television – Gary Bennett Publishing

Holy sexagenarian, Batman — we just turned 60!

By Gary Bennett

This article appears in the January 29, 2026 edition of Frederick News-Post’s “72 Hours” entertainment magazine.

Picture this: Crooks have just pilfered the largest diamond in the world from the Gotham City Museum of Fine Jewelry, leaving stunned watchmen and slips of paper with confounding riddles behind. Solve the riddles and you will find the fiends! Clearly outclassed — alas, there’s really no reason to even try — Police Commissioner Gordon and Chief of Police O’Hara look skyward and grimly activate the bat signal. A powerful beam of light depicting the majestic and unmistakable winged symbol of justice lights up the night sky. It is only a matter of time before the dashing, tricked-out Batmobile is screeching down the highway, depositing Batman and Robin at police HQ for a confab with the overmatched police professionals.

The “Batman” TV series, which ran for 120 episodes between 1966 and 1968, debuted 60 years ago on ABC this month. Nearly every episode began the way I described — an outrageous caper pulled off by an oddball villain, befuddled police, and the caped crusaders, duly notified, speeding to the rescue. It was a twice-weekly series, airing on two consecutive nights — Wednesday and Thursday — at 7:30 pm.

As a kid of the ‘60s, I can tell you there was nothing quite like it. I watched “Batman” in first run but, like Star Trek, reruns kicked in right away so it seemed like it was always on. Today, the original “Batman” series airs on MeTV on Saturdays and the entire 120-episode series is available on DVD at major retailers.

The first episode of the week always left the dynamic duo teetering on the verge of a harrowing death from the hands of an outrageous villain. Episode two featured their miraculous escape and the comeuppance of the villain. That was the formula — every time — and we loved it. Executive producer William Dozier, who doubled as the show’s overly-excited narrator, always implored us to return the next night at the “same bat time, same bat channel.”

“Batman” appealed to kids for the nonstop action, colorful villains and the heroic deeds of the “dynamin duo,” especially the comically stoic Adam West as Batman (“Thank you, citizen.”) It eventually appealed to adults, too, because of its sly humor, scientific basis (the bat cave was filled with technical wonders, including the first computer any of us had ever seen) and the witty, campy presentation. I vividly remember watching “Batman” with my dad, who chuckled at the exaggerated cliches, laid on thick.

It didn’t take long before the show became an unlikely hit and full-blown national phenomenon. Like “Hogan’s Heroes” and several other escapist comedies before it, like “Bewitched,” “I Dream of Jeannie,” “The Munsters” and “The Addams Family,” it came along at just the right time, providing a twice-weekly break for our war-weary and strife-riddled country in the mid ‘60s.

Based on the comic book by Bob Kane and Bill Finger and the old Batman radio show, “Batman” was the first depiction of the “caped crusaders” on screen. It led to an animated series and the ultra-successful “Batman” movie franchise we know today.

“Batman” starred Hollywood veteran Adam West as Batman and 19-year-old Burt Ward as Robin, the Boy Wonder. The regular cast was rounded out by Neil Hamilton as deadpan Commissioner Gordon, Stafford Repp as good-humored Chief O’Hara, and Alan Napier as Alfred, the trusted butler to both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Chief writer Lorenzo Semple won a critic’s choice award for his writing on “Batman,” and the show won several Emmys during its run, mostly for technical achievement.

Adam West was a handsome, adequately-built and believable action hero in the mold of George Reeves as Superman. He played Batman as humble, corny, dead pan and not too self-aware. Later in life, West let on how difficult it was to play Batman that way, but he embraced it. Like many actors indelibly linked to their character, West was type cast as Batman and had difficulty landing other roles. In retirement, he enjoyed hamming it up at conventions and personal appearances for adoring fans. Today, viewers may know him as the voice of Quahog mayor Adam West in Family Guy. West died in 2017 at age 88.

Newcomer Burt Ward brought a pinch of innocence, earnestness and awkwardness to the series as Robin. Many times, Batman had to rescue him from dire circumstances that anyone else could clearly see coming. His excitable and ever-changing catchphrase beginning with “holy” and ending with a description of the predicament they faced (“Holy hot candle wax, Batman!) were on the lips of adolescents everywhere. Ward is now 81 years old and living in Los Angeles.

“Batman” worked well because it didn’t take itself too seriously, staying faithful to its comic book roots. It specialized in highly choreographed fight sequences, complete with sound effects superimposed on the screen (“POW,” “BAM,” “SPLAT,” “CLANK,” “KAPOW”), a pulsating one-word theme song (“na na na na na na na na, Batman!”) and, most ridiculous of all, absurdly intricate death scenes that never quite finished off the caped crusaders.

Naturally, villains could never bring themselves to just shoot Batman and Robin, even when they had the chance. They had to devise over-the-top death sequences befitting their diabolical reputations. Most times, they were not even in attendance for the dirty deed.

My favorite almost-death scene saw the dynamic duo placed into a giant Frosty Freezie machine by the despicable Mr. Freeze, almost turning them into fruity popsicles. Fortunately, Batman realizes the heat exhaust from the machine could melt them out. Using a handy gadget from his utility belt, which the villains always left in place, he was able to turn the exhaust onto Robin and himself for easy melting.

Kids of the ’60 waited with bated breath each week to see which villain would show up. That was a big part of the fun. Hollywood’s biggest names clamored to make a “guest villain” appearance. It got so bad by season three that the caped crusaders had to battle two or three dastardly villains who teamed up to do away with the “caped creeps” once and for all. The list included the big four: a cackling Cesar Romero as Joker, wiry Frank Gorshin as Riddler, waddling and quacking Burgess Meredith (of Rocky fame) as Penguin and sexy Julie Newmar and later Ertha Kitt as Catwoman (Perrrrrrrfect casting!). When any one of those stalwarts turned up, you knew the caped crusaders were really in for it.

Other villains included Milton Berle as Louie the Lilac, Ethel Merman as Lola Lasagne, David Wayne as Mad Hatter, Vincent Price as Egghead, Victor Buono as King Tut, Maurice Evans as Puzzler, Cliff Robertson as Shame (a takeoff on the cowboy character Shane), Dina Merrill as Calamity Jan, Art Carney as Archer and even famed film director Otto Preminger as the mysterious Mr. Freeze.

Near the end of the third season, ratings began to drop as the premise wore off. ABC canceled the show, but NBC agreed to pick it up. But before it could, hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of Batman sets were mistakenly destroyed. Rather than rebuild the sets, NBC dropped the project. It took 20 years, but the bat rose again, this time in the form of an ultra-successful major motion picture starring Michael Keaton as Batman and Jack Nicholson as the Joker. Numerous movies later, it is still going strong.

Gary Bennett is a longtime Frederick resident who spends his time hiking, biking, volunteering and providing childcare for grandchildren. He is married and retired from his career as a nonprofit marketing executive.

‘Hogan’s Heroes’ turns 60

By Gary Bennett

John Banner, Bob Crane and Werner Klemperer star in the 1960’s hit series ‘Hogan’s Heroes.’

This article appears in the September 11, 2025, issue of the Frederick News-Post’s “72 Hours” entertainment magazine.

Imagine this: you’re a network executive and two Hollywood hangers-on come to you with an idea for a television comedy. It will be set in a POW camp in Nazi Germany at the height of World War II. You’d think they were crazy, right? Well, that’s exactly what Bernard Fine and Albert Ruddy did in 1964 when they pitched the idea for “Hogan’s Heroes” to CBS.

The two veteran but largely unknown actor/producer-types reportedly came up with the idea over lunch one day. And despite understandable misgivings from network executives about the humor in such a setting, they green-lit the project anyway. Actors, writers, directors and producers were hired, the pilot was shot, and “Hogan’s Heroes” was off and running. And to everyone’s surprise, it was a hit!

For folks of my generation, you’re probably smiling at the thought of this absurd, unique, but long-forgotten comedy that aired on Friday nights in the tumultuous ‘60s. For you younger folks, I urge you to give it a try. Two back-to-back episodes air every week night at 10 p.m. on Me TV. The entire series is available on DVD from Paramount Home Entertainment, Columbia House and CBS Home Entertainment.

I find it to be a perfectly mindless way to end to a busy day. Just be ready for preposterous story lines, a smug, carefree and debonair leading man and over-the-top comedic acting that make the Germans look like fools. But that’s precisely the point. And somehow, it all works.

In 2025, “Hogan’s Heroes” celebrates its 60th anniversary. Its first airing was Sept. 17, 1965, just 20 years after the end of World War II and at the very height of the Vietnam War. Against all odds, it was a commercial and critical success, running for six seasons (168 episodes) through April 1971 on CBS. It has been in reruns ever since. As a young boy during this time, I can tell you the show was hilarious. Now, as an adult, it seems like an amusing, back-slapping old friend. It is widely regarded as the most unique situation comedy ever produced. The premise was pure genius.

The show centers around a group of cheeky, smart-alecky Allied prisoners of war who use the POW camp as a base of operations for sabotage and espionage directed against Nazi Germany. They make sure the clueless, befuddled commandant of the camp maintains his spotless record of never allowing a successful escape from fictitious Stalag 13 to keep their operation afloat. A savvier leader would surely catch on to all the shenanigans. All the while, the POWs are plotting and carrying out all manner of mayhem in the surrounding countryside via their elaborate labyrinth of tunnels and passages.

Aside from an improbable and unmatched premise, I believe the biggest reason “Hogan’s Heroes” worked so well was pitch-perfect casting.

Bob Crane starred as U.S. Colonel Robert E. Hogan, the handsome mastermind of all manner of espionage and sabotage performed in the ‘underground” surrounding Stalag 13. He used wit, charm and ingenuity to subvert the Germans at every turn. He led an international crew of specialists in explosives, radio operations, gourmet cooking (very handy to butter up the Germans) and safe cracking. Crane was offered the role after appearing in Disney movies and other sitcoms as the clean cut, guy-next-door type. His story book career ended tragically in 1978 at age 50 when he was bludgeoned to death in a hotel room. His murderer was never captured.

Character actor Werner Klemperer co-starred as the vain, obtuse, bald but distinguished-looking Colonel Klink, the commandant of the camp, to comical perfection. So much so that he was nominated for outstanding supporting actor in a comedy series five times in the six years the show aired. He won twice in ’68 and ’69. Klink is completely unaware of Hogan’s operation and is unfailingly proud of his no escape record as he unceasingly reminds his befuddled superiors. In real life Klemperer was Jewish and only agreed to take the role after receiving assurances Klink would always play the fool. Klemperer remarked one time, “I had one qualification when I took the job: if they ever wrote a segment where Klink came out the hero, I would leave the show.” He never left the show.

John Banner co-starred as the gullible but affable Seargent-of-the-Guard Schultz (or “Schultzie,” as the prisoners called him), Klink’s right-hand man. He is rotund, clumsy and inept but has a heart of gold as we see in many episodes. He is quoted in one show as saying “I don’t like to take sides in war.” He is easily bribed with chocolates and gourmet cooking and has a penchant for talking too much. He exited many scenes by uttering his catch phrase, “I know (hear, see) nothing!” That phrase was on the lips of many people (not just kids) in the ‘60s who didn’t want to get involved in something nefarious. Like Klemperer, Banner was born to Jewish parents who fled Nazi Germany. He later served in the U.S. Army as a sergeant in World War II.

Despite a camp full of POWs, only four ever had speaking roles and comprised Colonel Hogan’s inner circle and saboteurs-in-arms.

Robert Clary played diminutive French Corporal Louis LeBeau, know as “cockroach” to Klink and Schultz. He was a gourmet chef, always able to delight the Germans with his cooking prowess, much to their detriment. Amazingly, Clary in real life was also Jewish and escaped three years in a German concentration camp in his teens by using his singing and dancing skills to survive. His parents and other family members were killed. He delighted in the show and the way it made the Germans look so foolish.

Richard Dawson played British Royal Air Force Corporal Peter Newkirk. His penchant for conning other people along with his ability to crack a safe, pick a lock or pocket, cheat at cards and forge documents made him a valuable compatriot. His best skill, however, was his fearsome German accent that he used to great effect to threaten Klink and other Germans on the phone or radio with a “transfer to the Russian front.” Dawson went on to be a game show Hall of Famer, first as the go-to panelist on Match Game and then as the first host of Family Feud.

Larry Hovis played explosives expert U.S. Technical Sergeant Andrew J. Carter. Smart, clumsy and affable, he played the absent-minded professor role to perfection. He delighted in blowing up any manner of German trains, planes, bridges, and munitions. His menacing, rapid-fire German accent and uncanny resemblance to Hitler proved invaluable in many episodes.

Ivan Dixon played U.S. Staff Sergeant James “Kinch” Kinchloe, the man responsible for radio communication. One running gag featured a radio antenna rising matter-of-factly from a German flagpole, but no one ever noticing. Dixon was African-American and casting him in this role was a major step forward for a television show in the mid-1960s. In fact, “Hogan’s Heroes” was honored with the NAACP Award in 1967 as a “TV program that improved the presentation of Negroes.” In real life Dixon was a Korean War flying ace and record setting test pilot. Dixon went on to become a hugely sought-after director in Hollywood.

The two actors who played the recurring roles of Klink’s superior officer and the perpetually irritated and suspicious Gestapo officer were also Jewish and extraordinary in their roles.

Character actor Leon Askin played fat, battle-scarred General Burkhalter to exasperating perfection. He knew Klink was a fool but knew to leave well enough alone. Even though he was played with savvy and intelligence, Burkhalter never caught on to Hogan’s escapades either.

Howard Caine as Gestapo Major Hochstetter was comedy gold. When Hogan would show up unexpectedly at a place he shouldn’t, Hochstetter would snarl “What is this man doing here?” He was constantly suspicious of all the sabotage swirling around Stalag 13 and knew that Klink was a fool but was never able to catch Hogan in the act.

Besides the five nominations and two Emmy wins for Klemperer as Colonel Klink, “Hogan’s Heroes” received seven other Emmy nominations including a total of five in the two most prestigious categories: best comedy series and best lead actor in a comedy series for Bob Crane. Most critics agree that the third star of the show, John Banner as Sgt. Schultz, should have been nominated, too, but was overshadowed by Klemperer. “Hogan’s Heroes” finished its six-year run as the number nine rated TV show in the land. Not bad for a hare-brained comedy premise.

In appreciation: 50 years of Barney Miller

By Gary Bennett

This article appears in the April 3, 2025, issue of Frederick News-Post’s “72 Hours” entertainment insert.

Before there was Barney the dinosaur, there was Barney Miller. (Of course, before that came the undisputed Barney champion of all time, Barney Fife.)

Being the second or third best of anything is not too bad, but the case can be made that “Barney Miller”, a smartly written police comedy from the 1970s and ’80s, was one of the best TV shows ever.

TV Guide sure thinks so. In 2013, it ranked “Barney Miller” No. 46 on its list of the top 60 TV shows of all time. That may not sound like much, but consider that by 2013, over 10,000 TV shows had aired on broadcast or cable TV since the 1940s.

“Barney Miller” premiered on ABC on Tuesday evening, Jan. 23, 1975. It stayed there for eight years, often preceded by another big ABC hit, “Happy Days.” The titular character of the show, Captain “Barney Miller,” was played superbly by handsome, 40-something, ‘70s ‘stache-sporting Broadway actor Hal Linden. He professionally and calmly led a motley bunch of police detectives in the “old one-two” — the 12th Police Precinct in New York City.

The show was created by Danny Arnold and Theodore J. Flicker. Noam Pitlik directed most episodes. “Barney Miller” was never canceled. The producers voluntarily ended production on May 20, 1982, fearing they may begin to repeat story lines. It was never what you might call a smash hit. It was more like comfortable sweatpants you looked forward to slipping on once each week.

The entire series is available for purchase on DVD, and you can even catch two episodes every week night at 9 p.m. on Antenna TV.

“Barney Miller” takes place almost entirely within the confines of the detectives’ squad room and Captain Barney Miller’s adjoining office. Most of the police action happens off-screen. This was the same strategy employed by contemporary sitcom “All in the Family” that took place almost completely within the Bunker’s Queens living room.

The familiar old precinct setting, complete with clutter and grime that seemed immovable over the years, allowed viewers to focus completely on the interplay of the characters — both the starring detectives and guest starring complainants and suspects — to superb effect.

A typical episode featured the detectives of the 12th Precinct bringing in several oddball complainants or suspects to the squad room. Usually, there were two or three separate subplots in each episode, with different officers dealing with different crimes and suspects. Many of the laughs came from the seen-it-all detectives and their handling of the weirdo interlopers.

Captain Miller (Linden) tries to remain sane while leading the 12th Precinct’s detectives. And what a crew they were. This was one of television’s first great ensemble casts.

The cast was led by crotchety, world-weary, Jewish-American Philip K. Fish (played by Abe Vigoda of “The Godfather” fame); naive, excitable but goodhearted Polish-American Stanley “Wojo” Wojciehowicz (played by Max Gail); ambitious, intellectual and slightly arrogant African-American Ron Harris (played by Ron Glass); wisecracking, gambling, poor coffee-making Japanese-American Nick Yemana (played by Jack Soo); and beleaguered Puerto Rican Chano Amanguale (played by Gregory Sierra).

Miller also had to deal with his winking, glad-handing, past his prime, unapologetically old-school superior, Inspector Frank Luger (played wonderfully by character actor James Gregory), and diminutive and toadying uniformed officer Carl Levitt (played by Ron Carey), who constantly badgers Miller about being promoted to detective. Chano and Fish were replaced by intellectual Arthur Dietrich (played by deadpan comedian Steve Landesberg) in season three.

Some typical conflicts and long-running plot lines included Miller’s constant efforts to maintain peace, order and discipline; Harris’ preoccupation with outside interests, especially his novel that he wrote while on the job (“Blood on the Badge”); Fish’s age-related incontinence issues and reluctance to retire; Wojo’s impulsive behavior; Luger’s nostalgia for the old days; Levitt’s eventually successful quest to become a detective; the rivalry between the precinct’s intellectuals, Harris and Dietrich; and reliably bad coffee made by Yemana.

Like many sitcoms, “Barney Miller” took a while to get established and find its bearings. The first season focused much of the time on Barney’s private life at home with wife Liz (played by Barbara Barrie). The show runners soon realized the laughs came from within the precinct and wrote Liz out of the show. Rarely after that did we get a glimpse into any of the detectives’ private lives.

One of my favorite episodes, “Hash,” explored what would happen if the detectives unknowingly ate brownies laced with hashish while on the job. A great line from that episode was delivered when the still sober Captain Miller asked Harris where nearly retired and slow-moving Fish was. Harris slurred, “Last time I saw him, Barn, he was jumping between buildings running down a perp.”

Another favorite was the fifth-season finale “Jack Soo: A Retrospective,” which paid tribute to the late comic actor who was felled by cancer earlier that year. In this episode, the cast, led by Linden, appeared as themselves in the 12th Precinct office as they fondly shared stories and remembrances of their dear friend. At the end of the episode, the cast raised their coffee cups in loving memory of Soo.

Decades after it left the air, “Barney Miller” retains a devoted following including real-life police officers, who appreciate the show’s emphasis on dialogue, believably quirky characters, and its low-key portrayal of cops going about their sometimes-mundane jobs. “Barney Miller” is very possibly the most realistic cop show TV has ever seen.

Inexplicably, none of the actors ever won an Emmy Award (there were many nominations for Linden, Glass and Landesberg), but the show itself was honored many times with writing and directing awards. In its final season of 1982, “Barney Miller” finally won the Emmy for best comedy series after six previous nominations.

Linden (94) and Gail (82) are still alive and fondly remember their time on the show. Linden has told interviewers that he is still occasionally called “Captain” by respectful, working police officers. It’s difficult to imagine anyone else in that role now, but Linden let on recently that only a scheduling conflict prevented Daren McGavin from taking the role.

To this day, “Barney Miller” remains an influential TV show, noted for its ability to tackle tough, timely issues in a lighthearted way.

Live from New York, it’s 50 years!

By Gary Bennett

Saturday Night Night Main Stage, Rockefeller Center, New York

This article appears in the Fredrick News-Post’s February 6, 2025, “72 Hours” entertainment insert.

It’s difficult to overstate the cultural significance of Saturday Night Live. It may not seem so today, but the show literally changed the way young people approached Saturday nights in the 1970s.

Saturday Night Live will celebrate its 50th anniversary in 2025 with a three-hour prime time special on NBC on Feb. 16. As of this writing, a host has not been named, but one thing is certain, the show will be chock full of hilarious clips from its 50-year reign.

Much about Saturday Night Live, especially the early years, has passed into legend. But when the show hit the airwaves in October 1975, no one knew what to expect. A young writer named Lorne Michaels talked NBC executives into taking a chance on a live, late-night, weekend comedy show. This had not been tried before.

He wanted nothing less than to redefine comedy the way the Beatles, 10 years earlier, had redefined pop music. “That required not pandering, and it also required removing neediness, the need to please,” Michaels says in the book “Live from New York” by Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller. “We were only going to please those people who are like us, and that’s what we did.”

The show aired at 11:30 on Saturday night. If you were a college student at that time, like I was, 11:30 was prime time for parties, drinking, dancing and blowing off steam. Many of us didn’t even head out until that time. Once word got around that you had to see this new show, it didn’t take long for us to adjust our loose schedules accordingly. NBC banked that we would do both — stay in to watch the show but still go out before, after or both — and we did.

A little known fact is that Johnny Carson is largely responsible for the airing of Saturday Night Live. Carson ruled late-night TV during the week. By 1975, he had had enough of NBC airing his reruns on Saturday night; he wanted to use the reruns himself during the week so he could take more time off. NBC had the option of returning this weekend time to the local affiliates, and thereby giving up a chunk of ad revenue, or trying to fill the time with other programming.

It was no surprise when word went out from NBC executives to develop a late-night weekend show. Had the powerful Carson never made this demand, it’s quite possible there would never have been a Saturday Night Live. After all, Carson did not retire until 1992.

The man NBC took a chance on, 30-year-old Lorne Michaels, gave them much more than I’m sure they bargained for: an adventurous, topical, satire series with a live studio audience that, had executives and advertisers known of its content in advance, might never have seen the light of day.

Michaels wanted the show to be the first one in the history of television to talk the same language being talked on college campuses, streets and everywhere else young people gathered. In this, he succeeded wildly.

The show was originally called NBC’s Saturday Night. It was the first show the television generation — baby boomers, as we are now called — could call their own. It was unlike anything else on the air, and it would be years before rivals even tried to imitate it. It was new, unusual, surprising and boy, did it make us laugh. It had the proverbial inmates running the asylum, and it showed.

The show made stars of unknowns and superstars of stars. The brash young players that comprised the Not Ready for Prime Time Players in those first few seasons are now household names. Belushi, Chase, Aykroyd, Radner, Murray, Murphy, Piscopo and more delighted in trashing TV taboos.

Many of these would-be stars wanted no part of TV but took on the gig anyway because they could look down on even the most successful prime-time show — because their show was different. It was one of a kind. It made fun of television. John Belushi made his feelings about television known at the time by famously saying, “My television has spit all over it.”

And who in the boomer generation can forget the Coneheads, Mad Samurai, Nick the Lounge Singer, Fred Garvin (Male Prostitute), the Wild and Crazy Guys, Killer Bees, Blues Brothers, Roseanne Roseannadanna, Wayne and Garth, Mr. Bill, Fernando, Hans and Franz, Lisa Loopner and Todd, The Church Lady, Pete Schweddy and the Greek deli owner selling “chee-burger, chee-burger, and Petsie.”

The very first show featured a “cold opening” that portended of things to come. Belushi appeared as a semi-literate immigrant dutifully keeling over with a heart attack because his English teacher suddenly dies of one. With that, Chevy Chase, as stage manager with clipboard in hand, looks in at the dead bodies and flashes that fake Hollywood smile and says, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” Then cue the saxophone-infused music. Those words from Chase, the music and the accompanying scenes from New York’s shady underbelly had an exciting feel to them. We were hooked.

Another instant hit from the early shows was Chase as the bumbling but cooler-than-you newscaster for Weekend Update, an absurdist view of the goings-on in Washington and around the country. The segment was so topical and up-to-date that writers tell stories of being under Chase’s desk live on air handing notes up to him.

His goofy but sincere opening line of the newscast — “Good evening. I’m Chevy Chase and you’re not” — became a national catchphrase that even President Ford used. Because of this segment and the stage manager schtick when opening the show, Chase became the first breakout star, leaving after only one season to act in movies.

He was replaced by none other than Bill Murray in season two. The show barely skipped a beat. In short order, Belushi and Dan Aykroyd became major stars, too.

Feuds, fights and romances among staff members were in the paper seemingly every week. Boozy after-parties were legendary. Sex and drugs were rampant backstage. Network executives tended to steer clear of the 17th floor, where the show was written and performed, not wishing to be enmeshed in marijuana smoke and other strange aromas that would be hard to explain. Better to not know.

By the beginning of the second season, Saturday Night Live was the talk of television, a national phenomenon.

Even the performers who joined the cast later are legendary in their own right: Eddie Murphy, Billy Crystal, Martin Short, Phil Hartman, Chris Farley, Mike Meyers, Dana Carvey, Chris Rock, Darrell Hammond, Will Ferrell, Adam Sandler, Jimmy Fallon, Tina Fey, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, Jon Lovitz, Dennis Miller, Kevin Nealon, Tracy Morgan, Amy Poehler … the list goes on and on. Big stars like Hanks, Martin, Baldwin and Timberlake fell all over themselves wanting to host.

For better or worse, Saturday Night Live lives on as a testament to what you can accomplish if you really believe in something — and “don’t give a flying f— if it fails,” as Chase put it in 1975, when a reporter asked him how the show succeeded.