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                                                                                U.S. POLITICS, Page 33

Where Fathers and Mothers Know Best


Despite Quayle's complaint, television is filled with families
who may have faults but at least stick together

By RICHARD ZOGLIN


    "I'm surprised, in the first place, that Quayle watches
Murphy Brown," Johnny Carson cracked last week, just a couple
of monologues before his last appearance as host of the Tonight
show. "Isn't that opposite F Troop on cable?"

    Forgive the easy Dan Quayle joke. (Was there ever a better
week for easy Dan Quayle jokes?) Carson hinted at something
important: there's a lot more on TV than Murphy Brown. If the
Vice President is correct in suggesting that the behavior of
prime-time characters can affect the behavior of real-life
people, then the issue is not just Murphy Brown. It is the value
system conveyed across the spectrum of what TV has to offer. And
the fact is that, far from tearing down the family, prime-time
TV these days is boosting family values more aggressively than
it has in decades.

    In the 1950s and '60s, TV broods were happy, homogeneous,
parent-dominated units, unburdened by any problems that couldn't
be solved by a heart-to-heart with Dad at the end of the
episode. The era of Father Knows Best and Leave It to Beaver
began to fade during the '60s, but it didn't really end until
1971, when All in the Family presented a more realistic,
unsentimental picture of family life than TV ever had before.
That ground-breaking series gave rise to a string of
untraditional TV families, from Maude (who defied the
conventions of TV momdom by having an abortion) and One Day at
a Time (a single mother, her two teenage daughters and lots of
talk about sex) to such '80s sitcoms as Kate & Allie and My Two
Dads.

    The huge success of The Cosby Show, which debuted in 1984,
rejuvenated TV's interest in the traditional two-parent family.
Today relatively stable, two-parent families make up the
overwhelming majority on TV: nostalgic ones (The Wonder Years,
Brooklyn Bridge), contemporary ones (Home Improvement, Major
Dad), farcically expanded ones (Step by Step) and lovingly
close-knit ones (Life Goes On). Even hip, teen-dominated shows
like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Beverly Hills, 90210 have,
at their center, strong families. The comparatively few single
parents on TV nearly always have other caring adults around the
house -- a trio of fathers in Full House, a compassionate black
housekeeper in I'll Fly Away -- to reinforce the pro-family
message.

    Yet the past few years have also seen the emergence of a
new sort of TV family: the grungy, dysfunctional clans of
Married with Children, The Simpsons and (to a lesser degree)
Roseanne. All have, at one time or another, been attacked by the
family-values police. Married with Children was the chief target
of Michigan housewife Terry Rakolta's 1989 campaign to clean up
television. Roseanne Arnold has drawn fire for her crude
behavior both on and off camera. President Bush told a group of
religious broadcasters in January, "We need a nation closer to
The Waltons than The Simpsons."

    But what are these shows really attacking -- the family,
or simply TV's sentimentalized portrayal of it? For all the
Bundys' biting sarcasm and Roseanne's mordant wisecracks, the
one thing that is never questioned is the sanctity of the
family. Roseanne's rebellious kids have something most of their
real-life counterparts do not: two wise, empathetic, firmly
in-control parents. Even the crass Bundys -- TV's broadest
caricature of a "bad" family -- have a stubborn, low-down sense
of togetherness.

    The Simpsons too, despite its "eat my shorts" irreverence,
presents a cohesive family that could almost be a role model,
even if its constituent parts are not. Homer may be an
incompetent father and breadwinner (stuck home alone to take
care of baby Maggie, he manages to lose the kid), but his heart
is in the right place (he feels terrible about it). When Homer
loses his job at the nuclear power plant, Marge tells the kids
they will have to pitch in to help save money. Bart volunteers
to skip baths and read his comic books in the store rather than
buy them. Talk about family spirit.

    Nor has TV embraced such perceived threats to traditional
family values as teenage sex and homosexuality. Doogie Howser
lost his virginity last fall, but only after so much sensitive
deliberating that it seemed virtually a religious act. Brenda
slept with her boyfriend Dylan on Beverly Hills, 90210 but
regretted it almost immediately. Roseanne's boss at the
restaurant is gay, and C.J. (Amanda Donohoe) on L.A. Law is
bisexual. But homosexual couples are kept almost entirely out
of sight on series TV.

    So are unwed mothers, though Murphy Brown had at least one
important precursor. Molly Dodd, the neurotic single New Yorker
played by Blair Brown in The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd,
found herself pregnant two years ago, and the suspense revolved
around which boyfriend was the father: the white bookstore owner
or the black policeman (the law carried the day). Yet the
revelation caused little stir: the show was tucked away on
cable, and went off the air shortly thereafter. It took a Top
10 network series that will undoubtedly be around for years to
grab the Vice President's attention. Now he needs to do some
channel switching.