Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today, we're walking
into a place where everybody knows your name.
Or, well, to be a bit more accurate for the time
period we're looking at, a place where nobody
knew anybody's name, and frankly, nobody was
watching. Right, yeah, it's hard to believe now.
It really is. We are talking about Cheers, but
not... The cultural juggernaut that we all remember
dominating the 80s and 90s. We are going back
to the very beginning. Season one, the year was
1982. 1982. And here is the thing that really
blew my mind when I started digging into these
sources. Cheers. This show that is basically
on the Mount Rushmore of sitcoms, it was a complete
and total disaster when it launched. It really
was. It was a near -death experience for the
entire franchise, right out of the gate. It's
hard to reconcile the legacy of the show with
the cold, hard facts of that first season. Yeah,
the numbers are just brutal. If you look at the
numbers in the Wikipedia article for Cheers season
one, which is our source material today, it wasn't
just struggling. It was arguably a massive failure.
It finished 74th out of 99 regularly scheduled
shows that year. 74th. I just sit with that number
for a second for everyone listening. 74th out
of 99. That is dangerously close to the bottom
of the barrel. It is. In fact, it was dead last
among the shows that actually survived to see.
A second season. Wow. Yeah. By all conventional
logic and certainly by the ruthless standards
of 1980s network television, NBC should have
canceled it immediately. But they didn't. They
didn't. And that is really the mission of our
deep dive today. We are going to explore how
a show finishing that low managed to survive
its own birth. We're going to look at the bizarre
what could have been casting choices which. honestly
would have resulted in a completely different
show and the smoke and mirrors production secrets
behind that bar that looks so real but absolutely
wasn't. Oh, the production secrets are fascinating.
There's a lot of movie magic happening there.
Yeah, when we say smoke and mirrors, we aren't
just using a figure of speech. We've got notes
here from the source on fake beer, non -existent
bathrooms, and cheese puffs that define the laws
of physics. Right. But before we get into the
illusions, let's set the stage a bit. The source
material outlines that we are looking at a show
created by James Burroughs and the Charles Brothers,
Glenn and Les, and these guys were not... No,
not at all. They were veterans. They had just
come off working on Taxi, which was critical
royalty at the time. They had a serious pedigree
in the industry. Right. And the show aired on
NBC from September 1982 to March 1983. The setting
is totally iconic now, a neighborhood bar in
Boston. But the source material points out a
really interesting detail about that setting.
While the visual inspiration was a real place,
the Bull and Finch Pub on Beacon Hill in Boston.
The reality was pure Hollywood. Yeah, it wasn't
shot in Boston at all. Not a single frame. It
was filmed entirely on Stage 25 at the Paramount
lot in Los Angeles. So it's a Los Angeles soundstage
pretending to be a gritty Boston pub. Let's unpack
the blueprint of this show, because reading through
the source, it wasn't always going to be the
Cheers we know. The original concept wasn't even
a neighborhood bar. Yeah, this is where the development
process is so interesting. It was supposed to
be a hotel. A hotel. Exactly. James Burroughs,
who was the director and co -creator, he was
a huge fan of the British sitcom Fawlty Towers.
Oh, sure. John Cleese. Right. And Burroughs wanted
to create an American version of that specific
energy. A show set in a hotel lobby or maybe
a hotel bar where you have this constant revolving
door of eccentric characters coming in and out.
OK, I love Faulty Towers, but that is a very,
very different energy from Cheers. Faulty Towers
is it's manic. It's high stress. It's about people
passing through who you are never going to see
again. Exactly. Cheers is, well, it's cozy. It's
about people who never leave. And the producers
realized that pretty quickly during development,
they started narrowing the focus down. First,
they thought, OK, maybe we just focus on the
hotel bar, not the whole hotel. But then Glenn
Charles made what turned out to be a crucial
observation. He felt a neighborhood bar was just
more cozy. It allowed for that ensemble nature
to really develop where the characters could
bond over a long period of time. That makes total
sense. If you're in a hotel, your guests check
out after three days. You can't build long term
relationships. Exactly. In a neighborhood bar,
your guests might sit on the exact same stool
for 30 years. And that shift in setting changed
the entire requirement for the cast. The source
mentions they added an athletic element to the
backstory because the creators themselves were
sports fans. Oh. Which brings us to one of the
biggest what -ifs in the entire Wikipedia article.
Let's talk about Sam Malone. Oh, this is a great
pivot. Because the Sam Malone on the original
page was not the Sam Malone we saw on our screens.
This is fascinating, and it really highlights
how fragile the creative process is when you're
casting a show. In the original script, Sam Malone
was not a baseball player at all. No. He was
written as a former wide receiver for the New
England Patriots. A football player. Now, I want
to pause on this for you listening, because I'm
trying to picture Ted Danson, who is this tall,
elegant, almost dapper guy wearing football shoulder
pads and a helmet. I just... I can't quite see
it. Neither could the writers, eventually. They
cast Ted Danson and pretty much immediately realized
his physical build was all wrong for a professional
football player. Right. He's lanky. He is. He
doesn't look like a guy who takes massive hits
across the middle of the field from a linebacker.
He looks graceful. So they have a choice to make
there. Do you fire Danson, who you obviously
like for his acting, and find a guy who looks
like a meathead? Or do you change the sport to
fit the actor? They chose to change the sport.
They pivoted to baseball. And specifically, they
made him a relief pitcher for the Boston Red
Sox. And I think looking at how the show developed,
this is the key to the whole psychological makeup
of the series. This wasn't just a minor physical
pivot. It changed the DNA of the character completely.
How so? Well, think about the archetype of a
wide receiver in the 80s. You're thinking high
energy, maybe a bit of a diva, part of a chaotic
team environment. But a relief pitcher. Ah, yeah,
that is the deep dive nugget right there. A relief
pitcher is arguably the most isolated man in
sports. Exactly. You stand on that mound, the
game is entirely on the line, and it is completely
up to you. It's a solitary duel between you and
the batter. And when Sine talks about his drinking
days in the show or his failures, It hits harder
because baseball is a cerebral, lonely game.
Right. It creates that brooding quality. A wide
receiver has a quarterback to blame if the pass
is bad. A relief pitcher only has himself. That
loneliness is what made the romance with Diane
work so well. That's a great analysis of how
a forced production change actually deepens the
narrative. Speaking of casting deviations, let's
look at Diane's mother. There's a note in the
source here that says the producers wanted a
massive legendary comedy star for that role.
They did. They wanted Lucille Ball. I mean, can
you imagine Lucille Ball walking into the Cheers
bar? That would have been earth shattering for
a new sitcom. It would have been a massive coup
for NBC. But looking back at it, you have to
wonder if it would have been almost too big.
Lucille Ball kind of sucks all the oxygen out
of a room because she's such an absolute icon.
The audience wouldn't be looking at Diane. They'd
be looking at Lucy. Right. It stops being Cheers,
starts being a Lucille Ball guest appearance.
Right. But she turned down the role anyway. She
did. And the role eventually went to Glynis Johns,
who appears in the episode titled Someone Single,
Someone Blue. Which was probably for the best,
for the long -term health of the show. It kept
the ensemble balanced. But speaking of balance,
there is one character in the source material
that was actually cast, filmed, and then completely
erased from existence. I'm talking about Mrs.
Littlefield. Oh, this story is wild. It's crazy.
It's a deep cut that really changes how we view
the show's early development. Mrs. Littlefield
was intended to be a regular character. She was
written as an elderly, conservative, and often
overtly racist bar patron. Yeah. The idea the
writers had was to have this older voice injecting
these controversial, abrasive opinions into the
regular bar chat. So they cast someone for this.
They did. They cast an actress named Margaret
Whaler in the role. They filmed her in the pilot
episode. She had lines. She was part of the conversational
flow of the bar. So they have this character
who is essentially there to be the antagonist,
the person who says the things you absolutely
aren't supposed to say. Right. And then they
actually watched the footage back in the editing
room and they realized it just didn't work. The
vibe was completely wrong. It was too harsh.
Way too harsh. It soured that cozy atmosphere
they were trying so hard to build. So they made
a drastic decision in post -production. They
cut every single one of her lines from the final
edit of the pilot. But she's still physically
there on screen. She is. If you watch the pilot
carefully, you can see her sitting in the background.
She's just an extra now. A sweet, white -haired,
little old lady who sits there silently drinking.
That is incredible. But originally, she was supposed
to be this abrasive force that completely wrote
her out of all subsequent episodes. It's amazing
how editing can change the entire DNA of a show.
If they'd kept a racist grandmother figure as
a main cast member, the warmth of the bar might
have felt very different. It might have felt
more like All in the Family, but set in a pub.
It would have changed the chemistry. entirely
and the source doesn't explicitly state this
but if you look at the structure by removing
the elderly antagonist figure it kind of cleared
space for the elderly heart figure oh you mean
coach Exactly. It allowed Coach to become the
primary older voice in the room. And his voice
was one of love and support, not judgment and
racism. That is a brilliant point. We'll definitely
get to Coach in a minute. But we have to talk
about the two characters who filled the comedy
void and became the absolute engines of the show.
Believe it or not, according to the source, Norm
and Cliff were not in the original pilot script
at all. I know, it sounds impossible to picture.
The source material is very clear on this fact.
The original pilot script only had four principal
characters. Sam, Diane, Carla, and Coach. That's
it. No Norm. No Cliff. No. A cheers without someone
shouting Norm every time the door opens. Yeah.
That feels like a violation of natural law. Yeah.
How did they get added to the show? It really
came down to the magic of the audition process.
George Wendt came in and auditioned for a very
minor role. The character's name was just George
and he had exactly one line in the entire script.
One line. And knowing George Wendt, I have a
feeling I know what that line was. Beer. That's
it. Just the word beer. Just beer. But think
about the context of the delivery. He's a guy
entering a bar and his entire existence, his
whole motivation is summed up in that one word.
The producers noted he delivered it with such
specific, heavy weariness, like a guy who has
just had a long, terrible day and desperately
needs that relief that it resonated with them
immediately. So that one word line evolved into
the character of Norm Peterson. Exactly. He became
a regular almost immediately because of that
one reading. It's a lesson in acting, really.
There are no small parts. He took one syllable
and built an entire career on it. And what about
John Ratzenberger? He plays Cliff Clavin, the
know -it -all postal worker. Radzenberger also
came in to audition for a minor unnamed role.
But as he was leaving the audition room, he did
something incredibly bold. He turned back to
the producers and asked if they had a bar know
-it -all character. A bar know -it -all? Yeah.
You know, the kind of guy who thinks he has an
endless supply of trivia and facts, but is usually
completely wrong or just incredibly annoying
to everyone else. So he basically pitched his
own character to them right there. He did. He
improvised the entire concept of clip. That's
amazing. But here's a strange nuance that the
source material points out. Despite appearing
in almost every single episode of season one,
I think the article says he only missed two episodes,
Ratzenberger wasn't actually credited in the
opening sequence. Really? Even though he was
sitting at the bar the whole time? No. His name
only appeared in the closing credits for that
first year. It wasn't until later seasons that
he got that main cast opening billing. In season
one, he was technically just a recurring character
who just happened to never, ever leave the bar.
That is wild. It just goes to show how organic
the development of this show was. It wasn't a
rigid, pre -planned machine. It was adapting
to the actors they found. So we've got the cast
set. Let's look at the characters they inhabited
in this first season, starting with Sam Malone.
Sam is the anchor of the whole thing. He's complex.
As we discussed, he's an ex -baseball player,
but he's also an ex -alcoholic. He's a bartender
who actually bought the bar while he was still
drinking heavily. But in season one, the source
notes we learn he's been sober for three years.
Which is a pretty heavy backstory for a network
sitcom lead in 1982. Usually, the bartender's
the party guy. Sam is the guy watching the party,
making sure it doesn't go off the rails while
fighting his own demons. Exactly. He's grounded.
And then you have Diane Chambers, played by Shelley
Long. She is the catalyst for the whole plot.
The pilot, which is called Give Me a Ring Sometime,
sets her up perfectly as the ultimate fish out
of water. Right. She's an academic, very sophisticated,
supposedly studying at Boston University. She
comes into the bar with her fiance, Sumner Sloan.
Who is a real... Piece of work. He absolutely
is. He jilts her right there, leaves her in the
bar without money or a job. So Sam, taking pity
on her, hires her as a waitress. And that sets
up the central dynamic of the entire series,
the intellectual snob versus the blue collar
bar regulars. And a big part of that blue collar
pushback comes from Carla Tortelli, played by
Rhea Perlman. Yes, the cynical, wisecracking
waitress. She is a divorced mother of four. And
the source notes a very specific detail. She
is actually pregnant with her fifth child during
this first season. We're going to get into that
pregnancy in a bit because the production trickery
they use there is hilarious. But first, we have
to mention Coach. Ernie Pantuso, Coach, played
brilliantly by Nicholas Colasanto. He is the
heart of the bar. He's aging. He's befuddled.
He's got that great gravelly voice. He was Sam's
coach in baseball and is now his co -bartender.
But the source makes a really important point
about his role in the narrative. He isn't just
the dumb guy trope. No, he's not just there for
comic relief. Not at all. He actively listens
to people's problems. He solves them with advice
and analysis. He is a father figure to Sam and
really to everyone in the bar. He has this deep
emotional intelligence that completely contradicts
his intellectual confusion. And then, of course,
there's the dynamic that drove the whole show,
the Sam and Diane engine. It starts right away.
Immediately. Immediately in the pilot. The critical
reception for season one, according to the article,
was heavily fueled by what reviews called the
sexual tension between Ted Danson and Shelley
Long. It was the original will they won't they
that pretty much defined television for a decade.
And in season one, they actually answer that
question at least temporarily right in the finale.
Yes, the episode showdown part two. They argue,
they insult each other, they spew these terrible
remarks back and forth, and then they kiss. It's
the massive payoff the audience was waiting for
all season. Now, I want to go back to Carlo for
a second. You mentioned Rhea Perlman's character
was pregnant. But this wasn't just a character
arc. The actress was actually pregnant in real
life, right? Correct. Ray Parleman was pregnant
during the actual filming of the season. And
for the first half of the season, the producers
decided to try and hide it. Ah, the classic sitcom
trope. The hide the bump game. Exactly. They
used what I like to call the tray method. If
you go back and watch the early episodes, Carla
is constantly standing directly behind the bar
or she's holding a massive tray full of drinks
right in front of her stomach. Right. It gets
almost comical if you're looking for it. He becomes
the most stationary waitress in television history
for a few episodes. Just anchored to one spot
holding a tray. But eventually they couldn't
hide it anymore. No, they couldn't. So in episode
15, which is called Father Knows Last, they just
leaned into it. They wrote the pregnancy directly
into the script. They revealed that Carla is
pregnant with her ex -husband Nick's child. And
the production timing was... Incredibly tight
on this. Very tight. The source notes Rhea Perlman's
daughter was born on March 12th, 1983. That is
literally just a couple of weeks before the season
finale aired on March 31st. Talk about cutting
it close. Yeah. All right, let's move inside
the bar. Because while the emotions and the cast
chemistry were very real, almost everything else
you saw on screen was completely fake. I want
to ruin the magic for the listener for a second
here. Because... If you're watching season one
and you see Norm taking that long, refreshing
pull from a frosty mug, you're thinking, man,
I really want a beer. You do not want that beer.
You really don't. The notes on the production
here are actually kind of stomach -churning.
Think about it. They needed that head of foam
to stay stiff under the hot, bright studio lights
for take after take after take. Real beer just
goes flat and looks terrible on camera. So what
was the solution? Salt. And not just a tiny pinch.
They were salting this near beer, which was already
just colored water and weird, non -lingering
extracts to keep the foam active and bubbling.
So you have Ted Danson sliding a beautiful mug
down the bar, and George Wendt has to drink this
warm, hypersaline broth and go, ah, delicious.
It actually explains why Norm usually just nurses
his beers. Yeah. If you watch the actors closely,
they are doing everything they possibly can to
not actually swallow that stuff. And the scotch
wasn't any better, really. It was just tap water.
Well, honestly, water is probably better than
salted fake beer. What about the food? They were
always snacking on things. The cheese puffs.
Not real. The Wikipedia article simply says the
cheese puffs were not real, which strongly suggests
they were some kind of permanent prop or completely
inedible substance. I feel totally betrayed by
this. Next, you're going to tell me the bathroom
wasn't real either. It wasn't. The set design
included those iconic doors for the bathrooms,
but if an actor walked through them, there were
no toilets or sinks back there, just empty space
and cables on the soundstage. It's all an illusion.
But there is one thing that people often think
is fake, but was actually entirely real. The
laughter. Yes. This is a very common misconception
about 80s sitcoms. People hear the laughter on
Cheers and assume it's a laugh track or canned
laughter added in post -production. But the source
is explicit canned laughter was not used. The
show was filmed before a live studio audience.
So those reactions, the groans, the laughs, they
are genuine. They are. In fact, starting from
episode 13, they added an explicit announcement
at the very start of the broadcast. The announcer
says, cheers, this film before a live studio
audience. They wanted people at home to know
that the energy in the room was real. That massive
laugh you hear when Norm cracks a joke, that's
200 actual people laughing in real time. Speaking
of energy, let's talk about the music, the theme
song, where everybody knows your name. I mean.
It is arguably the most famous television theme
song of all time. But the road to getting it
was pretty rocky. It was a huge struggle. The
songwriters, Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo,
they had to pitch multiple times. The producers
flat out rejected their first two attempts. What
were the rejected songs? I'm so curious. One
was called People Like Us. The other was called
My Kind of People. My Kind of People. I mean,
that sounds nice enough for a bar. Well... Here
is the twist on that one. My Kind of People was
originally written by them as a satire. It was
a song mocking decadent old money wasps. Wait,
what? Yeah. But the songwriters really wanted
the job, so they rewrote the lyrics to be about
likable losers to try and please the producers.
They took a song making fun of rich people, turned
it into a song about lovable barflies, and the
producers still said no. Exactly. It still failed.
The producers didn't feel it captured the tone.
It wasn't until NBC actually commissioned the
first full 13 episodes that the duo went back
to the drawing board and wrote the song we know
today, where everybody knows your name. And that
one finally clicked. Thank goodness it did. I
cannot imagine the show starting with a repurposed
satire of wasps. Now, we touched on this in the
intro, but we really need to dive deep into the
ratings paradox. Because we have this amazing
cast, this great writing, this live audience
energy, a perfect theme song, and nobody was
watching it. The numbers are incredibly stark.
As we said, 74th place out of 99. It was airing
on Thursday nights at 9 p .m. And the television
competition was stiff. It was up against Simon
& Simon on CBS, which was a hit, and Too Close
for Comfort on ABC. And we have to remember for
context, NBC's famous must -see TV Thursday lineup,
that wasn't a powerhouse yet. It didn't exist
in the way we remember it from the 90s. No, it
was in its absolute infancy. Cheers was sandwiched
in a block. It followed Fame, the musical series,
and it preceded Taxi and Hill Street Blues. It
was a good, critically respected block of quality
television, but it wasn't grabbing the massive
mainstream audiences yet. NBC did try to help
it. Didn't they? They didn't just leave it to
die. They did try. They moved it to 930 p .m.
at one point to see if that time slot helped.
And they even tried a cost saving experiment
where they shot one episode on videotape instead
of traditional film. Oh, wow. Videotape. So it
had that cheap soap opera look. Right. They wanted
to lower the production costs significantly because
the ratings were so bad they were losing money.
But the producers absolutely hated the look of
the videotape. It ruined the cinematic lighting
of the bar. So they demanded to go back to film
immediately and NBC relented. So why wasn't it
canceled? Shows with way better ratings get axed
all the time. This is the million dollar question
for television historians. It survived because
of two very specific things, critical acclaim
and executive protection. The TV critics absolutely
loved it. They wrote glowing reviews calling
it intelligent, sophisticated and the best comedy
on TV. And crucially, the executives at NBC actually
listened to the critics. There is a quote here
in the notes from Grant Tinker, the NBC chairman
at the time, that is just incredible. It's a
legendary quote in the industry. He said, that
is just so well done that we should be sent to
jail for canceling it. Sent to jail for canceling
it. You just do not hear modern network executives
talking like that anymore. Today, they usually
just talk about target demographics and ad revenue
and algorithms. But Tinker saw something else
entirely. He saw the sheer quality of the writing
and the acting. And he believed fundamentally
that if he just gave it time, the audience would
eventually find it. And his faith was rewarded.
In the summer of 1983, after the dismal first
season ended, they aired reruns. And something
just clicked with the public. Right. The ratings
for those summer reruns shot up into the top
20. So people finally found it when the pressure
was off. It's like word of mouth finally caught
up to the broadcast. Exactly. It proved the audience
was indeed there. They just needed time to discover
the bar on their own terms. And the television
industry noticed too, didn't they? The award
sweep for season one was massive, despite the
ratings. Massive. It received 13 Emmy nominations
in its very first year, and it won five of them.
It won Outstanding Comedy Series, Outstanding
Writing for the Pilot Episode, Outstanding Directing
for the Finale, and Shelley Long won Lead Actress.
It's so ironic, isn't it? The show that literally
nobody in America watched won Best Series. It
is the ultimate vindication for Grant Tinker
and the creators. They knew they had gold. Okay,
let's get into the episodes themselves. We've
mentioned the pilot and the finale, but there
are some absolute gems in the middle of season
one that really show why this series was so critically
acclaimed. I want to start with the Tortelli
tort. That's episode three. This is a classic
Carla episode. It establishes her extreme volatility
right away. She physically attacks a customer.
But not just any customer. a Red Sox fan who
insulted Sam. Right. She's defending her boss,
showing her intense loyalty, but she goes way
too far. She gets sued by the fan, which is the
tort in the title, and she is forced to go to
anger management classes. It's a fantastic setup
for Rhea Perlman to show her comedic range. She's
loyal to a fault, but completely unhinged. And
there is a really fun detail for sports fans
mentioned in the source for this one. Yes, on
the television playing in the background of the
bar, you can hear a cameo by John Miller, who
was the... real Red Sox radio announcer at the
time. It just adds that subtle layer of authenticity
to the Boston setting. Then there is the spy
who came in for a cold one. Episode 12. This
one really highlights the gullibility of the
bar regulars and especially Diane. It features
a stranger who comes in and claims to be a secret
spy. Then later he claims to be a published poet.
Then a millionaire. The bar flies are totally
impressed, but Diane thinks she sees right through
them until she doesn't. She believes the poetry
part, right? because she considers herself the
intellectual superior of everyone in the room.
She thinks she recognizes a fellow genius. She
does, and that is her major downfall in the episode.
She buys completely into his pretension. Until
Coach's sweet, befuddled coach inadvertently
exposes the guy. Coach recites a poem that the
spy is claiming to have just written. It turns
out it was total plagiarism. It's a great character
moment for Coach, showing that he knows way more
than he lets on, or at least he remembers things
in his own unique way. It flips the expected
status script entirely. Diane is the fool, and
Coach is the wise one. Now, I want to spend a
moment on episode 16, The Boys in the Bar. Because
reading the summary of this episode in The Source,
I was actually shocked. This aired in January
1983, and the central theme is homophobia and
acceptance. It was a very bold, risky topic for
a mainstream sitcom in 1983. The plot revolves
around a former baseball teammate of Sam's coming
out as gay in a tell -all book. Sam supports
him immediately. He says, he's my friend. I support
him. But the regulars at the bar, they don't
react so well. No, they panic. They are terrified
that Cheers is going to become known as a gay
bar. It reflects the very real anxieties and
prejudices of the culture at that time. But the
resolution is classic, sophisticated cheers writing.
Diane tells the panicked regulars that there
are gay men in the bar right now. And so they
try to spot them. They do. They try to kick out
these three guys who they assume are gay based
entirely on silly stereotypes. But it turns out
those guys aren't gay at all. And the twist at
the end. The twist is that after the regulars
make complete fools of themselves, two other
men who had been sitting there quietly having
a drink the whole time, looking perfectly average,
get up to leave. And as they leave, they kiss
Norm on the cheek. That is just perfect. It subverts
the whole prejudice. It's a very clever way to
handle a heavy topic. It exposes the regular's
homophobia as ridiculous without being preachy
or heavy -handed. It was sophisticated writing
that managed to be funny while holding up a mirror
to the character's deepest insecurities. Absolutely.
Now, before we wrap up, we have to talk about
the lost episodes. Or the oddities, I guess.
Because there are things in this source material
that I had no idea even existed. What is Uncle
Sam alone? This is a bizarre piece of television
history. Uncle Sam Malone is technically a special.
It's a 13 minute segment produced entirely by
the US Department of the Treasury. The Treasury
Department produced a sitcom episode. They did.
It was designed to sell U .S. savings bonds.
The plot is that Cliff convinces the gang to
pool their money and buy savings bonds to pay
for a group vacation to Tahiti. That sounds like
the most boring plot in television history. Let's
sit around and discuss bond interest rates. Well,
it was meant to be educational, but what makes
it so interesting is that it was filmed in character
on the actual set with the main cast, but it's
not available on home video or streaming. It's
this rare. lost artifact of the time. And then
there was also a Super Bowl sketch. Right. The
Super Bowl 17 pregame segment. It's just a three
minute sketch. The gang is in the bar meeting
real life sportscaster Pete Axelm. It's another
one of those promotional things that aired exactly
once and kind of disappeared into the ether.
But it shows that NBC was trying everything they
could using the massive audience of the Super
Bowl to pump up the ratings for cheers even back
then. One important thing to note on that Super
Bowl sketch coach isn't in it. That's right.
Nicholas Colasanto does not appear in that segment
at all. So we've gone from the absolute bottom
of the ratings barrel to the top of the critics
list. We've seen salted fake beer, pregnant waitresses
hiding behind serving trays, and a British hotel
concept that morphed into a cozy Boston home.
It's a remarkable journey for one season of television.
So bringing it all together, what does this all
mean for you listening? When we look back at
Season 1 through these sources, what is the big
takeaway? I think the main takeaway is the importance
of patience and having faith in quality. In modern
TV, a show that finished 74th would be canceled
by episode four. There's no doubt. But NBC stuck
by it. They nurtured it through terrible numbers.
And because they did, they got one of the greatest,
most profitable sitcoms of all time. It's a massive
lesson in not judging the worth of a show just
by its initial data. It really is. And it's a
reminder that even the biggest cultural icons
have to start somewhere. Sometimes that start
is incredibly rocky. Very rocky. Before we go,
I want to leave you with a final thought to chew
on. We talked a lot about the Sam and Diane dynamic
today and how that sexual tension fueled the
show's early success. But reading through this
source material, I keep coming back to Coach.
Yeah, Coach really is the glue of the ensemble.
He is. And I want you to imagine, just for a
second, what if they hadn't cut Mrs. Littlefield?
What if you had that abrasive, conservative,
racist voice sitting at the bar in every episode?
Would Coach have been able to be that gentle
father figure? Would the bar have felt as safe
and welcoming? It's a huge question to ponder.
Coach offered unconditional love and simple wisdom
to these broken people. Mrs. Littlefield offered
pure judgment. If she stays in the script, the
bar becomes a place of constant conflict, not
comfort. Coach might have been totally overshadowed
by her negativity. Exactly. The removal of Mrs.
Littlefield in that editing room might have been
the single most important decision they ever
made for the tone of the series. It cleared the
space for Coach to become the absolute heart
of the show. I think you're absolutely right
on that. So do yourself a favor. Go back and
watch Cheers Season 1. But watch it differently
this time. Look for the salt bubbling in the
fake beer. Look for the tray deliberately hiding
Rhea Poorman's real -life pregnancy. And look
closely for the ghost of Mrs. Littlefield sitting
silently in the background of the pilot. And
listen for the harsh lines that aren't there
anymore. Thanks for joining us on this deep dive.
We'll see you next time.