GaryPeterson67's reviews

JOE 90's penultimately produced episode is a problematic puzzler. I mean, our heroes gang up to gaslight a man who has broken no laws. Ralph Clayton is adept at the art of the deal and sure, some little people get short squeezed out as he plays the stock market with a shark's instinct for blood in the water. Clayton's acumen is no different than that same savvy praised in business legends Warren Buffet and Donald Trump. So why is he the bad guy here?

Old duffer Harry found himself on the wrong side of the Social Darwinist equation and was going the way of the dodo. Such is capitalism. But in this takeover deal Clayton found himself on the wrong side of WIN. Turns out Harry's specialized equipment firm does occasional work for WIN, so Shane Weston won't allow it to fall into Clayton's hands. Legally there's nothing WIN can do since the takeover is within the bounds of the law. So what can they do? Gaslight Gordon Gekko.

Previous critic Lor correctly noted writer Tony Barwick borrowed plot elements from "A Christmas Carol" and MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE as Joe, McClaine, Uncle Sam, and Shane conspire to concoct an elaborate plot to help with good Clayton's revival. Barwick also paid homage to the recent ITC series THE PRISONER with the Okay hand gesture accompanying the catchphrase "see you down there" (a twist on "be seeing you"). Gaslighting an innocent man was also standard operating procedure on THE PRISONER.

That was my nagging problem with this problematic plot. I was being asked to cheer on Number 2 and the Green Dome gang as they waged psychological warfare on a man whose sole crime was being smarter than the average bear in business. Barwick failed to convince me to hate Clayton. I mean, make him a criminal, a money launderer funding terrorists and running drug and prostitution rings who kicks puppies and pinches babies. As it was, he came across as a nice guy with malice toward none, not even towards a random kid parked in his corporate boardroom. I actually pitied Clayton when he's trying to relax with a brandy and an English countryside show and Joe hijacks his TV.

Okay, in spite of my disagreement with the premise, I did really enjoy this show. How could anyone not? I knew it was gonna get eight stars when I saw Joe blowing that horn and playing the blues like a boy Bill Clinton and making with the Maynard G. Krebs Beatspeak. Craaazy. I loved Shane going all Bogart and Sam in a wetsuit slamming a poem about being underwater and underpaid. How he got up to the C-suite in that getup required serious suspension of disbelief. But more importantly, did he have a tuxedo underneath it?

A fun romp with our merry and malicious pranksters that did leave our Scrooge stand-in a new and better man, albeit a poorer one. Did the ends justify the means? We each have to wrestle with and answer that question ourselves... after we stop laughing, that is.

PS: I suspect McClaine's miracle cure inspired not only Ralph Clayton and Ronald Reagan to spill the beans but Tom Baker's DOCTOR WHO five years later. Jelly Baby? Be seeing you down there!

Really, was anyone surprised by Dex and Amanda doing what boys and girls do? Didn't you see this coming after that playful kiss she planted on Dex's lips coupled with a standing invitation to spank her bottom "anytime" just two episodes ago in "Domestic Intrigue"?

What did surprise me was worldly Alexis' uncharacteristic naivete in dispatching Dex and Amanda to a cozy snowbound cabin with apparently no thought given to what might transpire before the fire. I can only imagine she was so singularly focused on getting Amanda out of town and away from Blake that she gave no thought to the possibility. And she may have trusted too much in the prima facie facade that Dex and Amanda erected that they loathed one another.

Another surprise was Dex being the one insisting it was a mistake and must never happen nor be spoken of again. Pouty Amanda looked crestfallen and rejected. Maybe she really was falling for the guy? How else to explain her flattering sketch of Dex earlier in the show?

It is said that men can compartmentalize easier than women (the notion that men's minds are like waffles and women's like spaghetti). That theory appeared proven out by Dex's carefree welcome of Alexis and his gleeful grin at the wedding announcement. What a sharp contrast with Claudia's troubled mind and squirmy resistance to Steven's surprise hug. Of course, Claudia is not only feeling guilty for her fling with Dean but is simmering in her surety that Steven enjoyed a gay romp with Luke in Santa Barbara. Luke only galvanized her suspicions by enthusiastically describing his and Steven's jog along the beach, dip in the pool, and dining on lobster together.

That raises a side note about travel distances in Denver, which is a sprawling metropolis. Luke drives to the Carrington mansion to hand deliver a report that Steven supposedly wanted to see right away, but which Steven showed no interest in as he dropped it upstairs before going out with Claudia. How far did Luke have to drive on that fool's errand? And how far outside of the city is La Mirage? It appears to be nestled in the mountains far from the madding crowds of Denver, even if our peripatetic cast casually pop in for drinks as if it were Kelcy's Bar on the corner. Dean drove all the way out there from his gallery just to see Claudia and was sat down and Dear John'd in under a minute. Another fool on a fool's errand.

My heart went out to Dean because I like Richard Hatch as Apollo on BATTLESTAR: GALACTICA. I thought if he had only played the "you know, my wife Serina was murdered by a Cylon centurion" card Claudia would have melted in his arms.

Hey, far-out fantasy would not be far out of line in an episode that embarks Jeff and Nicole on a quest for a treasure map leading to a lost Incan idol! Wow, talk about a plot twist, huh? Writer Camille Marchetta appears inspired by that year's summer blockbuster INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM. Will we soon be seeing Jeff cracking a whip in a fedora, Nicole in perpetual peril, and Little Blake bringing up the rear as Short Round?

I could see John James stomping into Aaron Spelling's office and sputtering that if Gordon Thompson got to play James Bond then I get to play Indy. Aaron calls Camille and says to make it happen. To make it work, some retroactive continuity implants were necessary, such as De Vilbis having been on a quixotic quest for a priceless Incan idol and his having entrusted Fallon with half of the treasure map. And then there's the out-of-left-field reveal of De Vilbis pairing up with a Swedish model who may have actually been the passenger on Peter's ill-fated final flight. So no family or friends reported this Swedish model as missing? And how is Camille going to explain the ring Jeff gave to Fallon being found at the crash site (as revealed in "The Rescue" earlier this season)?

James Bond and May Day aka Adam and Dominique are given a break after their foreign intrigues and have little to do this time around but attend the press gaggle in Blake's office trumpeting Rashid's signed document exonerating Denver Carrington. Surprisingly, nothing was said about Alexis' role in sabotaging the deal, which criminal act should have been center stage. Pesky reporter Gordon Wales is being positioned to play a larger role in coming seasons. Intrigues in the casting department: Nigel Bullard, the black reporter prominently featured, was apparently a love interest of Diahann Carrol's at the time. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things (as Dex might put it and Diahann might sing it).

And now it appears Adam suspects Dominique is Blake's love interest, or so it seems from the pointed question that Blake blithely dismisses, only fueling his son's suspicions. Blake didn't have to say Dominique is claiming to be his half-sister and thus a Carrington entitled to a piece of the pie. He could have simply and truthfully said Dominique financially rescued Denver-Carrington and thus she is a de facto partner with all the attendant rights and privileges. As an attorney, Adam would understand that (even if not liking it).

Me, I'm not liking Krystle this season. I can barely stand the sight of her on screen. They just had a baby, so celebrate that together. No, she's cold, aloof and still obsessed with blaming Blake for Rashid's death. She's doesn't trust her own husband and a root of bitterness is bearing ugly fruit. I really thought she'd be humble after her tumble, but nope; she's more self-righteously indignant than ever. Well, not too indignant as to neglect putting on that pearl necklace and admiring herself in a hand mirror.

The crisis of baby Kristina turned out to be a tempest in a teapot. Guest star Bibi Besch got only a minute's walk-on before the subplot of Kristina's crisis was hastily concluded. Too many other plots demanded screentime this week, with the highlight being Dex and Amanda enacting their Nonaggression Pact topped off with Alexis' unilateral nuptials announcement. Coming in second was Jeff and Nicole readying to romance the stone, and a distant third was the continuing saga of Steven and Claudia and Luke and Dean. Blake and Krystle's contretemps didn't even make the charts this week.

Closing on a high note, didn't it warm your heart to know 5% of profits from the South China Sea will go to schools in Rashid's (unidentified) native country? I thought it was so cool how Blake said "schooools," and I tried to say it like Blake said it but fell woefully short. Blake sets the bar on awesomeness too high for the average guy.

Ben Casey's premiere episode is a compelling redemption story freely drawn from Dickens' A Christmas Carol. The ever-angry and arrogant Ben Casey plays Scrooge. He's not stingy; in fact, he spends the hospital's funds like a drunken sailor on leave. And he's not heartless, having abundant compassion for patients like Pete Salazar. But he absolutely no patience for dumbfounded doctors or the administrative suits who try to rein in their runaway medical maverick.

The Ghost of Marley that Casey meets and which sets him on redemption's road is a rabies-infected needle poked in his hand during a botched attempt at giving a lumbar puncture to a flailing patient. Suddenly our cocksure superhero is staring death in the face. Casey can't take the vaccines due to a deadly reaction. And if he's contracted rabies, he's sure to die a terrible death as did Dorothy (and her little dog too!). After his colleague and confidante Nobby refuses to amputate Casey's hand in a desperate attempt to isolate the disease, all Casey can do is sweat out the next 30 days and pray no symptoms present themselves.

Memorable scenes I loved include Casey's descending to the dimly lit bowels of the hospital and wandering the concrete-walled labyrinthine tunnel. It brought to my mind the haunting opening lines of Kris Kristofferson's aptly titled song, "Casey's Last Ride":

"Casey joins the hollow sound of silent people walking down /The stairway to the subway in the shadows down below /Following their footsteps through the neon-darkened corridors /Of silent desperation, never speakin' to a soul /The poison air he's breathin' has the dirty smell of dyin' /'Cause it's never seen the sunshine and it's never felt the rain."

As if to underscore those despairing words, which were almost a decade away from being written, a little train comes by loaded with garbage cans and rattles past Casey and down a dark and seemingly endless tunnel. All it needed was a sign saying to "abandon all hope" as here's where Casey learns his patient died of rabies... and he could be next.

A second favorite scene comes straight out of a 1930's prison picture as Casey wakes up in bed staring at the ceiling before turning to the wall calendar and crossing off December 6. Casey is a prisoner both to time and to his own conscience and the guilt and fears that lurk therein.

The implacable facade Casey projects to the world begins to crack. He seeks to make things right, bestowing gifts on those he's wronged. He shows (initially awkward) kindness to the lady doctor he earlier ignored.

Watching this post-Covid one wonders why Casey wasn't quarantined until the danger of rabies infection had passed. Nope, he's in the OR performing delicate brain surgery on a nine-year-old boy and enjoying a passionate kiss with the lady doctor.

Since the series ran for five robust seasons, it shouldn't be a spoiler to say Casey survived his harrowing ordeal and, like Scrooge, emerged a new and better man.

A third scene I loved was Peter waking up Casey by spritzing water in his face and that grin of joy that spread across Casey's face. Like Scrooge awakening after his long, dark night of the soul to find himself alive and well albeit profoundly changed on a fundamental level. The smile is significant because Peter earlier noted that Casey never smiled. Yeah, this Tiny Tim was blessed to be present at good Scrooge's revival.

Wow, what a strong opening show setting the series on an upward trajectory and boasting abundant promise for all the episodes yet to come.

Random observations and cast notes:

The closing scene features Dr Zorba and Pete Salazar watching an offscreen loving embrace between Maggie and Ben. I smiled, imagining Zorba erupting, "Take your hands off my wife, you cad!" On TV Maggie Graham may be in love with Ben Casey but in real life she left the set each night hand in hand with Dr. Zorba! Actress Bettye Ackerman (1924-2006) was married to Sam Jaffe (1891-1984), their 33-year age difference posing no hindrance to a marriage that lasted just shy of 30 years from 1956 through Jaffe's passing in 1984 at age 93. Ironically, for a woman who preferred (much) older men, Vince Edwards was four years her junior (1928-96). One wonders if Jaffe ever felt threatened by his wife playing the love interest to (and locking lips with) the dashing young doctor.

I must admit I am not yet impressed by Maggie Graham as the love interest. Both scenes of her lunging after Casey were embarrassingly overwrought, and she appeared more in pain than in passion. Ackerman has recurring appearances in 62 episodes, so I'm hoping she wins me over as the series progresses.

A recurring cast member already proving himself a strong and steady pillar is Harry Landers as Dr Ted Hoffman. His chiseled and creased face contrasts nicely with Edwards' suave smoothness and lends gravitas to the neuroscience department. Of course, as a STAR TREK fan, Landers will always be first and foremost Dr Coleman, amorous accomplice to the woman who would be Kirk, Janice Lester, in the series finale "Turnabout Intruder."

A weak link was apparently Barton Heyman as Dr Paul Cain, the panic-attack-stricken doctor that Casey reams royally (we're talkin' Roto-Rooter). Heyman made three appearances and was written out after the fourth episode. Even Nurse Wills couldn't veil her contempt for Cain as she snaps blankets when he asks her about the mysterious gift of a microscope. Sadly, Vince Edwards and Barton Heyman died just two months apart in March and May 1996, aged 67 and 59, respectively. Done too soon.

And making his sole series appearance was Aki Aleong as Dr George "Nobby" Namura. He appeared poised to be a series regular but disappointingly disappeared. Aleong outlived all the cast (except for Rafael Lopez/Pete Salazar), dying at age 90 on June 22, 2025.

In the 1960s Ben Casey had his mentor Dr. Zorba, Dr Kildare had Dr Gillespie, Dr. Gannon had Dr. Lochner, and Dr Kiley had Marcus Welby (an AARP-approved plot twist where the aging mentor finally got title billing). I believe this medical master-protege trope can be traced back to Sinclair Lewis' 1925 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Arrowsmith. Young and eager upstart Dr Martin Arrowsmith finds a mentor in the elderly eccentric Dr Max Gottlieb, and together they fight the fossilized doctors and administrators playing priests to outdated medicine and methods, much like Ben Casey does in this opening episode with an able assist from the zesty Zorba. Lewis' century-old story is a must-read for medical drama enthusiasts.

And speaking of milestone dates, the date Casey awakens in the clear of rabies infection is December 7, 1961, the twentieth anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Upending the date's association with "a day that will live in infamy," it becomes the first day of the rest of Casey's life, which on TV spanned another five years, 152 more episodes, and a 1988 reunion movie. The journey through the epic series begins with this first episode....

Ugh. Awful episode. I mean, this wasn't even a MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW episode proper, but like the next one featuring Bill Daily's backdoor pilot, it appeared hijacked by outsiders who hammered their square-pegged agenda through the round hole of the characters we know and love.

Ask yourself, why as of this writing does this particular episode boast the highest rating (8.1) and the highest number of voters (233) for any single episode this season? That high rating is certainly not reflected in the five commentaries posted before mine, which span a single star to eight, with three of them five and below. My suspicion is the higher-than-average viewership and generous grading for this show came from non-MTM viewers who watched this episode solely because of the polarizing hot-button issue it addressed.

"Maude's Dilemma" from November 1972 is often cited as the first "very special episode," even if it didn't have a somber voice intoning those dreaded words before the titles. But does "Some of My Best Friends Are Rhoda" from February of '72 deserve that distinction and dishonor? It has all the VSE trademarks, like keeping the Message foremost; using the characters and plot points merely as the means for delivering that Message, even if requires them to act out of character. And finally, that Message must be hammered home with a ham fist, so nobody misses it. On these points, writer Steven Pritzker succeeded. But it was a Pyrrhic victory.

Rhoda's religion was a red herring. As the series has established, she's secular and non-practicing. But she is a loud, brash, and often overwhelming New Yorker. As an erstwhile Empire Stater myself, I know this personality type and the exaggeration is only slight. Joanne's concerns about Rhoda at the tony tennis club were less about on what day she would worship and more about her being sweats and flip-flops at a black-tie event.

Even setting aside the episode's agenda, this story was just so heavy on the high-school drama of the pouty old friend jealous of the bubbly new one. Yeah, Lou, Murray, and Ted each got a laugh line, and seeing Mary Frann a decade before NEWHART was an unexpected novelty, but there wasn't enough here to elevate this discordant detour from our regular series above a terrible 2 rating.

In assessing this misfire, I initially thought this is what the series would be like if Norman Lear produced it. As an MTM show, it was punching above its weight. But Lear knew how to bring social issues into a plot without allowing the Message to sideline the characters. And if you want to see a million-times better and more impactful show about the topic that dare not speak its name, catch ALL IN THE FAMILY "Archie Gets Branded." That heavyweight episode will reveal by stark contrast what a featherweight (and featherbrained) attempt at social relevancy we suffered through here.

Okay, if Phyllis and Lars are going away for an overnight couples' retreat, I can understand having Bess stay with Mary. But for Mary to slip out for a few hours on a date, did she need to hire a sitter? For a very precocious and responsible 12-year-old eighth grader? No, that was wholly unnecessary, and her infuriatingly indefatigable efforts to secure a sitter had Mary presaging the "helicopter mom" movement plaguing our day.

The fact that an experienced eleven-year-old sitter showed up should have signaled to Mary that Bess was well beyond babysitting.

And where was Rhoda? Yeah, we know she's a slacker (see "... Is a Friend in Need"), and we know she had a cold, but c'mon, she coulda and shoulda stepped up for her best friend. I suspected the producers realized that plot hole and hastily plugged it with her tacked-on out-of-left-field date and sudden recovery.

But let's face it, the whole point of all the protracted prolegomena was to get Lou and Bess together for some gender and generation gap laughs. Someone in the writers' room must have brainstormed, hey, wouldn't it be funny if gruff and grumpy Lou had to babysit a 12-year-old girl?

But it wasn't very funny.

Maybe my appreciation was diminished because I recently enjoyed MY WORLD AND WELCOME TO IT, the 1969-70 sitcom starring Lisa Gerritsen as the daughter of gruff and grumpy William Windom, which made her similar interactions with Lou feel like a reheated retread minus the loving bond between a father and daughter. And speaking of daughters, Lou has two grown ones, so he should have been no stranger to engaging an eighth-grade girl.

Okay, I did laugh at Lou's indulging in Mary's top-shelf "milk" ("a whole cup?") and playing five-card stud with cookies for chips ("I ate my winnings," says Lou). And the "Clancy Clan" swipe at the BRADY BUNCH got a guilty guffaw from this dedicated fan of the Bradys (and of the Partridges, to boot).

Two dangers I'm seeing for the series. One is this distressing shift in recent shows from celebrating the ensemble cast to spotlighting individual players, like Ted ("Ted Over Heels"), Murray ("The Slaughter Affair"), and Lou ("The Six-and-a-Half-Year Itch" and now this one). The second is relying on reality-undermining coincidences, like how this renowned concert pianist not only just happened to hail from Mary's one-horse hick town but had actually proposed to her. C'mon, really? And didn't you wonder why local-boy-made-good Sandy wasn't even mentioned in the Roseburg High reunion show, "Didn't You Used to Be..."?

Again, so many plot contrivances to get the story from Point A to B to C: Get Mary watching Bess, get Mary a date with an old flame so she needs a sitter, get Lou to pinch hit watching the kid. Minus the laughs that spring naturally from talented performers like Asner and Gerritsen, this episode was a letdown and a dip from the high-water mark set by previous shows.

I've been enjoying the 1973-74 Canadian sci-fi series THE STARLOST and admiring actress Gay Rowan as Rachel. So I was stunned and excited to see her again and on of all places MARY HARTMAN, MARY HARTMAN. But when her two-episode run was over and she was finally credited as the "Paralyzed Woman," why was it as... Naomi Ross? C'mon, that is indubitably and incontrovertibly Gay Rowan.

I see here on IMDb that "Naomi Ross" has only two credits, this appearance and a two-part LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE in which she played a nurse. I can only imagine contractual obligations forced Rowan to adopt a pseudonym for these appearances. Rowan appeared under her own name in the 1976 TV movie OUR MAN FLINT: DEAD ON TARGET and in episodes of ONE DAY AT A TIME and ALICE. Maybe she took a page from STARLOST creator Harlan Ellison, who hid behind the pseudonym Cordwainer Bird for that series' credits.

This episode and the preceding one sure were a savage skewering of televangelist Kathryn Kuhlman. They even got the alliterative name right in Dorelda Doremus. But yikes--how awkward was the inconvenient fact that Kuhlman died just four days before this episode aired? I'm sure these shows were taped and in the can on February 20, 1976, the day Kuhlman shuffled the mortal coil, never living to see herself parodied several days later.

I suspect the crossover audience between Kuhlman's "I Believe in Miracles" program and MARY HARTMAN was miniscule and only by accident, so likely no scandal resulting in bruised feelings or lawsuits ever erupted.

Kuhlman lives on in Pentecostal and Charismatic Christian circles, hailed as one of "God's Generals" and admired uncritically along with her predecessor Aimee Semple McPherson as an anointed woman blazing a trail into the old boys' network. Oh, speaking of blazing, McPherson herself was skewered in Sinclair Lewis' 1927 novel and the 1960 film adaptation ELMER GANTRY in the character of evangelist Sharon Falconer, played by Jean Simmons.

Doris Roberts, one of Hollywood's busiest character actresses, was over the top as the erstwhile Irma Perlmutter of Brooklyn, ably assisted by Woodrow Parfrey, a familiar hangdog face to television fans. And bringing the glamor was Gay Rowan as the shill in the audience. In 1986, a decade after this episode aired, magician James "The Amazing" Randi exposed televangelist Peter Popoff for engaging in such un-Christlike chicanery. But Tom and Mary, even if stoned out of their minds, deserve a little credit for presaging Randi in pulling the wig off a wolf in sheep's clothing for pulling the wool over the undiscerning eyes of goodhearted but gullible dupes like Charlie and Loretta who confuse the work of the Lord with the deception of devils.

A funny show with our WJM friends, but what was with Mary, Lou, and Ted all acting a little out of character? I mean, Mary's a sweetheart, but this one crossed over into parody. Leaving an undeserved tip under the plate was one thing, hiring Randy over Doreen was another, and then Mary slid headlong down the slippery slope to guilt-ridden doormat with her rewriting the letter over her lunchbreak coupled with offering to come in early and stay late to help Randy. It grew increasingly vexing, and her moment's hesitation when Lou wanted to fire Randy had me yelling at the screen. By the time of the reveal in the phone call tag scene I was just shaking my head in resigned exasperation.

And what was with Ted? In "Ted Over Heels" a couple shows ago he's awkward and unsure of himself with women and leans on Mary for confidence. Here he's a smooth player, commanding Mary to stand down as he escorts Randy off to lunch and what--? Did you catch how tousled her hair was upon returning? A lunchtime tumble with Ted? That is not our Ted.

Lou hates spunk but loves a cute caboose? Hey, Lou can be gruff, but he's not coarse, and certainly would never be so shamelessly blatant to Mary about his leering. Lou is usually portrayed as a benevolent micromanager, glaring and hovering when Mary has guests or personal phone calls, so I couldn't believe he would delegate to Mary the hiring of a secretary, especially one he'd be so dependent upon. And why would "Mr. Graham" want to give a raise to someone who couldn't bother to get his name right? Lou enjoying firing people? Now that's our Lou, and I welcomed his return at the bottom of the ninth.

So what happened? This was the first of four episodes written by Dick Clair, and it's obvious he didn't have a firm grasp on the characters. Sure, some exaggeration of character was played for laughs, but these were all defined and nuanced characters by this point in the series and Clair's characterizations often rang false and even unsettling.

Closing observations: Credit Randy for being a go-getter. As a single mother with a three-year-old daughter she could just as easily slept in late and watched soaps while awaiting her welfare check. I just hoped she was more invested in being a parent than she was an employee. Randy's application noting she's divorced stirred up a memory of Mary's interview in the opening episode: "I don't think you're allowed to ask that."

The restaurant was a slightly redressed set of the bar the strikers gathered in back in "Thoroughly Unmilitant Mary." And while Randy was a terrible waitress, the restaurant must bear some blame for being woefully undersupplied on goulash and swiss steak (lotsa liverwurst, however).

And lots of laughs amid the frustrations, so by no means a "feeb" episode. Alas, those will come in later seasons....

Wait, what? Who's this pretender Peter Turgeon? Who slipped us a bench-warming sub just as the story was building to a crescendo? Woodard and Burke were proving a winning team, and Gerringer so inhabited the character of Dr. Woodard it was mind boggling to think the producers canned him. Well, they did NOT can him. Turns out Bob Gerringer made a grandstand play, choosing to side with striking technicians rather than honor his commitment to the show, to his castmates, and to the fans. "He chose... poorly," to aptly quote a movie released the year Gerringer died.

Peter Turgeon stepped into an unenviable position and I gotta admit he did an admirable job, even if he's no Gerringer. I appreciated his attempts at aping Gerringer's vocal inflections (though nobody will say "Joolee-UH" quite like Bob did). And I'm sure Joan Bennett appreciated Turgeon's rescuing her from her flubbed line, missaying "situation" instead of "solution," which he seamlessly corrected.

Seeing Turgeon assume the mantle brought to mind earlier cast switcheroos, most notably Burke Devlin. I thought I'd never adjust to Anthony George in the part, and while Mitchell Ryan will always be the definitive Burke, George has settled into the role and made it his own. Who remembers the original Sam Evans and Willie Loomis? Or the original Dr. Woodard, Richard Woods?

The prime-time soaps faced the same struggles. I remember DYNASTY recasting both of the original Carrington kids, Steven and Fallon, and DALLAS bringing aboard Donna Reed to play Ewing family matriarch Miss Ellie for a single season before the original actress wanted back in.

I will miss Gerringer but will miss him less knowing the shortsighted reason for his quitting. Did he continue to watch the show and regret not completing the suspenseful story arc? Or was it just a job to him? Time has proven that any victory he felt he won over ABC was pyrrhic at best.

As for this episode 335, it coulda, woulda, shoulda been an 8-star episode but was dragged down by the recasting and--talk about choosing poorly--the dumb decision to include the anticlimactic and momentum-breaking discussion of Caleb Collins' will. Yawn. Still a strong episode boasting Turgeon's first appearance and the sole appearance by William Shust as the psychiatrist Dr. Fisher. I laughed at the parody of psychoanalysis, as Fisher, spouting impenetrable psychobabble, revealed just how wildly afield his interpretation of David's dream was. The woman with the medallion must be his mother, right? Uh, nope.

Fisher did drop the detail about fangs that gave Woodard his epiphany (a late-show Dracula movie should have done that months ago!). But what in that remark sparked Woodard to race back to the mausoleum and to leave Burke behind? I would sure want a friend along if I were confident my worst suspicions were about to be proven correct. And what a shock ending as Sarah appears to Woodard! Tune in Monday to hear Sarah say, "Where's my frikkin' flute, ya light-fingered Sawbones?"

Leslie Nielsen's annual appearances on the series have proven a highlight, so I was disappointed to discover this was his third and last hurrah, but I was not disappointed in the story or in Nielsen's heartrending performance.

Now that said, I agree wholeheartedly with previous reviewers that the story was shockingly soft on Joe and that the free pass he received minimized Joe's partner's needless death as well as the anger and grieving of the widow and son. "Don't hate him," Stone tells Corky mere hours after his father's death, "It's a disease. A disease called loneliness." Wow, Mike, so Joe Landers is the real suffering victim here? Because his wife walked out on him five years earlier?

I have to add I rolled my eyes when Mike has at the forefront of his memory these personal details about colleagues, especially uniformed officers. "Five years ago? Wasn't that when Betty walked out on him?" C'mon, who would know that? Mike Stone isn't the guy you'd go to for a sympathetic shoulder upon which to pour out your personal problems.

So was this a "very special episode"? No, but you could see it from here when Mike veered into a public service announcement on the walk out of the office, data dumping on Steve statistics about alcoholism in America and giving AA a plug. Officer Jeff will never know why Steve turned down his offer to go toss back a couple beers, as if Mike and Steve's abstaining from alcohol that night would somehow atone for Joe's sins.

Let's keep it real and admit it's hard to watch an older Leslie Nielsen dramatic performance and not think of Lt. Frank Drebin, especially when Nielsen is playing a cop. But Nielsen was so compelling as Joe that I forgot all about Drebin... until he threatened to run in that rummy for vagrancy. That scene just cracked me up even as I appreciated its poignancy. Here's Joe hitting rock bottom, sitting on the curb drinking alongside two bums accosting him for a swig and who understandably laugh at his trying to play policeman to them.

Okay, gilding the lily was having the Salvation Army band playing "Amazing Grace," which brought to my mind GUYS N' DOLLS. At least Joe didn't take the pledge and climb on the wagon in some maudlin display.

Adding immeasurably to the episode's heft was Ric Carrot as Corky Shaffer. He had a major role and played a pivotal part and really deserved to be listed in the opening credits. I know Carrot primarily from his later live-action Saturday morning sci-fi series SPACE ACADEMY, so it was great fun seeing him in this different role and doing it so well.

Sad was the short shrift veteran actor Jock Mahoney received playing ill-fated Officer Mel Shaffer. He only had a few lines and then bang, he was gone. Not only was Mahoney impressive as Tarzan in a couple pictures but he headlined his own late-fifties Western series, YANCY DERRINGER. He deserved better than he got.

I cringed through the over-emoting of Jacqueline Scott as the grieving widow but admired the stoic and ever-hopeful Susan Strasberg as concerned wife Helen Graves. I agreed with the street punks who cried "police brutality," especially after that crusty old cop yanked Franky away from his pregnant wife in mid-kiss!

Speaking of Frank Graves, Robert Drivas was excellent as the wrong man driving the wrong make and model at the wrong time. Drivas will always be imprinted on my memory as Chris Vashon in that celebrated three-part HAWAII FIVE-O epic, so I was immediately suspecting he was guilty of something after he took off with tires squealing after the shooting. It was only after he was interrogated in Stone's office did I begrudgingly believe he was innocent. A fine performance from a fine actor... but that suit? Hoo-boy. Okay, it was 1974. I mean, there's Joe Landers driving a yellow Pinto, for cryin' out loud.

I learned that today, February 11, 2025. The date I enjoyed the episode and wrote this review, would have been Leslie Nielsen's 99th birthday (he died in 2010 at age 84). It was serendipitous I started the third season tonight and caught his closing appearance on the series. Of his three guest spots, I rank "One Last Shot" as number two, "Legion of the Lost" third, and "Before I Die" as number one. All are good, however, and well worth watching and rewatching.

Watching 1960's epic film THE ALAMO it wasn't John Wayne's Davy Crockett or Richard Widmark's Jim Bowie that proved so compelling compared to Laurence Harvey's Col. William Travis, right? I mean, wasn't Travis the man you just yearned to see take center stage? If you answered yes, you stand with Bob and Wanda Duncan and likely enjoyed their exercise in squandered potential. The rest of us ask in bitter bemusement, how could they have messed this up?

The star-studded movie ran a whopping two hours and forty-two minutes and proved compelling all the way through, but "The Alamo" episode of TIME TUNNEL runs fifty minutes and proves a dreary and dull affair. Again, how did they manage to mess this up?

Ditching Davy Crockett. If people know anything about the Alamo it's that Davy Crockett died there fighting till his last breath. So why is he inexplicably and inexcusably MIA from this episode? Yeah, eagle-eyed viewers will spot a fellow in a coonskin cap when Doug and Tony are brought into the ill-fated fort, but that's it. And don't tell me Disney held the rights to the character. Crockett is a historical figure, not a fictional creation, so you can't hold the rights to Crockett any more than a company could hold rights to Abraham Lincoln, star of last week's episode.

Benching Jim Bowie. The second most iconic and fascinating figure at the Alamo was Jim Bowie, famous for the knife that bears his name (Frankie Lane sang a catchy song about it). But Bowie is benched for most of this story and then sent to the showers after taking his famous fall thanks to Tony. In his too few scenes, Bowie brought buckskinned bombast to the otherwise staid proceedings.

An aside, the real Jim Bowie was 39 on the day the Alamo fell. In the 1960 film he was played by 45-year-old Richard Widmark, and here by a 57-year-old Jim Davis. I loved Davis as Jock Ewing, but boy was he wildly miscast as Jim Bowie.

The Maguffin of Doug's Concussion. We're thirteen shows in and the formula is showing and wearing thin. Why do Doug and Tony have to separate in virtually every story? This episode would have been so much better had all the action been confined to the Alamo. Doug's is twice knocked on the noggin and is seeing double and can't even hold his head up. At least until after Tony takes off on his fool's errand to bring back a doctor, immediately after which Doug is suddenly hale, hearty and in fighting trim.

Wow, what an obvious a ploy to give Tony a solo side-adventure. I wouldn't care if it were good, but it was so painfully lame. Tony in a rookie move gets captured by the Frito Bandito and hauled bound and gagged to the local generale, who just happens to be in the company of the very doctor Tony is looking for. How convenient, coincidental, and contrived!

Too Much Travis and Reynerson. It's beyond rational thought why Bob and Wanda Duncan decided to swing the spotlight off the colorful characters of Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie and instead shine it on the dull martinet Travis and the fictional Reynerson, thus inflicting a mortal wound on the narrative. Travis was just a redressed Custer from a few weeks ago, and Reynerson was simply the formula's necessary plot device of an ally to assist Doug and Tony. With them as the leading guest stars, the show never achieved escape velocity.

Who else is growing weary with the now obligatory "accidental" bringing through the tunnel the wrong person? Cue another pop-eyed and jaw-dropped denizen of the past whom our crack crew/crew on crack locked onto by mistake. I was waiting for General Kirk to pull rank on Colonel Travis, but no, Kirk just shows the dazed visitor a video of his impending death and sends him back through the tunnel.

Is Doug a scientist or a historian? How many historians would know the exact date the Alamo fell? Doug does. And Doug also has no misgivings about playing his prescience of the future as a supernatural gift, really stringing along the gullible Reynerson, bragging with a mystical portentousness that he knows events a hundred years and more into the future.

In the end, what could have been--should have been--a tense nailbiter of a story as Doug and Tony race against a clock inexorably ticking down to a massacre sunk into a talky and dull affair that did a real disservice to the real-life drama of the Alamo.