I have been thinking a lot about “The Andy Griffith Show,” which is but one chapter in Mr. Griffith’s long and important career – but for most of us, it’s what we think of first and think of most fondly when we remember Andy Griffith, who of course died on the third of July. And maybe I feel a special affection for this particular program because the show and I were both born in 1960.
In fact, our respective births are even closer than that. I was born on February 16th. The day before, February 15th, an interesting episode of “The Danny Thomas Show” aired in which Danny and his wife run into some trouble while driving through a small town… Mayberry, North Carolina… and the trouble gets worse when Danny crosses paths with the town’s combination sheriff, justice of the peace, and newspaper editor. That character, of course, was Andy Taylor, played by the inimitable Andy Griffith. . .and a few months later, “The Andy Griffith Show” premiered and begun one of the best runs in television history. As it aired from 1960 to 1968, it never ranked lower than 7th – and its last season was also its highest rated. (It ranked 1st.) I don’t think too many shows end on a high the way this show did. And when one thinks of the terrible tumult which our nation was experiencing in 1968, it’s maybe no surprise that so many people should find themselves drawn to little ol’ Mayberry to experience the reassuring wisdom of Andy Taylor.
It’s easy to think of “The Andy Griffith Show” as a cross between “Hee Haw” and “Huckleberry Hound”… a bunch of country bumpkins tripping over each other in their tiny, old-fashioned town where not much ever happens. But this program was so much more than “The Hillbilly Hour” – and all you have to do is look at the premiere episode. It’s the episode where we first meet Aunt Bea, who comes to live with Sheriff Taylor (a widower) and his young son Opie after their previous housekeeper, Rose, unexpectedly leaves them to get married. Opie is heartbroken and also very skeptical of the new housekeeper, who can’t do anything like Rose could: play baseball, go fishing, catch frogs, etc. Obviously, young Opie has already been through a lot of loss in his young life, so his father tries to be patient with him while also doing his best to make Aunt Bea seem like a viable replacement for Rose. But it turns out that she doesn’t know what end of the baseball bat to hold and at the first sight of a wriggling fish at the end of her fishing line, she drops the pole in the water and runs away, screaming with horror. And when it appears that Aunt Bea may have accidentally left the cage of Opie’s pet bird open, allowing his pet to fly away, Aunt Bea realizes that Opie is never going to allow him into his heart or life- and with broken heart, she prepares to go back home.
That doesn’t sound like “Hee Haw” or “Huckleberry Hound” to me.
Needless to say, this particular story ends well – with Opie’s last minute change of heart – but until then, this story is laced with lots of pain, and not the kind of pain that comes from pratfalls. It’s a story about deep, emotional wounds – and how our own wounds can easily lead us to inflict wounds on others, in turn. That sounds pretty grim, I suppose- but the emotional depth of the story and these characters is what draws us in so powerfully, and which makes the story linger so vividly.
Of course, there’s a whole lot more to “The Andy Griffith Show” than emotional nuance. At its best, it’s hilariously funny – especially thanks to Barney Fife – and also a very affectionate look at life in small town America once upon a town. (Not that that there has ever been a little town quite like Mayberry, much as we might want it to be so.) But what I love about this show is how there is an emotional richness to many of the episodes. The classic episode where Aunt Bea continues to make pickles, mistakenly believing that her family loves them when in fact they loathe them, is a really interesting exploration of the lengths to which we’ll go to try and spare the feelings of those we love. Same thing with “Barney and the Choir,” where the bumbling deputy turns out to be an excruciatingly awful tenor who is likely to ruin the community choir’s chances in their upcoming competition. But Andy will do whatever he can to see that Barney avoids public humiliation. And many of the episodes where Barney’s bumbling leads them to the brink of disaster end up demonstrating the pitfalls of overeagerness or overconfidence. And there are all kinds of deeply moving episodes in which Sheriff Taylor has to help Opie navigate a tricky situation or keep Aunt Bea from being hurt in a misguided affair of the heart. And once in a great while, even Andy Taylor himself will have to admit to having misunderstood something or somebody, like the time when he got it in his head that Opie should choose between playing football and playing piano because you can only excel when you choose to focus on one thing. And he believes that until the moment when Opie’s football coach plops himself down at the piano and plays some classical piece perfectly, by memory, to reassure Sheriff Taylor that there is nothing wrong with a kid doing both sports and music.
This wasn’t the first comedy to weave various life lessons into the story lines, but predecessors like “Leave it to Beaver” and “Father Knows Best” pretty much limited themselves to children’s lessons. And with them or with shows like “The Waltons” or “Little House on the Prairie” you could practically hear the school bell clanging and a teacher’s voice yelling “class is in session!” with each and every episode, and they all but clobbered you over the head with whatever the lesson for the day happened to be. I like how “The Andy Griffith Show” managed to sneak in those lessons amidst all the hilarity, often with subtlety and even sophistication. . . two words almost never associated with “Hee Haw” or “Huckleberry Hound.” 🙂
Thank you, Professor Taylor. We learned a lot from you. And you made learning so much fun.
pictured above: This is a moment from the first episode of The Andy Griffith Show, “The New Housekeeper.” Opie is telling his dad that he’s planning to run away from home, but of course his dad manages to steer him away from that plan. By the way, no mention of this classic show would be compete without acknowledging Ronny Howard’s wonderful performance as Opie. Has there ever been a more darling young child on television?