There’s Something About “Mary”, Part Four

Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

Last time, I asked a simple question: Why is it that Mary attracts so much negative comment today, with people falling over themselves to slag it off, when I’ve rather enjoyed what I’ve seen of it so far? Do I simply have terrible taste in television?

That is a distinct possibility. But I also think there’s a few deeper things going on here.

Vince Keenan, in this piece about Mary, makes a very good point about modern attitudes towards the show. He correctly notes that recent documentary Being Mary Tyler Moore does not cover Mary.. and also that it was far from a surprise that it goes absolutely nowhere near it. Why?

“…because the Mary/The Mary Tyler Moore Hour debacle is perceived not only as a failure, but the wrong kind of failure. One seen as a dead end. But every show business narrative needs the right kind of failure, an early misstep that opens doors and creates second acts.”

He goes on to suggest that the “right” kind of failure with Mary Tyler Moore was her disastrous 1966 stage musical Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and her subsequent middling films, which ended up leading to her renaissance on television. I think Vince is exactly right that this is why Being Mary Tyler Moore didn’t cover Mary: because it essentially lead to nothing, at least when it came to Mary herself.

But I think we can take this a step further. Because Mary is the “wrong” kind of failure, it also means that people find the show difficult to judge on its own merits. Something that was pulled after three weeks because it didn’t get the ratings is just “obviously” a poor show. The juggernaut of received opinion rolls on, the narrative takes over, and before you know it, nobody’s really analysing the show properly, they’re just trading insults about it.

Vince himself doesn’t seem immune to this: in a paragraph explaining why he thinks the show is bad, he simply states “Moore opens with Loudon Wainwright III’s ‘Dead Skunk.'”¹ As though this is a self-evidently terrible thing, with no justification needed. Now I personally think the segment is hilarious, but that’s a judgement call; what I find interesting is that multiple people who have looked back at Mary just don’t seem to understand the gag. For the avoidance of doubt: America’s Sweetheart™ opened a show by singing about a dead skunk, instead of about something nice. The inappropriateness was the joke.

All this already seems to have put up a barrier when it comes to how to interpreting Mary. But it’s compounded by something else: numerous people who worked on the show have often had negative things to say about it. Vince quotes Swoozie Kurtz calling Mary’s dancing “bossa-nova-meets-yeast-infection”, which is extremely amusing, albeit unfair. But the most obvious and famous criticism comes from Michael Keaton and David Letterman, and particularly with Letterman’s agony at doing the dance numbers.

Vince goes on to mention the following segment from Letterman which aired on the 28th April 2015, featuring Keaton as guest.

The thumbnail even calls it “Michael Keaton & Dave’s Cringe TV Moment”. Over 40 years on, Letterman was still cringing.

LETTERMAN: Every Wednesday, the choreographer would come in, and teach us – Michael and myself, and the rest of the cast – how to dance in the big number. And it was the worst day of my life for an entire summer. Wednesday it would be, we would all go up to the big rehearsal room, and we’d learn the big…”

At this point, Letterman does a very amusing mime which vaguely approximates jazz hands.

Now, at 18:49 in the above video, a section of the big dance number from the first episode of Mary is included, with the gang doing “With A Little Luck”. For what it’s worth I don’t mind it, and certainly don’t see it as some kind of nadir of television – but Letterman really does look uncomfortable, and I think that uncomfortableness is genuine, not staged.² It’s all perfect fodder for a late night chat show, of course.

But I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing you should judge too much of your critical opinion of Mary around. Letterman’s dancing here was clearly a mistake, but it’s only one small element of the whole show.³ Letterman looking like a bit of an idiot really is overrepresented in the analysis of Mary. And people will simply listen to what people like Letterman or Keaton have to say, without always applying their critical judgement across the show as a whole.

I’ll stick my neck out here: I think Letterman and Keaton – and indeed Swoozie Kurtz – are biased, because the show was ultimately a failure, and that is a professional embarrassment for them. It’s difficult to have good memories about a programme which was meant to be on for at least 22 shows, and only managed three, whatever the reasons for that actually were. Far easier to just poke fun at Letterman looking silly, than to think carefully about the wider issues surrounding the show.

All these barriers to understanding add up. Along with all the above, we have the problem which I’ve already endlessly talked about in the previous three parts: this is a programme where it’s very difficult to judge what actually transmitted in the first place. I shouldn’t be surprised that people aren’t willing or able to give Mary a fair shake.

What would really be helpful is if I could watch the first episode of the show, exactly as transmitted, and judge the damn thing on its own merits.

*   *   *

“So: variety. OK, let’s give it a try.”

— Mary Tyler Moore, Mary, NBC TX: 24th September 1978

I have a copy of Mary‘s first episode.

It hasn’t escaped from an archive. This is the show as recorded off-air on the 24th September 1978. We even know from which station, as an FCC-mandated ident appears near the end of the programme: WITI TV6 Milwaukee. However, the episode hasn’t been made available online; I had to order this rather unofficial DVD. I don’t usually hand over money for that kind of thing, but this seemed the only opportunity to properly judge what viewers actually saw when the series premiered.⁴ After all my whinging, the least I could offer you all is that.

And here was where I expected to have to grit my teeth a bit, and admit that the first edition of Mary had a million and one problems, and that while some of the research on the show over the years may have been a bit dodgy, the general attitude towards the show wasn’t entirely misguided.

The problem is: I loved it. I really really loved it. What can you do? I really tried to make this look like a measured, sensible, reasonable piece which took in all viewpoints. Oh well.

One thing immediately becomes clear about Mary when you watch the first episode proper: how self-reflexive it is, about Mary the person, Mary the TV show, and indeed about television as a whole. This is something which has been all-but ignored by current cultural commentators, but it really is a major part of the show.⁵

I can’t put endless clips of this first episode online, but I will allow myself one. And I’m going to choose by far my favourite sketch. A parody of things like ABC’s Silver Anniversary Celebration, which aired a few months earlier, this feels like an incredibly modern sketch for 1978.

May I present: 25 Minutes of Mary.

I absolutely love all of the above, but when you get to the point where we’re seeing wobbly black-and-white kinescope⁶ clips of things that aired just five minutes previously, it seems to me to be easily on a par with the kind of tearing apart of television in something like the much-respected The Day Today.

This self-reflexive quality is all over the first episode of Mary. The Ed Asner Dancers – a load of balding fat middle-aged men doing a dance routine – are an obvious joke about The Mary Tyler Moore Show. The cast are introduced by (fake) audition tapes, and Judy Kahan portrays herself as a fangirl of Mary… and proceeds to do all Mary’s old catchphrases.⁷ Even the “Diva Recording Studio” quickie is about showbiz, where the whole joke is that we think Mary is a singer doing a professional album recording session… before, arms outstretched, we get: “At the tone, the time will be 11:42.”

This kind of stuff is like catnip to me, and is a huge part of why I enjoy Mary so much. There’s just one moment where the self-reflexive nature of the show stabs me in the heart. When Mary introduces her cast, and they all bound on-stage one by one, she announces:

MARY: OK, there they are – the 1978-79 Mary cast.

A line which very deliberately echoes a press release… and also reminds us that the gang never got to 1979. They didn’t even nearly get to 1979. It makes me sad.

*   *   *

In this piece, I’ve tried to figure out why people these days don’t give Mary much of a chance. I think I’ve managed a few good suggestions. But let’s be honest: one reason I love the show so much is because I really want to buy what this damn show is selling.

I found the following comment from Gena on Tune in Tonight striking:

“Mary runs into the same problem that every variety show, particularly those made in the late 70s, ran into, in that there was no clear audience for a show that references both Saturday Night Fever and a song that was written in 1900.”

Regardless of audiences in 1978, I raise my hand meekly and say: I’m very, very interested in any show which does this. I love TV which has a huge range of references and inspirations, rather than stuff tailored to a specific, narrow audience. It’s one of my very favourite things. It’s why I love variety shows as a whole, and why I particularly love Mary. Because while there’s an ongoing thread of the self-reflexive material which links the show together, it’s a programme which feels like it’s interested in many different kind of entertainment, from many different eras.

In other words: the oft-mentioned combination of old-school variety and Saturday Night Live edgy material? It’s a feature, not a bug.

I do feel Mary was done the dirty on back in 1978. It should simply have been rescheduled in a less competitive slot, as far away from Battlestar Galactica as possible, rather than pulled entirely. Of course, it’s unwise to get too exercised about it; The Mary Tyler Moore Show had a last-minute change to a better slot, after it was originally scheduled in a way which almost guaranteed failure. 70s US network TV was what it was, and touchy-feely it most certainly was not. Some you win, some you lose.

But the show really deserves the chance to be reappraised. Not only did poor Mary fail, but it’s essentially become a punchline, for late night chat shows and YouTube video essays alike. While writing these articles, I’ve ended up feeling ludicrously protective of the show. A show which has endless assumptions levelled at it, and very little true critical analysis.

It would be incredible if what remains of the show could be scraped together, and released somehow. But then, what is the archive status of Mary? Eleven episodes were made; only three were broadcast. That makes the prospect difficult enough before you even start, let alone when you consider how the multiple changes of ownership of MTM Enterprises over the years may have caused problems.

In an ideal world, somebody has a shelf somewhere with eleven tapes – or a metaphorical shelf containing eleven video files – representing every single episode made of Mary. In the real world, it’s highly likely most of those episodes never even finished post-production. Frankly, in the real world, I don’t think there’s even a guarantee the three transmitted episodes survive in broadcast quality form.⁸ Whatever the holdings of Mary turn out to be, they are likely to be a mess. Part of me fantasises about somebody doing a boutique physical media release. But in 2026, that feels pie in the sky, even with some of the utter nonsense which gets released these days.

And yet there’s another model we could turn to. Take the famous case of Turn-On, the genuinely bizarre and unnerving 1969 ABC sketch comedy which was supposed to be at least a 13 week run, but was pulled after a single episode. For years, the show was mainly seen as a complete failure, and only short clips were generally available.

That all changed one day, when somebody just… uploaded the complete first episode to YouTube. That upload is gone these days, replaced with an upload made with the involvement of Turn-On producer George Schlatter. If you haven’t seen it, it’s well worth setting aside half an hour of your time to watch it.⁹

And what happened, once Turn-On became more widely-available, in decent quality? Not everyone loved it overnight, sure, but those uploads helped change how many people looked at the show. From “a complete disaster” to “wait, there’s something here”. The parallels between Turn-On and Mary are, I hope, obvious. And if Mary isn’t quite as odd to watch as Turn-On, it’s worth remembering that The Palm Beach Post, shortly after Mary was cancelled, called the show “avant garde variety”.

Rather than unofficial, unbroadcast, unfinished edits of Mary, in fairly bad quality, material from the show could be presented in a way which helped people understand what the show was at least trying to do. And in my opinion at least, mainly succeeding.

*   *   *

The final sketch in the first episode of Mary is set in a place called Fairfax Alley. Befitting the self-reflexive nature of the show, it’s where all the cast – playing themselves – congregate in a grotty little dive¹⁰, and reflect on the programme that week. As everybody slowly arrives, it becomes clear that they have all already decided that David Letterman is a complete tosser.

When Mary arrives, it becomes clear that Letterman has pimped her out to sing at this godforsaken place, in exchange for free champagne. So after an abortive attempt at “Misty”, Mary launches into a beautiful rendition of “We’ve Only Just Begun”.

Which, of course, they had. And three weeks later, at least in terms what the great American viewing public saw, that’s where things finished, too. Of course, Mary came back with The Mary Tyler Moore Hour in March the following year, and which – spoiler – actually included some material which went unused in Mary. But as far as Mary itself was concerned, they were done.

An undeserved, ignominious death, for a show which was loads of fun, and arguably ahead of its time. In different circumstances, it might even be fondly remembered. And if my fantasies about DVD releases or proper YouTube uploads never actually happen… well consider these four articles a first stab at a rehabilitation, at least.

With thanks to Tanya Jones for extensive editorial advice over all four articles. Thanks also to Rod Begbie and Leah Biel.

1. Vince doesn’t identify this show as unaired, but he does correctly state that it’s an incomplete edit, which is more than many people bother to do. ↩

2. Keaton, as the Letterman interview acknowledges, pulls the dancing off entirely, to his immense credit. ↩

3. It’s perhaps worth remembering that of the other two unbroadcast episodes we have, there is no sign at all of Letterman dancing. I highly suspect that at some point, the show self-corrected itself on this one. ↩

4. The DVD is missing a small section of Mary’s monologue at the start, which is a shame. Newspaper reports from the time state that this part involved Mary looking embarrassed at the huge sign behind her, and asking “When you go to work every morning, do you have a 50-foot sign that says “Herb”? ↩

5. MTM: Quality Television (BFI Publishing, 1984), is one of the few works which really analyses the self-reflexive nature of Mary in-depth. You can read a copy online for free here, which I doubt is really depriving anybody of income at this point. ↩

6. “Telerecording” is the British terminology, but “kinescope” feels correct when talking about a US show. ↩

7. “Sure, Georgette.” / “Oh, Mr Grant!” / “Come on, Ted!” / “Congratulations, Murray!” “Hi, Sue Ann.” ↩

8. As yet one more example of how all this would be difficult to disentangle: the Paley Center claims to have the final transmitted episode… but gives the TX date of the 15th October 1978. The final episode actually aired on the 8th; that 15th episode is probably the material we dissected back in Part 3. There is plenty of research left to do here, but it’s difficult for me to do it, as I live in the UK. ↩

9. You can also see the never-broadcast second episode, and a newly-created third episode, made from unused footage. ↩

10. The tables are bolted to the floor. ↩

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