaggerated stereotype, blissfully unaware of his, well, Urkelness. Unhip adolescents are usually painfully aware of their unhipness. Sitcoms swell with stereotypes -- try to get laughs in 22 minutes, when subtlety and nuance are unaffordable luxuries, and you'll understand why -- but many are tentative, tedious or tasteless, bereft of dimension.

White was playing in a different league: Like Winkler's Fonzie or Jackie Gleason embodying Ralph Kramden as America's blue-collar blowhard, White made Urkel both laughable and lovable, three-dimensional and vulnerable, seizing a stereotype and etching it into the American soul. We laughed at Urkel's inept antics -- but we also rooted for him. Snappy put-downs at his expense were funny -- and vaguely hurtful.

Buffoonishness layered with pathos.

The nerd is a staple of modern American film/TV comedy -- but "Urkel" became a brand name for it. Innately likable and with a broad comic flair that was perfectly matched to the show's vaudevillian vibe, White was fearless about playing the fool -- a rare comedic courage.

White's Urkel was a geek with gusto. He cut through TV's considerable clutter and captured America's heart, even if many of us thought it was, well, nerdy to admit it.

But Urkel, like most nerds who are good for a few laughs, is ultimately discarded while the coolest kid in school -- who shall remain nameless, as per my pledge -- collects the kudos.

THE BEAT OF THE TOM-TOM: Comedy Central's Craig Kilborn will replace veteran gab-meister Tom Snyder, who will quit as host of CBS' "Late Late Show" sometime before September 1999. Some saw Snyder as brash, bombastic, egocentric and pompous -- criticisms not without merit. He was one other thing, too: compulsively watchable.

An engaging, curious, charismatic, intelligent, sometimes belligerent interviewer, ol' Tom leaps out of the small screen and grabs you by the throat. Kilborn, by contrast, lightly nips at your heels. But, as is the natural order of things, Kilborn will take the talk-fest in a younger, hipper direction, as per CBS' fervent wish for its entire network.

Snyder was a pioneer, the guy who, as host of NBC's moody, mesmerizing "Tomorrow" (1973-82), first ventured into post-"Tonight Show" territory and embarrassed pundits who insisted that there was no audience for something other than moldy movies after Johnny Carson bade nighty-night. In February 1982 -- once month after "Tomorrow" finished finding those viewers -- NBC unveiled "Late Night with David Letterman."

For some of the most riveting talk TV ever, stop by L.A.'s Museum of Television & Radio and check out tapes of Tom's "Tomorrow," with its largely pitch-black set -- with eerily illuminated host and guests -- Snyder's curlicues of now-politically-incorrect cigarette smoke, often combative interviews and aura of underground sass. Topics ranged from nudism -- including remote coverage from a California nudist colony -- to discussions with draft dodgers living in Canada.

Wrote TV historians Tim Brooks and Earle Marsh: "Tom Snyder's choreography often seemed to borrow a little from Edward R. Murrow's incisiveness and vintage Alan Burke guest-baiting. Tom could be sweet ... one moment, relentlessly probing the next."

Sadly, Tom's TV tomorrows are few, and it's true that his CBS gabber, like his CNBC show before it, shed that guerilla attack attitude in favor of more tame, traditional talk. But his place in TV history is secure.

He was unique. He was a trailblazer. He will be missed.

THIS & THAT: Andrea Mitchell, NBC's chief foreign affairs correspondent, will discuss "A View from Washington and the World" at UNLV's Artemus W. Ham Concert Hall at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday. It's free, but tickets are required. Call 895-3801. ... UNLV's KUNV 91.5-FM has become an affiliate of National Public Radio. From 5-6 p.m. weekdays, the station is airing NPR jazz programs.

CROON A TUNE: "Scrambled eggs all over my face." What is a boy to do? Well, if the boy is reader Obert Brinley, he picks up the phone before anyone else and tells us that the elegant lyric in question is from the "Frasier" theme, sung by star Kelsey Grammer.

We may seem a bit confused, but Obert, baby, we got you pegged. ... Goodnight, Sir Brinley -- we love you!

Next? What spunky sitcom theme declared: "Not gettin' hassled, not gettin' hustled. Keepin' your head above water; makin' a way when you can"? If it's not too much hassle, hustle over to your phone or computer to call or e-mail us with the correct answer. As always, be the first and find your name dialed into the files of Dial File.

Do it now -- why wait awhile?

FINALE FRENZY: Apparently, folks are all worked up over some special episode of one of NBC's top-rated shows, airing tonight. Let's see. ... It must be ... the season-ender of "ER"!

The plot is a closely-guarded secret, but we've heard that all hell breaks loose at the ER when, during emergency surgery, Anthony Edwards accidentally drops a Junior Mint into a patient -- who turns out to be NBC programming poo-bah Warren Littlefield.

In a related plot development, George Clooney's character trades in his stethoscope for a career as a movie star, but, while mailing out invitations to his big premiere, he dies after licking the cheap glue on the envelopes.

His wake is held at The Masters of our Lo Mein -- but everybody just stands around, waiting for a table.