TV Exchange of the Day (Niles Crane, on Bro “Frasier’s” Unlikely New Love)

Niles Crane (played by David Hyde-Pierce): (to brother, and fellow psychiatrist, Frasier, played by Kelsey Grammer): “You're dating Dr. Honey Snow? I thought you considered her a complete ninny. What could you possibly see in this...”
[The boys’ father, Martin Crane, played by John Mahoney, holds up the photo of Dr. Snow—played by future reality-star queen Shannon Tweed--on a book jacket]
Niles: “WHOA-HO, MAMA!”—“You Scratch My Book,” Frasier (1995), Season 2, Episode 15, written by Joe Keenan, directed by Anthony Ackerman, original air date February 14, 1995

TV Exchange of the Day (“Taxi”: In Memory of Jeff Conaway)

Bobby Wheeler (played by Jeff Conaway): [Bobby helps Jim fill out his test] “Have you ever experienced loss of consciousness, hallucinations, dizzy spells, convulsive disorders, fainting, or periods of loss of memory?”
“Reverend” Jim Ignatowski (played by Christopher Lloyd): “Hasn't everyone?”
Elaine O’Connor-Nardo (played by Marilu Henner): “Put no.”
Bobby (continuing to read): “Mental illness or narcotic addiction?”
Jim: “That's a tough choice.”
Elaine: “Put no!”
Bobby: “OK, that's it! You’re ready for the test.”
Jim: “I thought that was the test!”--Taxi, Season 2, Episode 3, “Reverend Jim: A Space Odyssey,” written by Les Charles and Glen Charles, directed by James Burrows, air date September 25, 1979

Longtime fans of Taxi, one of the great products of either the MTM sitcom factory or one of its laborers, have spent years howling at the above dialogue. Now, however, one line—“Mental illness or narcotics addiction?”—makes me, for one, wince. In the case of the actor who said it, Jeff Conaway (at the top of the accompanying image), it strikes too uncomfortably close to home in the wake of his death this past week following years of alcohol and drug abuse, along with more recent battles with prescription medicine addiction.

You didn’t have to read any of Conaway’s obituaries, or even see his horrifying appearances (sometimes high) on Celebrity Rehab, to know that something had gone very badly wrong in his life. It was also apparent in his declining (in terms of quality and quantity) film and TV credits, a signal that something worse than abominable career choices was at work.

It’s too easy to write Conaway off as a cautionary tale about the steep price that comes with sudden fame. But, from knowing people who’ve struggled with substance abuse and depression over the years, I think there was another, far better person beneath the battered face he presented to the world in his last years.

I prefer to think of Conaway as a vital member of a terrific ensemble cast that helped get me through my college years reasonably intact. I had books galore during that time from the ancient Greeks to Freud, but all the philosophy I needed on how to survive my daytime (and some of my nighttime) hours in New York City came from the motley crew of this quintessential workplace-as-home comedy. No matter what hour I watched, it was always sunshine for me whenever I caught the doings of the Sunshine Cab Co. of lower Manhattan.

I say that Conaway was an essential member of the cast, even though his character, Bobby Wheeler, wasn’t the most adult, talented, funny, photogenic, or unusual in the bunch. I say this even though Conaway left the show well before the end of its five-year run. (The producers “disrespected” him, he felt, and working with wild Andy Kaufman wasn’t part of his deal in signing up.)

No, I say this because Bobby epitomized what all the characters (save Alex Reiger) represented on the show. In a group full of dreamers, Bobby Wheeler was the quintessential one, the one that all the creative professionals associated with the sitcom had run into their entire professional lives: a good-looking, vain, not-always-there guy who thought of himself primarily as an actor, even though he was forced to do this stinking job to make ends meet.

But it would only be for awhile, you got that? Because that big break was waiting around the corner—Bobby just knew it. No matter how much he preened, you rooted for him to pass his next audition.

Co-stars from Taxi (Marilu Henner) and Grease (John Travolta and Conaway’s onetime sister-in-law, Olivia Newton-John) have all issued statements mourning the actor as a warm-hearted colleague. In the same spirit, let’s remember the light he gave off in his youth rather than the darkness in which he died. If a dream never dies, neither should a dreamer.

TV Exchange of the Day (“The Nanny,” on “Cats”)

Maury Sherry (played by Hal Linden): “Turn it into a sitcom.”
Max Sheffield (played by Charles Shaughnessy): “Why?”
Maury: “'Cause I like funny.”
Max: “Mr. Sherry, my play is an allegory dealing with early man's struggle to survive.”
Maury: “So was The Flintstones.”
Max: “You see, Maury, I am a man of the theater and there is such a thing as artistic integrity. And I can't sign this! I have an obligation to…”
Maury: “You'd make more money in one season of a sitcom than a ten-year run of Cats.”
Max: “Do you have a pen?”—The Nanny, “California, Here We Come,” Season 6, Episode 14, written by Suzanne Gangurski based on a story by Mary Lindes and Gangursky, directed by Peter Mark Jacobson, air date March 31, 1999

This wasn’t the only reference on The Nanny to Cats: There are at least two others that I know, and true aficionados of the long-running sitcom (unlike myself, who comes across it while channel-changing) may well be able to turn up more.

Max, you see, as nanny Fran is not reluctant to remind him, passed on the musical that ended up running “Now and Forever”--or at least close to it. It premiered at the New London Theatre in London’s West End on this date in 1981, and didn’t close for another 20. When it came to the U.S. a year later, it enjoyed similar success. Today, its total number of performances on Broadway is surpassed only by another musical by Andrew Lloyd-Webber: The Phantom of the Opera.

Now, this sitcom that Maury is talking about has to make a heap of money if it makes more than Cats. But Max is right to have his “artistic integrity” (no matter how quickly he abandons it).

The cliché about Stephen Sondheim has always been that he doesn’t write hummable songs. But come now, is Lloyd-Webber any better? Fast—do you recall any song from Cats besides “Memory”or, for that matter, any song from Phantom besides “Music of the Night”?

No. What you do remember about those shows is the stagecraft: the chandeliers and boat in Phantom, those feline costumes in Cats. (A number of years ago, on the Fourth of July, a cast member--or former cast member--was the hit of this local American parade by promenading all the way down in his costume from this British-originating show.)

Aside from all the money coming into him hand over fist (which should be enough by itself), I can think of one other reason why Lloyd-Webber would love Cats: he didn’t have a collaborator or performer to tangle with. T.S. Eliot, whose Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats gave Lloyd- Webber the plot (or what there was of it) for the show, had been dead 16 years before it showed up at the West End.

Thus, he didn't have to deal with the likes of lyricist Tim Rice--who, whatever he did, got the entertainment knight so ticked off at him that the two didn't work together for another 34 years, until their recently announced adaptation of The Wizard of Oz. (Why they would invite comparisons to a movie musical with more memorable songs in two hours than they have written in their entire careers is beyond me.)

And none of the performers appearing in the show at that time had the megawattage of Patti Lupone, who made Lloyd-Webber pay dearly (enough so she could buy a swimming pool, no less!) for his lily-livered decision to sack her from Sunset Boulevard before it reached Broadway.

In case you can’t tell, I’m not a fan of Lloyd-Webber. But what do I know? I’m not the one with gazillion bucks.

TV Exchange of the Day (“Seinfeld,” Showing Even Back Then “It Was McDowell”)

Newman (played by Wayne Knight) (to Keith Hernandez): “June 14th, 1987. Mets Phillies. You made a big error. Cost the Mets the game. Then you're coming up the parking lot ramp.”
Keith Hernandez (playing himself): “YOU said, ‘Nice game, pretty boy.’”
Kramer (played by Michael Richards): “Ah, you remember.”
Newman: “And then you spit on us.”
Keith: “Hey, I didn't spit at you.”
Newman: “Oh, yeah, right.”
Kramer: “No no no, well, then who was it?”
Keith: “Well lookit, the way I remember it [back to the grainy 8mm Zapruder-like film parody] I was walking up the ramp. I was upset about the game. That's when you called me pretty boy. It ticked me off. I started to turn around to say something and as I turned around I saw Roger McDowell behind the bushes over by that gravely road. … Anyway he was talking to someone and they were talking to you. I tried to scream out but it was too late. It was already on its way.”
Jerry Seinfeld (playing himself—sort of): “I told you!”
Newman: “Wow, it was McDowell.”
Jerry: “But why? Why McDowell? “
Kramer: “Well, maybe because we were sitting in the right field stands cursing at him in the bullpen all game.”
Newman: “He must have caught a glimpse of us when I poured that beer on his head.”
Newman: “It was McDowell.”—Seinfeld, Season 3, Episode 18, “The Boyfriend, Part II,” written by Larry David and Larry Levin, directed by Tom Cherones, original air date February 12, 1992

Did Larry David ever dream that life would imitate art for Roger McDowell? Seems like the onetime Mets reliever really does take cranky fans a little too much to heart. This week, of course, he got into trouble for hurling homophobic insults at three fans…then profanely threatening another fan who protested that such behavior wasn’t appropriate in front of children…then simulating sex with a bat and his hands.

In other words, a lot worse than launching a “magic loogie.”

During his playing days, McDowell had something of a reputation as a merry prankster—perhaps why he was so up for his bit part in the classic Seinfeld "second spitter" episode. But he’s not laughing too much these days, especially after being put on administrative leave from his current job as a pitching coach.

Of course, Mets fans would say, this is what he gets for working for their onetime (and perhaps future) tormenters, the Atlanta Braves.

TV Exchange of the Day (“Friends,” Comparing “Little Women” and “The Shining”)

Joey (played by Matt LeBlanc): “Is that true? If I keep reading is Beth gonna die?”

Chandler (played by Matthew Perry): “No, Beth doesn't die. She doesn't die. Does she, Rachel?”

Rachel (played by Jennifer Aniston): “What?”

Ross (played by David Schwimmer): “Joey's asking if you've just ruined the first book he's ever loved that didn't star Jack Nicholson?”—Friends, “The One Where Monica and Richard Are Just Friends,” Season 3, Episode 13, teleplay by Michael Borkow, directed by Robby Benson, original air date Jan. 30, 1997

TV Exchange of the Day (Fred Sanford, in Tender By-Play With His Sister-in-Law)

Aunt Esther (played by LaWanda Page): “Who you calling ugly, sucker?”

Fred Sanford (played by Redd Foxx): “I'm calling you ugly. I could push your face in some dough and make gorilla cookies.”—Sanford and Son, Season 3, Episode 2, “Libra Rising All Over Lamont,” airdate September 21, 1973, teleplay by Ilunga Adell, directed by Jack Shea

TV Exchange of the Day (“Scoundrels,” on Photographers and Supermodels)

Heather West (played by Leven Rambin): “Mom, Rene is a brilliant artist. See? Totally legitimate. He shot Gisele Bundchen when she was 14. You know what she made last year?”'

Cheryl West (played by Virginia Madsen, pictured here): “Some dirty old man very happy?”—“And Jill Came Tumbling After,” Premiere Episode of Scoundrels, teleplay by Lynnie Gray and Richard Levine, directed by Julie Anne Robinson, original air date June 20, 2010

TV Exchange of the Day (“Seinfeld,” on George Steinbrenner)

Jerry Seinfeld (played by Jerry Seinfeld): “So what's Steinbrenner gonna do if he doesn't get his calzone?”
George Costanza (played by Jason Alexander): “What's he gonna do? That's exactly the point! Nobody knows what this guy is capable of! He fires people like it's a bodily function!”—“The Calzone,” Episode 20, Season 7 of Seinfeld, written by Alec Berg and Jeff Schaffer, air date April 25, 1996

Just think of it—even on the day he died, the guy who put the fear of God in George Costanza stole the headlines—from the All-Star Game!

All sorts of reminiscences and commentaries (including a truly bizarre one from Rush Limbaugh) are pouring out on George Steinbrenner. Let’s stipulate right away that he won more championships than any other New York owner (even the Maras); that Yankee tradition meant a great deal to him; and that he was capable of many acts of private kindness.

I’m still bothered by the bullying that Seinfeld satirized. One of his great—and all-too-appropriate—quotes went, “I will never have a heart attack. I give them.” The first part of that statement proves that the longtime Yankee owner was no Nostradamus, but the second part was demonstrably true, or close to it.

I’m afraid that Steinbrenner’s attitude is all too symptomatic of what’s wrong with today’s business world. Daily abuse and humiliation rituals seem to be the first resort of all too many company executives—and the economy these last few years may have only worsened the situation. That produces all too much physical and psychological sickness, with all kinds of consequences in family life and the larger American society. There's a price to be had for this, and that should not be forgotten in Steinbrenner's case, even with the natural tendency not to speak ill of the dead--or, to at least present a balanced assessment of the deceased.

May The Boss know fully the peace he seldom realized in life for himself or others.

TV Exchange of the Day (Bruce Springsteen and Steve Van Zandt)

Bruce: “What time is it, Steven?”
Steve: “IT’S BOSS TIME!”—Bruce Springsteen and “Miami Steve” Van Zandt, concluding the 12-minute halftime set at the Super Bowl played by The Boss and the E Street Band

(No disrespect to the actual game—which turned out to be one of the best in the long history of the Super Bowl—but in my humble opinion, the short but sweet four-song set surpassed what took place on the gridiron. The way The Boss ran and skidded along the edge of the stage, you’d have thought he was 38 rather than 58 years old! I also enjoyed the way he integrated his new song, “Working on a Dream,” into as rousing an anthem as the others he played: “Tenth Avenue Freezeout,” “Born to Run,” and, of course, “Glory Days.” Like more than a few of his fans, I only wish he could have played longer! As for what happened on the field in the closing minutes—well, let’s just say I’m sure my brother from Pittsburgh is breathing a lot easier now!)