The Story Behind the Story

The other day I was thinking about The Andy Griffith Show – as you do. In particular, I was pondering an episode where Ralph, the brother of Otis Campbell, the Mayberry town drunk, is coming to pay a visit. Otis is in a tizzy because he believes his brother to be a success, and he is ashamed that Ralph will see what a failure he is. To help Otis out Andy agrees to let him pose as a Deputy while his brother is in town, much to the antic chagrin of Barney.

All seems to being going well until Ralph comes staggering into the Mayberry jail three sheets to the wind. It turns out that he is the town drunk where he lives, and tops off his evenings, like Otis, by letting himself into the jail to sleep it off. In one of the most ironic moments in sitcom history, Otis lectures his brother on proper decorum. Back slaps occur all around, and a lesson seems to have been learned. Until the next episode.

There are numerous avenues to explore arising out of this 22-minute classic. Consider the concept of a town drunk. It appears that every small North Carolina town has one, but only one. No one else wobbles into the jail after a night on the town, just Otis, and apparently Ralph. You know they aren’t the only drinkers. Are they akin to the proverbial scapegoats, taking the alcoholic sins of the community onto their backs? Is this truly a public service?

Before I could answer these sociological queries, I became consumed with what led Otis and Ralph to this vocation. Why did they feel this need to not only drink copious amounts, but to display their inebriation to the world? Otis certainly could have headed home to pass out. It was rare that Barney and Andy went looking for him. He came to them, as did Ralph.

Having been raised on a shallow understanding of Freud, Bettelheim and Erikson, I naturally assumed that childhood trauma had to be the cause. The fact that they are brothers is instructive. I think it is probable that Ralph and Otis’ father was a drinker as well. Like them, he was a big man and when he was in his cups the fists would fly. Their mother wanted to protect the boys but was ineffectual.

As the brothers grew, they began to imitate the only strong role model they had. They too took to drink. They also realized, whether consciously or not, that the only time their father even noticed them was when he was drunk, so they imbibed in public to get the attention they longed for.

Their drinking led to endless trips to the Sherriff’s office in the dry town where they were raised. Oddly enough, it was only there that someone paid heed to them. Maybe it was not loving care, but it was more than they ever found anywhere else. They had located a haven, and a lifelong pattern had set in.

I realized that you could do this backseat dissection with many sitcom characters. They are perfect for analysis. With few exceptions, they are one-dimensional, letting us avoid the nuances involved in the personalities of real human beings. How many of us know that Otis works as a glue dipper, whatever that is? I didn’t and I have seen every episode countless times. He is one thing and one thing only – the town drunk.

Take Buddy Sorrell, Rob Petrie’s co-writer on the Alan Brady show. His nickname was The Human Joke Machine, but how did he become this person for whom jokes were everything? Undoubtedly, he was picked on as a kid for being both small and Jewish. He didn’t even have a Synagogue community to fall back on (he did not have his bar mitzvah until he was adult). Making people laugh was his defense mechanism. It became more than a way to distract his tormentors, it became an obsession. He had to have a joke for every occasion, just to feel safe. Luckily for him he found a professional outlet for his neuroses. Otherwise, he’d be sitting in a Bronx drunk tank, a Northern Otis, trying to make Deputy Barney O’Flaherty laugh.

Sally Rogers, Buddy and Rob’s office mate, provides additional fodder. Why is her whole life focused on corralling a man and getting married? My guess is that she was doted on by her father when she was little. Her mother, however, was cold and distant. It got worse when her parents divorced and her mother blamed Sally. Ever since Sally has been searching for a substitute father figure. This fixation made her unpopular with other girls at Herbert Hoover High, fueling her lifelong inability to make friends with other women (secretly she hates Laura), as well as her caustic wit. Tragically, this same caustic wit has driven away the object of her obsession – a man to marry.   

As I thought about this, I realized that this could be a new parlor game. Players would be assigned a sitcom character and the one that comes up with the best psychological history wins. Extra points could be awarded for creativity, like opining that Otis’ mother became preoccupied with mah jongg as a way to escape her loveless marriage, further isolating Otis and Ralph. It could be called “Bonkers Backstory Bonanza”.

I think I have a winner here. Finally, a justification for all those years in front of the boob tube. Just so someone doesn’t decide to turn the tables on me and ask why I would watch the same sitcom episode so many times that I can remember it in detail 50 years later. But who would want to do that?   

Let’s Play Nice (Not)

In the wake of Tuesday’s election, I have been getting a lot of messages and poems from proponents of the losing candidate. These messages encourage us to keep our heads up, accept the result, and to look forward to better days. Wonderful sentiments, but, frankly, I am not there and may never be.

My state of mind recalls a scene from one of my favorite movies – Young Frankenstein. The good Doctor has just tried to animate his creation but seems to have failed. He turns to Igor and Inga* and softly says, “Be of good cheer. If science teaches us anything, it teaches us to accept our failures as well as our successes with quiet dignity and grace.” The three look revenantly down for a moment, before Gene Wilder loses it, as only he can, throttling the creature, while screaming “SON OF A BITCH BASTARD. I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” I can relate.

Don’t worry, I am not going to be one of those pathetic people who wring their hands and whine, “I want my country back.” If anything, this election has brought to the fore what my country is and always has been. The moments when the angels of our better nature seemed to shine through were clearly just chimeras masking hate and paranoia.

I cannot be sanguine about this loss. The Republican reaction to their defeat in 2020 is too fresh in my mind. They lost, as the Democrats have here, but instead of accepting it as anyone would who cares about their country more than naked power, they decided to embrace lies that subverted the democratic foundation of our nation – fair elections.

I expected such behavior from He Who I Would Rather Not Name but was sickened by the sight of supposedly patriotic Republicans merrily jumping on that bandwagon. Many initially acknowledged the loss, but once they saw the political advantage of the lies, they quickly swallowed their courage and repeated what they knew to be untrue. In fact, it became a political litmus test for the faithful – country be damned.

All of this led to the abomination of January 6. More than 100 police officers reported injuries, some significant. All in the name of the party that purports to stand for law and order. Apparently, we should be tough on crime so long as those committing those crimes are not our supporters, or our candidate.

It will be interesting to see how this is swept under the carpet by the new administration. Will the Department of Education be kept around long enough to issue an edict that all be taught that the Great Orange One won the 2020 election and that the January 6 rioters where ANTIFA hoodlums pretending to be his minions? Will the 300 some convicted of participating in that riot be pardoned, and given medals for standing up for “Truth”?  

While this was only one lie, and one easily disabused, once it was repeated and repeated by supposedly intelligent people, it set the tone for an entire campaign. If we need to bash immigrants let’s just make up stories about them eating household pets. If we want to paint the current administration as out of touch and uncaring, let’s falsely claim that they ignored the devastation of Hurricane Helene. If any news organization dares to “fact-check”, let’s vilify them as biased and venal.

Yes, it worked. That does not mean that I can sit back and ignore the genesis of this “triumph”. It is not worthy of acquiescence. The “triumph” is one of cynicism and nihilism.

I have no illusions about the history of this country. I do not think that it was created by moral giants. You cannot embrace slavery and claim that designation. Nor do I think that we are the greatest nation on earth, or somehow a manifestation of God’s will.

I do think that no country was founded upon greater ideals than the United States. As flawed as the founders were, their embrace of concepts like equality, free speech, democratic elections and rule of law stand as pillars of what a nation should be, even if they failed to implement them. These ideals may never be reached, but they should be what we strive and fight for.

This nation has seen movements like Black Power, Women’s Liberation and Gay Rights struggle valiantly for recognition of those left behind. These are the most American of movements, seeking to apply the ideals embedded in our Constitution and other originating documents. They are also the ones most at risk with this election result. The leaders of these movements didn’t prevail by taking defeat with quiet grace and dignity. They faced setbacks by screaming “SON OF A BITCH BASTARD. I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS.”   

I am not sure what to do with this anger. I do not see many avenues to channel it positively. I just know that I intend to hold on to it and see where it leads. I know it will color anything done over the next four years, and I am OK with that. The election result may be valid, but that does not mean that I must accept this administration as legitimate.

So, once again, thank you to all who circulated those constructive, forward-looking, reasonable homilies. I know that they were drafted with the best of intentions. Forgive me if I tore them up and flushed them down the proverbial toilet. I am just not through throttling the monster yet, and hopefully never will be.

*RIP to the immortal Teri Garr