Dial File — Steve Bornfeld: How OK is PC on TV?

Friday, March 3, 2000 | 9:25 a.m.

Steve Bornfeld is the Sun features editor. His television column appears Fridays. Reach him at steveb@vegas.com or 259-4081.

The babe with the bellybutton has gone bluenose on us.

Barbara Eden -- she of the nudie navel back in the mid-'60s when her "I Dream of Jeannie" genie costume made nervous Nellies out of network execs (they obviously couldn't have predicted Shania Twain, Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Lopez) -- is having second thoughts about her classic sitcom 30 years after she blinked her last series blink.

The 65-year-old Eden told a reporter that the '65-70 series glorified a lot of negative behavior -- including smoking and drinking -- and isn't "a good object lesson for us, nor our children" as its reruns unspool into eternity on Nick-at-Nite, TV Land and local stations.

Aw, Babs. To quote the mantra of TV critics everywhere (which keeps us sane in this line of work): It's only television, sweetie.

Still, Eden's edict does raise an interesting issue that could reach all the way back to the wince-worthy stereotypes of "Amos 'n' Andy": In this age of endless reruns of endless old series on endless cable channels in our supposedly enlightened era, how should we view TV that reflected a society we've come to consider outdated -- or worse, offensive?

Or should we view it at all?

Sure we should -- and screw political correctness.

Television is a living, breathing document of more than a half century of our history, filtered through both fictional and nonfictional programming. It's who and what we were, are and will be -- bad habits and all -- and an entertaining and instructive instrument for gauging where we came from and how far we've come. A pop culture compass, if you will.

Should history books be rewritten because contemporary Americans understand the evil of slavery?

And by our ever-evolving (or devolving, depending on your point of view) cultural standards, should we, some 30 years hence, disown recent/current programming for behavior that some may deem unsuitable -- the sexual high jinks of "Friends," the brutality of "The Sopranos," the self-centeredness of "Seinfeld," the drug references of "That '70s Show" -- through the lens of time?

No. Give us our history straight. We can take it.

Compounding any rush to censorship-via-hindsight is the potential for shortchanging TV shows by misunderstanding them. Or at least failing to open them up for new interpretation and, instead, slamming them as Neanderthal. Case in point: Eden's "I Dream of Jeannie."

Here was a show that was savaged by feminists for its "Yes, Master/No, Master" motif that smacked of female subjugation. It wasn't until years later that the simple-on-the-surface "Jeannie" could also be seen as a feminist manifesto: The power of women to do magical things, if only men would let them. Ditto "Bewitched." (That's a pretty good "object lesson for us and our children," Babs.)

The same could be said of such entertaining trifles as horror-coms "The Munsters" and "The Addams Family." Live-action cartoons at first glance, they have since been reinterpreted by TV historians as easily digestible parables for racial tolerance. Message: Accept those who are different.

If all this seems silly -- hey, it's only television, sweetie -- it also makes sense when viewed via hindsight.

And the shiftless, jive-shuckin' minstrels of "Amos 'n' Andy"? While the point is moot -- its hurtful stereotypes haven't been glimpsed on television in 34 years (although episodes are available on videotape) and the networks are cooperating with the NAACP to upgrade black images and participation on TV -- even some black academics call "A&A" useful as a record of how TV treated blacks in its early years. A starting point from which to measure progress.

(They also suggest, sadly, that given such recent abominations as "Homeboys in Outer Space" and "Shasta McNasty," progress hasn't been as progressive as we would like).

But let's throttle back to Babs' concern about smoking and drinking depictions on '60s (and '70s and '80s and early '90s) shows and their potentially regrettable ramifications.

What damage was done to that generation (paging baby boomers) that grew up on those old black-and-white movie classics that were endlessly rerun on independent stations -- and now have their own cable channels? You know the ones -- where stars like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford and Humphrey Bogart and Clark Cable out-puffed small chimneys and out-drank the cast of "Cheers"?

The films' young, impressionable TV viewers grew up to create nonsmoking restaurants and campaign passionately against drunken driving.

Give people some credit -- and leave TV history intact.

Croon a Tune: The Name of the Game is Croon a Tune. Coincidentally, so was last week's Croon a Tune -- as in "The Name of the Game."

The 1968-71 NBC series (8:30-10 p.m. on Fridays) starred the rotating trio of Gene Barry, Tony Franciosa and Robert Stack as, respectively, owner, intrepid reporter and editor in an influential publishing company run by Barry's character. The three appeared in their own separate episodes, but one co-star to thread her way through each installment was a pre-"McMillan and Wife"/pre-"Kate and Allie" Susan Saint James as an editorial assistant.

What was the actual name of the game? Well, the 1966 TV movie that spawned the series was called "Fame is the Name of the Game."

TV tunesmith extraordinaire Dave Grusin penned the snappy theme and the lavish show, budgeted at $400,000 per episode, was the most expensive of its day to produce.

Tip-top Tune Crooners game enough to name "The Name of the Game" were: Jerry Gordon, Linda Noel, Joe Lacy, Robin Skelley, Penelope Wells and Peter Green.

Call 259-4012 to hear this week's Croon-a-Tune theme, which isn't "The Name of the Game," even if Croon a Tune is still the name of the game. Then name that tune, which is the point of the game.

Then stop me before I break into a chorus of "The Name Game" ...

Closing Credits: There are Kathie Lee lovers (probably just a vicious rumor) and Kathie Lee haters. Count yours truly among the latter (maybe "hate" is a tad strong; let's say "intense dislike" with a tendency toward hate when the wind is from the east and my lumbago acts up.)

And color me ecstatic: Ms. Gifford, the Grande Dame of Self-Absorption, announced Tuesday that she will retreat as co-kvetch of "Live with Regis and Kathie Lee" when her contract mercifully expires this summer.

But hey: Best of luck, Kathie Lee -- and please, do be a stranger.