SO LONG, ARCHIE

“The program you are about to see is ‘All in the Family.’ It seeks to throw a humorous spotlight on our frailties, prejudices, and concerns. By making them a source of laughter, we hope to show - in a mature fashion - just how absurd they are.”

I was just shy of two years old in March 1971, when that famous disclaimer was announced before the premiere episode of the controversial CBS sitcom - one that not only changed the landscape of television, but became a barometer of the changes that were occurring throughout America in the turbulent 1970’s. “All in the Family” was well into syndication when I first viewed it, but the fact that the episodes were reruns did not blunt their impact on me in the least. It was through watching the show that I was first exposed to such issues as racial prejudice, religious intolerance, menopause, impotence, abortion, alternative lifestyles, gun control, and rape. It was from that program that I started piecing together what Watergate, Vietnam, Women’s Lib, the Civil Rights Movement, and the Ku Klux Klan were all about. I still watch the reruns today, and, while many of the references are hopelessly dated (Not many people under 35 have even heard of George McGovern, much less remember his presidential bid), the humor is still fresh, the moral and social issues still relevant, and the characters still as vibrant, complex, and well-defined as any in the history of television. While the combination of fantastic writing and outstanding acting by the ensemble cast can never be downplayed, the show’s anchor - the element that elevates “All in the Family” from smart sitcom to high art - is its main character: gruff, coarse, bigoted-yet-somehow-lovable Archie Bunker, brought to iconic life by veteran actor Carroll O’Connor.

O’Connor died June 21st, at age 76, and is being laid to rest as I write this, at a star-studded funeral in Los Angeles. Like others in my field, the passing of this fine actor has given me pause to reflect on the significance of his work, primarily on the character for which he is best remembered. On the surface, the premise of “All in the Family” (based on an earlier British sitcom entitled “Till Death Do Us Part”) was simple: right-wing, working class Archie in conflict with liberal, intellectual son-in-law, Mike Stivic. If this was all the show was about, it would’ve surely died a quick death, especially with the wrong casting. The central character of Archie, a narrow-minded, bombastic bigot, was key. The program’s success and longevity hinged on the ability of the actor who played Archie to show us he’s more than the abrasive caricature he could have easily become - to make us believe that while he wasn’t a man to be emulated, or even necessarily respected, he was a man that could be understood, and, ultimately, even sympathized with.

Series creator Norman Lear rose to the challenge, bypassing early suggestions - Mickey Rooney, for one - and casting O’Connor, who until that point was known mainly for character roles on TV and in movies. (O’Connor had recently been turned down for the role of the Skipper on “Gilligan’s Island.”) Imbuing Archie Bunker with a depth of character, a sense of humanity and pathos that no other actor could likely have managed, O’Connor made the role his own. O’Connor’s Archie wasn’t a hateful person; he was ignorant, misguided, a product of his Depression-era upbringing. This was a man who believed it a compliment to declare that all blacks were great dancers, or to refuse to consider the services of any lawyer who wasn’t Jewish. And through all the yelling and screaming and conflict, he was a man who loved his family... even when it seemed as though they were joining the rest of the world, one he perceived as against him. It was a milestone in casting,

Carroll O’Connor didn’t just portray Archie Bunker, he became him. The mannerisms, facial expressions, nicknames (“meathead” and “dingbat” have become part of our national vocabulary), even the dead-on Queens accent were delivered with such ease and grace that it was hard to imagine that this was an actor playing a role. I so identified O’Connor with Archie that, as good as he was in his later role on “In the Heat of the Night,” I could never get into it because all I kept hearing was Archie Bunker putting on a fake Southern accent. (Never mind that Archie’s accent was as far from O’Connor’s true dialect as his arch-conservative stance was from the actor’s liberal leanings.)

With today’s envelope-pushing TV trends, it’s easy for some to downplay the historic significance of “All in the Family,” and to oversimplify the character of Archie, dwelling only on his prejudices, chauvinism, temper, and overall beer-swilling, cigar-chomping, blue-collar persona. (Archie Bunker was, in fact, one of the first truly defiant cigar smokers on TV; smokers today will get an ironic kick out of one of my favorite episodes, wherein Archie makes a bet with Mike - portrayed by California’s cigar scourge, Rob Reiner, in his younger, thinner days - that he can go longer without a cigar than Mike can without food. Hilarious stuff. But I digress.) The truth is, Archie Bunker and “All in the Family” blazed the trail that today’s television is still following, breaking the barriers of what could be said, shown, and addressed on prime-time TV. No small feat for a midseason replacement show that reveled in being “politically incorrect” long before the term even existed. Donna McCrohan, in her book, Archie and Edith, Mike and Gloria: The Tumultuous History of All in the Family, summed it up perfectly: “To describe ‘All in the Family’ as a series about a bigot is as comprehensive a statement as saying that Gone with the Wind is about a much-married woman of Irish ancestry during the Civil War, or that Casablanca is about a man who runs a nightclub in Africa.”

So let’s light up a cigar and raise a beer to toast a fine actor, to acknowledge the importance of the character to whom he gave life, and to commemorate an American TV classic. So long, Carroll.