Norman Lear

He produced and wrote some of the top comedy shows on television, but displayed his talents for writing far earlier.

The Hartford Courant writing on June 21, 1940 about the senior class exercises as Weaver High School, noted “The class history, prophecy, and will were combined in the form of a play, written by Norman Lear.” He also acted in it.

Lear was making headlines in high school long before All in the Family. His name appeared in the same paper on September 28, 1939: “See our coming vaudeville team, Adrian Greenberg and Norman Lear, who had photos taken with the Ritz Brothers when the latter were here.”

And, as you can see to the right, he placed second in the Connecticut Department of the American Legion’s National High School Oratorical Contest. For his effort, the 17-year old “son of Mr. and Mrs. Herman K. Lear of 68 Woodstock Street, Hartford...was awarded a check for $50, the combined prize of the Connecticut State Bar Association and the American Legion, Department of Connecticut” (Courant, Mar. 31, 1940).

Lear got his big break after the war. He had been with the Players Guild of Hartford, and had left for Los Angeles on May 4, 1949. Zuma Palmer of The Hollywood Citizen-Express of Aug. 18, 1952 reported on its Radio-Television page:

Ed Simmons and Norman Lear, writers of the Jerry Lewis, Dean Martin television and radio shows, night club sketches and now their screen plays, met through their wives.
Mrs. Lear and Mrs. Simmons became acquainted at a gymnasium where they went to take off a few pounds. They liked each other, thought their husbands would be congenial and so planned an evening together. Before it was over, the men folk discovered they had the same ambition—to write.
Lear, 30, had come from Hartford, Conn. He served three years in the Army Air Corps, one year overseas, as radio operator and gunner on a Flying Fortress. He tried theatrical publicity after the war because, as a boy, he had heard with keen interest his uncle tell of the people he met in that business.
The manufacture of metal specialties was Lear's next interest. One, a cigaret holder for a saucer, was a successful project. As others have done, he didn't stop when doing well but branched out to such an extent he lost his money. Lear moved to California, which he had wanted to do immediately after the war but his family persuaded him to stay home awhile.

Tom Danson wrote for several papers in the Los Angeles area. His column of May 5, 1952 included a profile of the pair, part of which read:

Any time I mention Martin and Lewis to the average television or radio fan I invariably get one question, “How do think up those things?" I have the answer and it’s a simple one. Simmons and Lear. Ed Simmons and Norman Lear are two of the freshest, brighest young men to sit behind a typewriter in years. They write the TV and radio shows for Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, and do such a good job of it that recently Dean and Jerry paid for a full page ad in Variety, the theatrical trade journal, to eulogize them.
The last Martin and Lewis show had some of the comedy highlights of the year, as concocted by Ed Simmons and Norman Lear, and the M. & L. radio show, heard Friday nights over the NBC net, are equally delightful. As if those two assignments weren't enough, the boys have just finished “Behind the Leather Curtain," a prizefight comedy written for Martin and Lewis with films and the Broadway stage in mind.
"You know,” Ed and Norm told me, “we’re the only adults who didn’t get into television from the radio field. We took the direct route and went right into TV after teaming up."
I found that Ed Simmons used to be in the photographic business while Norman Lear was a press agent. Neither was happy about his prospects, so they teamed up as comedy writers, and went to work for the Jack Haley show on TV in New York. Later they did special skits for Danny Thomas and Eddie Cantor. Their Haley material impressed Dean and Jerry so much that they asked to meet Eddie and Norm, and immediately signed them on a short term basis.
After a few weeks together, the boys were signed to a seven-year contract, just about the biggest and best contract of its kind in the TV and radio fields.
"Dean and Jerry are the greatest in the business to work for,” they told me. “They’re relaxed, they’re young, and they're eager. They're always willing and able to throw in additions and improvements on our scripts, and they don’t claim to know all the answers to show business like so many of the older comedians.”
“They may be nutty, but they’re nice,” Lear added, and Simmons nodded in assent.
So that, dear readers, is how Martin and Lewis think up all those crazy things, along with ideas they get themselves on the golf course. Simple isn’t it?

Lear’s relationship with Lewis soured, and then he and Simmons went their separate ways. Lear hooked up with Emmy-winning producer Bud Yorkin before the ‘50s were over. They began to develop a television legitimate acting team with the pairing of James Franciscus and Suzanne Pleshette. The fact Franciscus and Pleshette’s names don’t come to mind when you mention Lear shows you how successful it was.

It’s hard to believe it has been almost 53 years since All in the Family debuted on CBS. For those of you who weren’t around then and wonder about the show’s impact, here’s what the Associated Press’ TV-radio writer, Jerry Buck, wrote for publication in August 1971.

HOLLYWOOD (AP) — Last January a new situation comedy arrived on the television scene that violated all of the polite rules of the game.
The husband barked at his wife and family, sex was frankly discussed, there was a definite gap between the generations, the head of the house was openly bigoted and tossed around slurs and epitaphs seldom heard on the tube.
The result is that CBS' "All in the Family" became a hit and by the time the reruns began in the spring it was at the top of the ratings. Archie Bunker and such expressions as "stifle yourself" were on their way to joining the folklore.
The impact of "All in the Family" upon television is likely to be great. It is as certain to influence other situation comedies as "Laugh-In" changed the shape of the comedy-variety shows.
The man behind this series is Norman Lear, a 49-year-old writer and film producer whose last connection with weekly television was the Martha Raye show in the 1950s. He adapted "Family" from the original British show, "Till Death Us Do Part," and is now seeing his version going back to England for showing on BBC.
When the subject of a "television breakthrough" was brought up, Lear was a little offhand. He said, "I read that it's a breakthrough. I guess it's a breakthrough."
He settled onto a couch in his Century City offices and added: "People ask me what we're trying to say with this show. Our basic job is to entertain.
"But if people interpret it any other way, we're pleased. I'm not surprised that people derive other things from it, but we're not sitting down to do anything other than to entertain."
Despite such protestations—it is obvious that Lear is delighted by the show's impact and success—"All in the Family" is having its effect.
Hal Kanter, who is creating "The Jimmy Stewart Show" for NBC, said later, "We're trying to be more realistic. It's not an Ozzie and Harriet world. Situation comedy has been so anti-septic. I think 'All in the Family' has helped. The father's attitude toward the son-in-law; he says some very rude things to the boy and the son-in-law says some very rude things back. I imagine that happens a lot, even in homes where there is love."
A similar view was expressed by Dick Van Dyke, who is returning to television. “It's opened up some subject areas we couldn’t have examined before."
Bernard Slade, who wrote the pilot scripts for a number of comedy series, said, "There will never be any more 'Hello-darling-I'm-home' type shows."
Lear, a slightly built man with a droopy Keystone Cop moustache that makes him look like Ben Turpin, said he wasn't too worried about the reaction when "All in the Family" went on the air. "But I knew that both CBS and I would find out and that we would find out quickly. I wanted to find out that first night." The network wanted to air as the first show a milder episode but Lear refused. He had a show selected that plunged Archie right into the maelstrom. "My feeling is that you can only get wet once," he said. "You can't get any more wet than all wet. I wanted to fight getting a little wetter each week.
"That first show was designed to say as openly to Americans as we could that these are the attitudes we are going to run—what do you think? Since then we've never had any trouble with the censors. That was as far as I wanted to go."
In the British show, "Till Death Us Do Part," the father and the mother were at each other's throats. She called him a "Pig" and he called her a "bloody moo."
The genesis of that series was that two people were locked in marriage hating each other. "But it's obvious that Archie and Edith love each other. Edith is a wily, smart lady. She's learned very well to live with a difficult man and one way you learn to live with a difficult man is to have an inner life," Lear said.
"She dreams about things, then returns with a witty line. She speaks only the truth. She reminds Archie that his uncle got him his job. And when he wants her to confirm his sexual prowess she wants to speak the truth but she can't remember."
"All in the Family" has its own cliches and stereotypes, but it exposes life to the quick. Comedy is always at its best when it is rooted in reality, rather than being pegged on a video fancy or "shtick." It is one small step on the path other entertainment forms took years ago.
Lear said, "I think the reason the show is popular is that we all know Archie Bunkers. My father was Archie Bunker and he was middle class and not blue collar. It doesn't matter, rich or poor, black or white. I've had people tell me, 'That's my father!”

The question has been raised—could All in the Family be made today? The answer may be yes or no. Certainly political polarisation of the kind between Archie and son-in-law Mike Stivic is completely relevant today. But then there’s the problem of language. Television was timid in 1971. Many people are more timid today. This same year, Laura Z. Hobson wrote in the New York Times there wasn’t enough bigotry on the show. Lear responded in print. Both used words uttered by Archie Bunker in the earliest episodes—and a few others—that people scream about if they hear or see today, regardless of the context. Even I am uncomfortable re-printing them.

While columnist Buck’s assessment of Laugh-In was off—it really was only a fad and its format died in the ‘70s—All in the Family did result in a tone of realism and, at times, even drama, added to television comedy. If Norman Lear had done nothing else, that’s a good enough legacy in itself.