(Above: The book I had my Media History students read during the 2022-23 year. They loved it – and the show as well, since I brought video.)

Tom Smothers, one of the most important figures in American television comedy, passed away today after a brief illness. He was 86.

I don’t think I am overstating my claim in the introductory paragraph. So much of what we take for granted with regard to what you can and cannot say on television with respect to satire and parody is due to the fight that the Smothers Brothers waged against CBS during their brief but spectacular tenure as stars of The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour from 1967 – 1969. More on that in a minute, though, because the story predates that.

Tom, along with brother Dick – “the one that Mom liked best” – were well-established as a folk music/comedy duo long before TSBCH hit the airwaves. They cut their teeth in comedy clubs and sold millions of albums with their trademark style of comedy: classic folk songs with unpredictable results. This early clip from The Judy Garland Show demonstrates that very well. In all they released nine albums of new material, one tied to the television show, and some other greatest-hits-type compilations. (I’d recommend Sibling Revelry on Rhino as an introduction for those who have missed their work.)

Their on-screen presence begged for television. A first attempt, a sitcom, failed dramatically – which is why it was a little surprising when CBS put the Brothers on as a mid-year replacement in 1967. Then again, maybe not: the show was designed to go up against Bonanza on NBC, which was thought to be unbeatable in that time slot. Eventually, TSBCH won the time slot – but not without plenty of drama along the way.

I spent a year in my media history class at Grand Valley having the students read David Bianculli’s Dangerously Funny, which offers a history of the act and the show. I peppered in plenty of clips of the show: rather than having students read transcipted dialogue, it seemed to make more sense to actually see and hear it delivered. I had no idea what Gen Z would think of this, and stood at the ready to explain who the various political figures were. It turned out that they loved it. (One student said that the day we watched the entire Pat Paulsen for President episode was “the funniest thing that he had ever seen.”) What I think the students took away was a sense of innovation. This was the show that pioneered music video in a very real sense. (If you would like to have the argument, consider Mason Williams’ performance of “Classical Gas” from 1968 – complete with Tom himself taking a bow at the end.) The Paulsen film is probably the first “mockumentary,” and since a young Rob Reiner worked on the show it no doubt influenced This is Spinal Tap. And, of course, political satire was strictly verboten until this point. (It’s documented that Lyndon Johnson would call William Paley, the president of CBS, and complain “your boys are fucking me on television again.”) You don’t have Saturday Night Live and its various cable offspring without TSBCH.

The students were fascinated by the censorship battles. We watched the deleted performance of Harry Belafonte’s “Don’t Stop the Carnival.” I’ve used that clip for years as it is especially interesting up here: when the show aired on Canadian television, the clip was left in. Viewers in Windsor who called their friends in Detroit to ask “did you see that?” were met with confusion. I used the show – and the book – to explain what it truly means to be “cancelled,” since that word is thrown around a lot today. Students reflected on this and respected Tom Smothers’ role in fighting for the right to be heard. (I could say a lot more about this as it relates to the show, but Bianculli’s book does a pretty good job of doing that.) We still talk about Pete Seeger “breaking the blacklist” almost sixty years later because of Tom’s insistence that he sing on television – even if the network didn’t like “Waist Deep in the Big Muddy.” (Of course, they later changed their mind as the Vietnam War raged on.)

There’s also the “who’s who” – including The Who – who played on the show. The musical performances were cutting edge. Tom wrote the liner notes for the first album by The First Edition, a band he gave a shot to on the show. (You no doubt recognize the lead singer from his later work.) The Jefferson Airplane looked trippy. The Association got clever. But of all the acts on the stage of the Comedy Hour, The Who may be the most memorable. This was the performance that permanently damaged Pete Townshend’s hearing, made Bette Davis faint, and put the band on the map forever.

My exposure to Tom Smothers’ work came at an early age. (I think we have established over the years here that I was not a normal kid.) Despite my mother’s appreciation of folk music, there was only one Smothers Brothers in her collection (and therefore now in mine). Hidden amongst all of the Peter, Paul and Mary and the Joan Baez that played interminably in our home was a copy of 1963’s Think Ethnic. After hearing my parents talk about the show – and watching a comeback special that aired in I think 1975, making me six – the LP made its way into my room. I’d drop the needle on my tiny Panasonic and listen and try to figure out if I got the jokes. Most of the time I did not, but sometimes I did. I played “Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town” over and over again. (At 25 seconds you can hear it a lot in a short time.) “My Old Man” stuck with me. That’s the song where they trade off barbs about wanting to have the job their father had – ending with “cotton picking finger licking chicken plucker” sung for speed. Even to a six year old, that’s funny stuff, even if you don’t know the possibly dangerous word yet. (The version that I showed in class, from the TV show, included “My old man’s a Negro,” which sent the class into a tailspin, as you might imagine.) That album was my entry to the wonderful world of their comedy. I went deeper into their catalog, and by college radio I was working their pieces into my radio shows (and a promo once, but I am unsure if it survives). Phrases from their bits pop up in my vernacular every so often, whether it’s urging you to watch out for pumas (they’re in the crevasses!) or worrying about the precious goods from the Judy Garland show piece above. As a student of comedy I marveled at how well Tom “played dumb” and yet was the genius of the duo. (A clinic in that is in this clip of “Dance Boatman Dance” from LP – the version that couldn’t be done on television.)

Tom Smothers’ passing will, no doubt, lead a generation to pull their old LPs out for a laugh. I hope that if that is you, and there are young people in your orbit who are unfamiliar with the work, that you will share it. The kids will love it.

You can hear “My Old Man” as recorded in 1963 by clicking here.