Dial File: Trying to ‘Bridge’ the passion gap

Thursday, Sept. 24, 1998 | 10:03 a.m.

"Whenever I think of yesterday, I close my eyes and see, that place, just over the Brooklyn Bridge, that will always be home to me."

-- theme from "Brooklyn Bridge."

HEAR my prayer: I want to care. Again.

I mean really care. Really, REALLY care.

It's been too long, I've grown too cynical, and my passion needs -- demands -- a swift kick in the keister.

But somehow, as this season's "Premiere Week" unfolds, it's sadly clear that the fall's most buzzed-about new series -- "(Almost) Sex, (Not Quite) Lies and (Exceedingly Dull) Videotape: The Bill & Bimbo Story" -- won't do it.

(Although you could argue that it deserved the Emmy for best comedy series even more than "Frasier," and its impeachment nail-biter is the best cliffhanger since someone plugged ol' J.R.)

Sure, there have always been those superior shows that startled critics took to their hardened hearts: the surprising successes ("Ally McBeal," "The Practice"), the noble failures ("Nothing Sacred," "Murder One," "EZ Street," "I'll Fly Away"), the triumphs of wit ("Frasier") and storytelling ("Law & Order").

Even this yawner year will probably provide at least a few examples of each: Fresh-faced Keri Russell as "Felicity," Nathan Lane in "Encore! Encore!", Peter Horton in "Brimstone," Dennis Farina as "Buddy Faro" and the post-"Ellen" entry in the gay-go-round, "Will & Grace."

But that keister-kicker is something above and beyond: A show that grabs you by the gut and s-q-u-e-e-z-e-s. As a critic (or professional sourpuss), the last time -- the only time -- a series so shook my soul was in 1991. The series was "Brooklyn Bridge."

I miss that show terribly. More than that: I miss the passion for television -- the depths of which I never even realized until this series graced the air -- that swelled within me.

Producer Gary David Goldberg's glorious gift to viewers -- after "Family Ties," before "Spin City" -- was a soulful, from-the-bottom-of-the-heart meditation on growing up in a loving, multi-generational family in the multi-ethnic Brooklyn of the '50s. From the sweet, achingly nostalgic theme music by Art Garfunkel that perpetually stirred my tear ducts to the old-world wisdom of Grandma Sophie (Marion Ross), this series nestled into the soft underbelly of my heart the way no other series ever had.

Granted, it was easy for Goldberg to enrapture this '50s-born Bronx boy whose grandparents lived upstairs with an autobiographical series about two Brooklyn brothers, their parents, grandparents and extended family. It romanticized an era in which apartment doors were always open, the air smelled of blintzes and rigatoni, third base was the green Chevy with the flat tire and heaven was hanging out on the fire escape on a steamy summer night.

I was a TV critic in New York at the time. Here's what I wrote then:

It was a bona fide tele-miracle. A new show had reached into the depths of my cynical tele-soul and restored my faith in television's ability to communicate, to connect, to actually speak to me in terms so personal it could almost have been a snapshot from a cherished family album. The show -- and long may it last -- is "Brooklyn Bridge."

Television is at its best when it so completely beguiles you that the rest of the world may as well shut down when it's on. And considering how vastly different our experiences are as individuals and how much trouble television goes to in order to homogenize that for mass entertainment, "Brooklyn Bridge" is an exceptional exception.

Whether showing us life as it was or life as we wish it had been (for me, it's a mix of the two), Goldberg has captured the spirit of family love with a warmth rare to television. ... This show is understandable in any home where love, humor and humanity are spoken. If you hold dear the notion of family, it's a cinch to capture your heart. ..."Brooklyn Bridge" is a revelation of just how personal -- and profoundly pleasuarable -- television can be.

When the show was on the ratings ropes later in the '91-'92 season, I organized a local letter-writing campaign, an act of activism that sharply broke with my detached, observer-only tendencies. Again, I wrote:

"My heart is breaking. Just scatter the pieces over the Brooklyn Bridge. CBS, which giveth television's classiest show, "Brooklyn Bridge," has now taketh away. This treasure has been placed on "hiatus," which is a non-commital way of saying sayonara. My soul is in torment.

If you're a fan of "Brooklyn Bridge," please don't stand by helplessly and let one of television's best efforts die an inexcusably premature death. ... Show you care -- and help mend a critic's broken heart.

Readers responded. Weeks later, I received a hand-written note from Goldberg, which read, in part: "We have been wonderfully deluged with mail from your readers. ... Whatever it is that we in our dreamiest moments hoped we were doing is reflected in your response to our show. It's very gratifying."

Alas, with my heart panting on the floor, CBS stomped on it. "Brooklyn Bridge" was canceled.

But it left an imprint on my soul that will never fade. The fact that a mere television show could move me so deeply left me awestruck -- and ever hopeful that someday, fate might loop back on itself and once more leave me stunned and thrilled at how exhilarating a new TV show could be.

And so, this "Premiere Week," I renew that hope, against all odds.

Hear my prayer: I want to care. Again.

CROON A TUNE: It wasn't "I Dream of Jeannie." It wasn't "My Three Sons." It wasn't "Please Don't Eat the Daisies." It wasn't "I Have No Idea!" (Wait. ... That might have been a reader comment, not a show title).

Anyway, what was it, Uncle Bill, Uncle Bill? It was ... "Family Affair." And it was Andrew Hatcher who first fingered the bouncy theme music of the sitcom that gave us Uncle Bill (Brian Keith), Mr. "Now, Children" French, Buffy, Jody and Cissy. (Fast fact: Mr. French's little-used first name was ... Giles.)

Congrats to this family of Dial File readers who also remembered this sweet '60s sitcom: Kimberly Anderson, Joan C. Basil, Holly Gelser, Joe Lacy, Rahim "Good Song" Muhammad, Phil "Nick-at-Nite Must Love You" O'Leary (if that's true, Phil, where's my big, fat paycheck?), John Paine, Mark Ritchie, Robin Skelly and Nili Tag.

And, then there was the always-thinking Andie Sorvig, who knew the theme and added: "How come Sebastian Cabot got billing as Mr. French, but Mrs. Beasley (Buffy's doll) got no billing? That's what I need to know."

Good point, Andie, especially when you consider that Mrs. Beasley often showed more emotion that Mr. French and Uncle Bill combined.

("Uncle Bill, Uncle Bill -- Jody is hanging upside-down from the top of the Empire Stae building!"

"Hmmmmm. ... Well. ...")

For this week's theme, simply dial Dial File at 259-4012 (it will pick up after the fourth ring).

If you don't, I might become so distraught that you'll find me hanging from the top of the Stratosphere. ("Hmmmmm. ... Well. ...")

GENNIFER FLOURS: If President Clinton's ex-paramour is looking for a show biz break, she might want to pester her agent about landing her a guest spot on a new sitcom being shopped around: "The Wacky World of Kitchen Erotica."

It's described by Electronic Media magazine as set in "an erotic pastry shop owned by a former dominatrix and a part-time drag queen."

"Mr. French! We're going to the corner bakery for a cherry tart!"

"Now, children, don't take too long and remember not to bother the nice dominatrix. ... And Jody, remember to wear your red pumps with the fishnet stockings! That's a good boy."