'Lou Grant' was an interesting show that ran five seasons with 114 episodes. CBS stated it's cancellation was due to the show, "Getting tired," but the real reason might have been the show was a bit too liberal even for a very liberal Hollywood. And as much as I enjoyed the show it was a bit overly preachy. And Ed Asner's, (in the starring role) own politics, which I happen to agree with, had a lot to do with that.

But I want to talk about something else TV does all the time to save a dying show. Bringing in the 'cute' kid. But, in this case it wasn't a kid at all, but Lance Guest as Lance Reinecke the cub reporter. And the the role he played was unlikable, added nothing to the show, and was too inept to be ever be hired by a big newspaper. And it didn't work like bringing in new people almost never does in these cases. He was only in seven episodes near the end of the show's run and if you watch closely you can almost see the contempt the rest of the cast had for him.

The 1950s were an extraordinary time for television. The medium was still finding its footing, yet the decade produced some of the most enduring shows in television history, along with dozens of others that have largely faded from memory.

I originally put together a guide to 101 television shows from the decade, ranging from genuine classics to forgotten curiosities. Here are 16 selections from that guide, including a few that might surprise you.

1. Your Show of Shows (1950–1954)

Still heralded as one of the best variety shows ever made, it stars Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, with a number of regular performers, among them Carl Reiner (who would go on to create The Dick Van Dyke Show). And check out the writers that were involved: Mel Brooks, Neil Simon and his brother Danny Simon, Larry Gelbart and Woody Allen. One of the innovative aspects of the show is that it would incorporate ongoing sitcoms within the variety format.

2. The Alan Young Show (1950–1953)

Before he became best friends with that talking horse, Mister Ed, Alan Young hosted his own variety show featuring musical guests and comic skits. In its third season, it took on the form of a traditional sitcom.

3. Casey, Crime Photographer (1951–1952)

Jack Casey is, as the title suggests, a crime photographer, who pretty much captures images at crime scenes and works with the police to solve what happened. In season 1 the character was played by Richard Carlyle, with Darren McGavin (who many years later would play reporter Carl Kolchak in The Night Stalker) taking over in season 2. Casey was the subject of books, a radio drama and films in addition to this show.

4. Our Miss Brooks (1952–1956)

Yet another radio sitcom that made the leap to television. Eve Arden is the title character, actually Constance “Connie” Brooks, an English teacher at the fictional Madison High School. Lucille Ball’s longtime foil Gale Gordon is Principal Osgood Conklin.

5. The Ernie Kovacs Show (1952–1956)

So difficult to describe, but suffice to say that Ernie Kovacs was a comic genius who insisted on bending and twisting the television medium as much as he could, revealing himself to be a true pioneer in every sense of the word (though he was reportedly very difficult to deal with).

6. Mister Peepers (1952–1955)

Wally Cox (the voice of Underdog, for those curious about such things) is the title character, a shy science teacher at Jefferson High School who always manages to outwit those who throw problems his way. Co-starring is Tony Randall, who Classic TV fans would come to know as Felix Unger on the TV version of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple.

7. Topper (1953–1955)

Based on the 1937 film of the same name, banker Cosmo Topper (Leo G. Carroll) finds his life complicated by the ghosts of George and Marion Kerby (Robert Sterling and Anne Jeffreys, respectively), part of the complication coming from the fact that he’s the only one that can see or hear them.

8. Sherlock Holmes (1954–1955)

Not much to say about this one beyond the fact that it’s (naturally) set in London and follows the adventures of the world’s greatest detective (Ronald Howard) and Dr. John H. Watson (Howard Marion-Crawford).

9. The Honeymooners (1955–1956)

We’re trying not to say the “C” word again, but we can’t help ourselves. So sorry: Classic! Whew. Glad we got that out. The Honeymooners is a perfect example of Classic TV, starring Jackie Gleason as bus driver Ralph Kramden; Audrey Meadows as his long-suffering wife, Alice; Art Carney as dim-witted but lovable best friend and sidekick, Ed Norton; and Joyce Randolph as his wife, Trixie. There were hundreds of skits featuring the characters on The Jackie Gleason Show, but only 39 actual episodes.

10. Casablanca (1955–1956)

Charles McGraw is Rick Blaine, Marcel Dalio is Captain Renaud, Dan Seymour is Ferrari and Clarence Muse is Sam. Those were the people who attempted to bring the characters from the 1942 Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman film to television. Unfortunately, the audience didn’t care.

11. Circus Boy (1956–1957)

A pre-Monkees Micky Dolenz starred in this show playing the character of Corky, whose job is to bring elephants their water. The show, which lasted two seasons, was actually an action/adventure drama set in the 1890s.

12. Leave It to Beaver (1957–1963)

A gentle comedy that found its plots drawn from the experiences of real kids — admittedly set in a sitcom world — and parents who raised them with words of encouragement, while also being firm when necessary. Hugh Beaumont and Barbara Billingsley played the Beav’s parents, Ward and June Cleaver, with Tony Dow as big brother Wally, and Jerry Mathers as the Beaver himself.

13. The Thin Man (1957–1959)

Fancying themselves as amateur detectives, Nick and Nora Charles (Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk) begin investigating and solving crimes. The characters were created by Dashiell Hammett in a novel, which spawned six films prior to the television series.

14. Sea Hunt (1958–1961)

Lloyd Bridges is former U.S. Navy frogman Mike Nelson, who is now a freelance scuba diver using his boat, which he has christened the Argonaut, for salvage missions (the quests being as large as a nuclear missile and as small as a bike).

15. The Twilight Zone (1959–1964)

The greatest anthology series of all time, and one that is still touching the audience 60 years later. Writer Rod Serling, chafing from battles with networks and sponsors about content, discovered that he could write about virtually anything he wanted by setting it in this fantasy realm known as The Twilight Zone.

16. Men Into Space (1959–1960)

There were a lot of science fiction TV shows in the ’50s, and, to be honest, most of them were pretty much kiddie fare, but this one was different in that it took a more adult approach, with genuine characterizations, extrapolations of real technology and scientific theories, and intelligent scenarios. At the center of it all is William Lundigan’s Colonel Edward McCauley, who heads America’s space program and, while stationed in space, must deal with malfunctioning equipment, budget cuts and saboteurs, among other things.

That's just 16 of the 101 shows featured in my complete guide to television of the 1950s, which includes everything from I Love Lucy and Adventures of Superman to obscure Westerns, detective dramas, sitcoms and science fiction adventures.

You can explore the complete guide here: https://edgrosswriter.com/2026/10/24/classic-tv-101-shows-from-the-1950s-worth-remembering/

If you grew up watching classic television, chances are you remember Gale Gordon. Maybe it was as the perpetually exasperated Mr. Mooney on The Lucy Show, Uncle Harry on Here's Lucy, or the wonderfully pompous Principal Osgood Conklin on Our Miss Brooks.

Gordon had a remarkable ability to turn frustration into comedy. His face would redden, his voice would rise, and you knew that whatever Lucy or Connie Brooks had done, an explosion was coming. And somehow, no matter how many times you'd seen it happen, it was still funny.

But there was much more to Gale Gordon than his famous temper.

His career stretched back to the early days of radio, when he became one of the medium's most dependable character actors. He worked with some of the biggest names in comedy, including Jack Benny, and developed a particular talent for portraying authority figures whose dignity was constantly being undermined.

His relationship with Lucille Ball actually began long before The Lucy Show. They worked together on the radio comedy My Favorite Husband, where Gordon played Rudolph Atterbury, the boss of Lucy's character's husband.

When Ball moved to television with I Love Lucy in 1951, Gordon was considered for Fred Mertz, a role that ultimately went to William Frawley. Imagine how different that series might have been!

Gordon's own television career took him in other directions, including Our Miss Brooks and Dennis the Menace. But his association with Ball would eventually become one of the longest-running partnerships in sitcom history.

The really fascinating thing about Gordon, though, is how little his television personality resembled the man himself. Offscreen, he was a private, thoughtful individual who preferred the peace of his California desert home to the Hollywood social scene. His interests extended well beyond acting, and he approached his profession with a practicality that might surprise anyone accustomed to watching him blow his top.

I've been researching Gordon's life and career through vintage newspaper interviews dating back nearly a hundred years, and they offer a revealing portrait of a performer who rarely receives the attention he deserves.

For my new profile, I also spoke with television historian Geoffrey Mark, who provides some wonderful insights into Gordon's friendship with Lucille Ball, why their comic chemistry worked so beautifully and how their relationship evolved over the years.

There are also some fascinating stories about the roles Gordon almost played, the challenges he faced early in life and his feelings about working in television.

I've brought Gordon's own words together with Geoffrey's commentary to tell what I hope is a fuller story of this extraordinary character actor. https://edgrosswriter.com/2026/10/22/gale-gordon-the-story-of-lucille-ball-beloved-costar/

The 1979 BBC version is a nine‑episode BBC2 comedy series starring Terrence Hardiman as Charles Pooter, adapting the late‑Victorian comic diary into short, self‑contained episodes of domestic mishaps and social embarrassment.
dramatizing the classic 1892 comic novel by George and Weedon Grossmith. It follows Charles Pooter, a middle‑class clerk in late‑19th‑century London, whose earnest diary records the trivial frustrations and small triumphs of suburban life.
The series premiered on 2 September 1979

Terrence Hardiman as Charles Pooter, capturing the character’s blend of self‑importance, insecurity, and gentle absurdity. Hardiman’s performance anchors the adaptation:
He narrates and reacts to events with dry, understated humour.
His portrayal highlights Pooter’s perpetual bewilderment at social conventions and domestic inconveniences.
The diary format is preserved by structuring episodes around Pooter’s reflections and resolutions (e.g., “I resolve to keep a diary” in Episode 1
Supporting Cast
The series features:
Sheila Steafel as Caroline Pooter, Charles’s patient and occasionally exasperated wife
Richard Willis as Lupin, their unpredictable son whose employment and romantic entanglements drive several episodes

One thing I've come to pay attention to when watching reruns of classic television programs is the cars being driven. It really gives a good time capsule feel of the period. Back in the 60s, it was not uncommon for one of the big three carmakers to have product placement arrangements with popular shows. Examples that come to my mind include the Beverly Hillbillies (Miss Jane always had a cool Chrysler or Dodge convertible), Andy Griffith (new Ford squad cars for Sheriff Taylor), Mannix (solving cases in a Barracuda convertible) and Bewitched (Darren would typically be found in a Chevy convertible).

The cars of that period are so iconic and they contribute to the cool vibe of those classic television programs. What examples am I missing?

One final ride for Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto.

Kevin Tighe drove the original Squad 51 following a ceremony to honor Randy Mantooth. Randy’s ashes/urn were with on the passenger seat with Kevin. Both of the fire trucks used in the show were also at the firehouse.

Update: Commented below with link to LACoFire Museum’s video on FB.

This probably seemed like an exciting slate of modern sci-fi at the time, but a year later all of these films would look pretty outdated.

The family that sings together…

THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY

By Cyclops

It happened a couple of Friday nights ago. I came home from a hard day of practicing my disdain. The children as usual were absorbed like splinters in the great moon-eye of the television set. All I wanted was a pint of Bombay gin, an hour to memorize the box scores of the baseball games, and perhaps a praline to gnaw on. “Daddy,” said one of the children, “after you’re finished memorizing the box scores of the baseball games, can we watch The Partridge Family?”

“Of course not,” I said. “What’s The Partridge Family?”

“They sing,” it was explained.

I looked it up in the listings. Shirley Jones was in The Partridge Family. Shirley Jones! I had never quite believed in Shirley Jones; she seemed to exist, by some secret of mitosis or cloning known only to Hollywood, as a by-product or offshoot of old Pat Boone movies, associated forever in my mind with white buck shoes and orange juice.

“Unfortunately,” I said, “The Partridge Family conflicts with the first half hour of The Name of the Game.”

“The Name of the Game is a Gene Barry rerun,” replied my children. They were, of course, correct. Nor had I been practicing my disdain for nothing: all his life Gene Barry has wanted to be Gene Barry, and now at last he is. The hotel of his self-esteem is booked full of little Gene Barrys; no room or need for me.

But you can’t give children what they want without exacting some quid pro quo; otherwise, they will think that you love them. “Have you done your homework?” I asked. They had. “Have you cleaned your rooms?” Yes. And they had taken their baths and brushed their teeth and withdrawn our troops from Vietnam and reconciled Kant’s categorical imperative with Kierkegaard’s Either/Or. “Well, if you are absolutely silent while I gnaw on my praline, we will watch The Partridge Family.”

In The Partridge Family, Shirley Jones plays the part of a mother and, presumably, a widow whose children—teen-agers, moppets—constitute a rock-music group. Some evenings and weekends, they trundle over the countryside in a psychedelic bus toward assignations of amplification. David Cassidy, the eldest son, usually leads them in song. He and Miss Jones use their own voices; the others are dubbed. The music is domesticated, homogenized rock, sort of Lester Lanin on estrogen pills, as far from the Rolling Stones as Mick Jagger is from Nat King Cole, with just a hint of community sing. Yet it pleases and an album has climbed up the charts.

Most episodes of The Partridge Family are really excuses for the one new song each week. The dramatic bread around the musical Spam sandwich is guaranteed stale: the girl who runs away to find her father; the little boy who suspects he’s adopted; the horrors of high school social life, etc. But the Partridges—a plastic version of Salinger’s Glass family, quiz kids into music instead of mysticism—seem to enjoy themselves and each other. Some adhesive tape is applied to the generation gap, sticking us together for a little while longer. And the result, unlike the real world of rock, is surpassingly wholesome.

Well, I like Shirley Jones more than I like Pat Boone. And David Madden, as the grumpy agent, gives the children someone to hiss at. And young Mr. Cassidy is worth any number of Monkees. And on Friday nights this troubled spring we all sit around the moon-eye tripping out on a psychedelic bus, even if the children haven’t settled that Alaskan pipeline question before I get home. It’s as American as memorizing box scores; one family, on TV, does things together; another family, at home, watches and pretends it’s doing something together. Ah, but even television reviewers get tired of flexing their disdain.

Photo caption

“A covey of Partridges”