War Is Bad

I was scrolling through a social media site, and said out loud, "Oh, I'm not even gonna read that one."

"What?" my son asked.

"An article titled, '20 TV Character Deaths You Still Haven't Gotten Over.'"

My son knows me. "Henry?" he said.

"YES. Henry."

Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was the first commanding officer on TV's "M*A*S*H." I loved Henry, in spite of himself. He wasn't really the kind of person I generally admired. He was bumbling, he was easily bulldozed over by those with stronger personalities, he cheated on his wife. But putting all that aside, he was well intentioned (one of my "musts" for people), he was a good surgeon, he was a loyal friend. The company clerk may have been the organizational brains of the outfit, but you couldn't really hold that against Henry; he may have been its heart. He cared about those under his command, and he cared about the wounded who came through their hospital. He could behave like a parent frequently, and like a commander when he had to, but he was always a good doctor.

My age was in single digits when "M*A*S*H" premiered, and I was only 10 when Henry got his orders to head home.

Home; they all wanted to go home. He'd miss the men, we'd miss him, but Henry was excited to go.

Maybe the story lines were kind of heavy for a kid in elementary school. My parents kept me - all of their kids - from things they were afraid would traumatize us or be over our heads, but "M*A*S*H" didn't fall into that category. We only had one TV, so whatever was on, we watched together, and we discussed it. It was one of my favorite shows. I understood the horror of war, the great lengths they went to in order to keep the horror at bay, the humor.

I understood that Henry was going home because the actor, McLean Stevenson, hadn't renewed his contract; that made me a bit sad, but it was OK. I'd watched the cast be shuffled on shows before. We'd have all summer to get used to the idea before the show returned.

I watched Henry say his goodbyes, watched him call his wife back home. He had a child he'd never met, born while he served in Korea. "Let's not tell anyone," he said to his wife. "Let's just show up for dinner at the club." He was so excited to think about the surprise his friends would experience.

He took off his uniform - he took off his ubiquitous fishing hat - and he put on a suit. He saluted Radar, his clerk, and he climbed on to the helicopter.

That's where the script they'd all been given ended. During filming, the producers told the cast, "We have one more scene. Gary (Burghoff, who played Radar) is the only one with any lines. Just react to Gary." They set up a scene in the ER - then they handed Burghoff the script.

We, the viewers, found out through interviews that Burghoff gave afterward that he looked at the lines and felt punched in the stomach. "You sons of b*****s," he says that he told them. "You're going to win an Emmy for this."

The reaction you see when Radar walks into the ER - that's the actor's reaction to the lines he was given only seconds earlier. He walks through the door, and Wayne Rogers, taking to the direction to "react to Gary," says, "Radar, put a mask on!"

Burghoff reads the lines. I know them by heart. "Lt. Col. Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors."

OH. Oh. Oh.

It was so painful. I cried then. I cry now. I cry every time I see the episode, every time I talk about that moment.

The reactions you see from the other actors - those are their actual reactions. Loretta Swit weeps.

I was not prepared for the reaction of some fans, though. The producers got nasty letters - "How could you? There was no reason for that!" "How can you treat your fans this way? We've been so loyal, and you hurt us!" "This is entertainment! We watch this show to laugh, not to cry!"

Even as a 10 year old, I understood what they were doing. This is why war is bad. This is why it is a thing to be avoided. Because people you love, people with everything to live for, people with wives and children and babies they'd never met, with friends and relatives and jobs waiting for them at home, die. Many of them are still too young to have wives and children, and they die anyway. War is indiscriminate; it takes everyone. And yes, TV is entertainment, and the show is a comedy, but it would be remiss if it didn't show that war takes lives, and not just the lives of soldiers, and not just people you don't know.

So, yeah, they ripped my heart out. Yeah, it still hurts. That's how I know they did their job. Because if there was a single sentence, with words of one syllable, that summed up "M*A*S*H," it would be, "War is bad." Because too many people die.

So, thanks, 20th Century Fox - even though it hurts.

And oh, yes - that episode won an Emmy.

I Miss Mayberry

In honor of Valentine's Day, here's my musings on fictional TV characters from my growing up years who formed my idea of what men should be like.

SHERIFF ANDY TAYLOR (The Andy Griffith Show)

Andy is just about the perfect man. He's usually the smartest person in the room, but you never, ever get the sense that he's laughing at others behind their backs. He never looks down at, or talks down to, them. He never points out how bright he is (because, frankly, the more often someone says it, the less often it's true.) He's very, very good at what he does, but quick to listen to others and ask for help without being patronizing.

He's an amazing dad, not too indulgent, too strict, too distant or too smothering. He depends on Aunt Bee without being helpless. He allows Barney the autonomy he needs, and encourages others to accept him as an authority figure, but it's always clear that Andy is the boss. He lets Barney (and for that matter, Opie) experience the consequences of his mistakes, but steps in before irreparable damage is done.

After the work day is over, he sits on his porch playing his guitar and singing. He says hello to everyone as they pass by, and he means it.

I rarely fantasized about being married to rock stars, but I frequently thought about how perfect it would be to be married to Andy Taylor.

DOCTOR LEONARD "BONES" MCCOY (Star Trek)

Kirk was admirable, and Spock was amazing. I watched both to glean insight into the kind of character traits I wanted to have (keep the loyalty, insight and powers of observation; skip the promiscuity), but the one that I wanted to get the girl, especially if the girl was me, was McCoy.

He wasn't, and never aspired to be, in a command position, but he never felt overlooked, second best or relegated to lower status. He was good at his job and convinced of its value, but also valued the work of others. He was a rule follower, but when the rules conflicted with his moral code he was not conflicted himself; that choice was easy.

He enjoyed the wonder and majesty of the universe, but never quite trusted the machines that took him there. I could completely relate to his distrust of the transporters.

If you didn't know him, some of his conversation would lead you to believe that he was a bigot, but he wasn't. If his best friend had had an artificial leg, he would have called him "Gimpy" or "Stumpy," and made comments about him being less than a complete man. It was his way of blowing off steam; politically incorrect, but not malicious.

COLONEL SHERMAN T. POTTER (M*A*S*H)

I love Harry Morgan, but I was so completely prepared to truly dislike Col. Potter. Losing Henry Blake was so painful. Over 30 years later, I still cry every time I watch his final episode and hear Radar say, "There were no survivors." It would seem that anyone would be better than Frank, but I was still not prepared to give the new guy a fair shake. "He's regular Army!" I complained to my mother. "He'll ruin everything!"

Instead, I quickly adored Potter. By the end of his very first episode I was thinking, "This guy is OK." Soon, he was a cherished friend. I missed him, as I missed them all, when the series ended.

Sensible, unflappable, plain spoken, a lover of horses and a talented surgeon, Potter was a stabilizing center of the storm. He knew when to cut through the b.s. and when to tolerate or even encourage it. He loved his country and had chosen to be career Army, but he hated war and its destruction. He loved his wife and kids, and couldn't wait until he was home barbequeing in his back yard.

So many times, couples focus on falling in love, not being in love. If you're lucky, you end up old and gray haired together. Colonel Potter gave me a glimpse of a man, and a life, at that age that looked very appealing. And who wouldn't love a man who said, "Horse hockey!"

BJ HUNNICUTT (M*A*S*H)

BJ made the best of circumstances he never asked for. His rebellion was usually quiet and never for its own sake, but spoke volumes. His pink shirt said more, and said it more eloquently, than words would have. He knew that silliness did not necessarily equate to frivolousness. He didn't worry too much about how others perceived his work or how he stood in the hierarchy - he did his best work because it was the right thing to do, not because someone might be looking or because he might be promoted.

His love for his family was as much a part of him as his right arm. He didn't have to constantly tell you it was there; he didn't have to work at it. It just was.

He wasn't perfect. He drank too much, and once cheated on his wife. He didn't do either of those things because he was self indulgent or felt entitled; he did them because he was in almost unbearable pain.

He was funny - not spotlight grabbing, "look at me" funny, but "share this with me, let's all enjoy ourselves" funny.

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All of us grow up looking at people we know, the TV we watch, the movies we see and the books we read, and we form opinions about life and people. My life is better because these fictional men touched it.